#I don’t think it will cause figurative whiplash if I answer this after the rather serious post I made recently. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

somewhatgreatexpectations · 4 years ago

Text

Walk Away (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello!

Double Lizzie! All I will say is be prepared for chaos. Enjoy! :)

Summary: How will Y/n handle developing feelings for Wanda and an intricate history with Leigh? Will it all boil over on their birthday?

It was a mistake. It had to be. That’s the only way you could rationalize the invitation glaring obnoxiously back at you from the screen of your laptop. You pinched the bridge of your nose to ease the tension that had built from being in the situation.

As much as you wished you didn’t, you couldn’t help but feel the familiar sensation of irritation that began to crawl under your skin. It seemed that no matter how many times you played this game, you were always the one at the disadvantage.

Again, and again, and again.

The routine of her pushing you away and pulling you close was familiar, but you expected things to be different this time around. That was your own fault. You were foolish to think that anything would change.

The cycle would never end because you would never have the strength to break it.

Figuring there was nothing to lose, you pulled out your phone and dialed the number you had memorized years ago. It wasn’t like you expect her to answer anyway. She hadn’t since your night together and you were quite comfortable with her voicemail at this point.

“Hello?” The surprise of Leigh actually answering caused you to choke slightly. In an attempt to breathe through the fit, you began coughing. “If you’re choking you should’ve called 911, not me.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

You adored the woman, but nothing would’ve given you more satisfaction than to be able to flip her off in that moment.

With a final cough you rushed out a reply. There was no point in beating around the bush with formalities. She might hang up before you got to the point. “Was it a mistake?” The words clumsily tumbled from your lips without allowing your mind time to process how they may sound.

“Are you seriously-”

“The invitation to your party.” You clarified over the sound of Leigh’s response.

There was a brief pause. “Oh. That.” You furrowed your brows. “No, it wasn’t. You should come. I mean, if you want to come. I know it’s last minute.”

If Leigh wasn’t infamous for her brutal honesty you would have thought that was the opposite of what she wanted. “I’ll be there. I think it’s only fair since I missed your last one.”

Her last birthday must have been much harder than this one and the guilt that you left her alone for it still weighed heavily on your conscious.

An awkward silence hung tensely in the air. “Right. Well... See you then. Bye.”

“By-” A small frown tugged at the corners of your lips when the dial tone interrupted your parting. “Of course.” Leigh was always an enigma but lately you had been getting whiplash from the uncertainty of it all.

You couldn’t help but feel like you always seemed to lose a piece of yourself to her whenever you spoke.

There was one person who's conversations didn't come wrapped in barbed wire. One person who stole all your words away in the best way possible. Just the thought of her eased the tension that pressed heavily against your chest.

It was as if she knew you were thinking of her because your phone began ringing almost immediately after thoughts of her began to float through your mind. You couldn’t help but smile that appeared when you saw her name flash across your screen.

Your spirits had been lifted before you even heard her voice. “Hey, I was just thinking about you.”

A quiet hum drifted over the line and you could see her soft smile so vividly in your mind that it was almost as if she was there with you. “Is that so?” You hummed in response. ��And what exactly was it that you were thinking about?”

Absentmindedly you began fiddling with a pen that was on your desk. “Oh, just that I kind of miss you, Maximoff.”

The sound of her laughter made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Only kind of? Guess I should ask them to extend my time over here until you fully miss me.”

You gasped in mock indignation. “Don’t you dare.”

“I kind of miss you too, Y/n.” She said softly, and the butterflies multiplied. “I was actually calling for a different reason though.”

Again, you gasped in mock indignation. “So, you mean to tell me you didn’t call just because you couldn’t bear to go another minute without hearing my voice?”

The laughter that floated down the line was even more boisterous than before which caused your own smile to grow. “That and I have a question.”

“I might have an answer.” You replied easily.

You could hear the sounds from where she was become louder, but she didn’t seem fazed by it. “Are you going to Leigh’s party tomorrow?”

The pen slipped from your grip. “Technically your party as well. Tomorrow is your birthday too.”

“Parties aren’t really my thing. It’s Leigh’s party.” There was a shyness to her words that you found so endearing. “You didn’t answer my question.”

You picked the pen up again. “I’ll be there. I wouldn't miss it. I wasn't around for her birthday last year and it was after she lost-” you stopped yourself, not sure of how much Wanda knew about Leigh’s life yet.

“Her husband.” Wanda finished quietly. You nodded even though you knew she couldn’t see it. “Why weren't you there last year?”

On reflex your fingers formed a fist around the pen. “It’s a long story. A story for when you’re not who knows where.”

You dreaded the day you’d have to explain the complicated web of history that you shared with Leigh. The thought alone filled your body with anxiety.

It was as though Wanda could sense your discomfort, as she changed the subject. “I’m pretty sure I told you where I was.”

“I’m positive you didn’t. Keeping up the mystery.” You teased lightly. “Will you be back in town in time for the party?” The obvious hope that slipped into your words made you bite back a groan. You hoped she didn’t think you were desperate as you sounded.

There was a bit more commotion coming from Wanda’s end. “I actually should be touching down right before Leigh’s party begins. I wasn’t sure if I should go or not.”

“You have to go. Please. Then I can give you your present on your actual birthday.”

For a moment there was silence. “You got me a present?” She asked quietly.

Again, you nodded even though she couldn’t see. “Of course I did. You’re- I- We’re friends.” You stuttered out nervously even though friends was the last thing you wanted to be with Wanda.

“Oh.” She mumbled and suddenly the commotion became even louder. “Hey, Y/n, I have to go, but I’ll be there. I can’t wait to see you.”

A small blush spread across your cheeks. “I can’t wait to see you either, Wanda. Safe travels.”

Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be as bad as you thought it was going to be.

_______________

From the sound of it, the party was in full swing and you couldn’t help but feel nerves build in your chest as you knocked hesitantly on the door. “Y/n!” Jules greeted happily as she ushered you into the home.

“Hi, Jules.” You mumbled, still feeling the residual embarrassment from the last time you saw her.

She nudged you playfully. “If you plan on sneaking out tonight after your extracurriculars with my sister, just make sure you plan ahead.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “That’s no-” But she had walked away before you could finish your sentence. Looks like that ran in the Shaw family.

With a sigh, you ambled out into the backyard where it seemed everyone was gathered. You didn’t see a point in lingering inside when the memory of the last time you’d been there was still so fresh in your mind.

It only took a moment, but you finally found Leigh by one of the tables speaking animatedly to one of her friends. Your heart dropped at the sight of her in that black dress. You almost wanted to turn around and leave rather than run the risk of saying something you know you shouldn’t.

When she looked like that you knew you probably would.

The opportunity disappeared when she looked up and met your eyes across the yard. You took a steadying breath and made your way over to her, listening to her excuse herself from the other person. “Hey. You look lovely.” You said with a small smile, hoping that even if it was just for a night, everything would be okay.

The storm in her eyes seemed more subdued. Maybe you’d be able to stay afloat. “Thank you, Y/n. You look… nice as well.” The small smile and compliment she returned nearly sent you into shock.

“Happy birthday.” You offered her the wrapped package timidly. You ignored the small tingles that arose on your skin from where her fingers brushed.

The intricate design on the front of the gift appeared as Leigh slowly tore away the wrapping paper. “Is this what I think it is?” She asked quietly as she turned the book over in her hands.

You nervously rubbed your forehead. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. I just figured since In Time of Daffodils is your favorite poem, it’d be nice to have a first edition. Which, thinking back now, was kind of ridiculous since I’m sure you have a copy already and-”

Your rambling was brought to an abrupt halt when you felt Leigh’s arms wrap around your waist as she pulled you into a gentle embrace.

Despite everything in your mind telling you to leave, you couldn’t help but melt into her as your hands hovered tentatively over her waist. “Y/n. I love it. This might be one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone’s ever given me. I can't believe you remembered my favorite poem.”

The smile on your face was inevitable when she spoke to you like that. "Of course I remember." You mumbled softly. When she stayed in your arms, you allowed your hands rested lightly over the middle of her back.

You could feel your heartbeat racing in your chest when you felt her arms tighten around you.

“Hey, lovebirds. Break it up. You’re not in Leigh’s room yet.” Jules joked in passing as she made her way over to the snack table.

As if coming to her senses, Leigh abruptly stepped back and tossed the book on the table like it had burned her. The storm in her eyes was back in full force. You mentally cursed Jules. “I’m going to go mingle. Enjoy the party, Y/n.” Before you could say anything, she had rushed off.

All you could do was breathe out a heavy sigh as you rubbed a hand down your face. You looked around the party and recognized a few acquaintances, but no one you could actually talk to. They were all Leigh’s friends. Jules was your only other friend there, but you didn’t think you could handle the teasing.

With nothing else to do, you picked up the book Leigh had carelessly thrown aside and began reading. You just needed to pass the time until Wanda arrived.

You were lost in one of the poems in the book when you heard the volume of the white noise around you shift, almost like everyone began talking all at once. You decided to ignore it.

“Hi.” You heard a quiet voice say by your side.

That voice. The one that had begun to infiltrate your dreams. Your head shot up as your eyes met the sparkling emeralds before you. “Wanda.” You breathed out happily as you gently placed the book to the side.

She’s a dream that keeps coming back and I don’t think I ever want to wake up. You thought to yourself dazedly.

The corners of Wanda’s lips turned up in a genuine smile. A subtle hitch of her breath caught your attention. “Y/n.” Before you could even process what you were doing, you leaped in her arms. The sound of her surprised laughter filled the air around you as her arms pulled you closer.

“Happy birthday. I missed you.” You said into her shoulder, allowing yourself to relish in her touch.

In response Wanda buried her face in the crook of your neck, her lips lightly brushing your skin as she spoke. “I missed you too.” The warmth of her breath fanning across your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

I think this is happiness. Was the only thought in your mind as you remained wrapped in her embrace. You could feel Wanda shiver as her arms tightened around you.

Eventually Wanda pulled away and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness. “You look beautiful.” You said sincerely, allowing your thoughts to escape the confines of your mind for once.

Wanda ducked her head bashfully. “Thank you. You look quite beautiful yourself.” Your cheeks burned with her words.

Reaching into your jacket pocket you pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box. “When I saw this, I couldn’t help but think of you.” You explained as you bashfully offered her the box which she shyly accepted.

You watched with bated breath as she opened the box and pulled out the dainty necklace with a small crescent moon attached to the chain. “It reminded me of the night we spent at your spot. When we looked at the stars.” You added after a moment of silence, feeling your nerves build the longer she went without saying a word.

“Y/n. It’s beautiful. I love it.” Wanda finally said as gaze shifted to meet yours. There were constellations in her eyes. Your heart thudded heavily against your chest at the sight. “Can you help me put it on?”

Wordlessly you took the necklace from her hand and moved to stand behind her. Your breath became heavy when she pushed her hair to the side. You clasped the necklace and quickly moved to stand in front of her again. “Beautiful.” She blushed.

The rest of the night was much easier to get through with Wanda by your side and the hours passed by in a blur. “So, what exactly is it you do?” You asked with a quirked brow. “I mean, I know you get sent crazy places, but you always avoid saying what you do exactly.”

Wanda shifted uncomfortably at the question which you didn’t understand. “Oh. I do humanitarian work.” She began to play with her fingers which you now knew was a nervous habit. “With a really obscure company.”

You could sense that she was desperate for you to drop the subject, you just didn’t understand why. “Okay, Wanda.” You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that she didn’t want to tell you whatever it was she was hiding.

There was a brief moment of silence. “You know, I hadn’t acknowledged my birthday since I lost Pietro. I expected this night to be so hard.” Wanda admitted suddenly, her eyes clouding over.

You took her hand in yours. “We celebrate him today too, Wanda. Even if he’s not here with you now. He’s here.” You pointed to the center of her chest with your free hand, “And here.” Your pointer finger lightly tapped her temple. “And he always will be.”

A shaky breath escaped her lips and your heart hurt for the woman before you. “I know. I miss him. Everyday. Especially on days like today.” You squeezed her hand lightly in comfort. “But being here with you made today a little easier.”

“I know there’s nothing I could say that could ever fix the hurt, but I’m here for you.” You told her quietly. “You deserve the world, Wanda.”

A small smile formed on her lips, “Thank you. Hopefully we’ll see it together.” Wanda’s eyes widened slightly as if she wasn’t meant to say that out loud. You heart fluttered.

Almost immediately she ducked her head, her hair falling gracefully in her face. You reached a hand out to gently brush away a piece of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.

Your hand lingered as your thumb lightly caressed her jaw. Wanda leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering.

What I wouldn’t give to be able to kiss her. How can I be just friends with someone who I want to kiss? You thought to yourself as you became lost in her eyes. Wanda’s cheeks flushed as she raised her hand to rest over yours.

Her lips parted slightly, and your eyes were almost immediately drawn to the action. Your breathing became more ragged as you fought against every instinct to stop yourself from leaning in and feeling her soft lips against your own.

Am I dreaming or is she leaning in? You wondered in disbelief.

“Alright, sis! Time to sing happy birthday!” Leigh interrupted with a clap of her hands. Both you and Wanda sprung apart, matching blushes on each of your cheeks.

Your brow furrowed at the overdramatic smile on Leigh’s face. It was obviously fake and being fake was so out of character for her. “Looks like the spotlight is calling, birthday girl.” You whispered in Wanda’s ear with a playful smile.

A quiet laugh fell from her lips as she met your eyes. “Looks like it.” She bit her lip shyly. “To be continued?”

Your body vibrated with excitement. “To be continued.” You promised.

Leigh took Wanda by the hand and dragged her away just as she opened her mouth to respond. You could see Leigh’s jaw was clenched from where you stood.

A moment later everyone in the yard was singing to the two women and you couldn’t, for the life of you, tear your eyes away from Wanda and the way she shifted uncomfortably under the all attention she was receiving.

When her eyes met yours, her shoulders visibly relaxed and you played up the way you were singing in hopes of easing her discomfort. The smile that overcame her features made making a fool of yourself in front of all of Leigh’s snobby friends more than worth it.

As you were making your way over to Wanda after the cake had been distributed, you saw Leigh storms off out of the corner of your eye. You worriedly watched her disappear into the house.

“Hey, do you mind if I go check on Leigh? She looked upset.” You asked Wanda when you were finally stood in front of her.

Wanda shook her head with a small smile. “Not at all. I’ll go talk to Jules while I wait.”

You easily returned her smile. “I’ll be back.” You assured her as you turned to head inside, following the path you had seen just seen Leigh take.

When you walked into the kitchen you saw Leigh slam a bowl into the sink, the glass shattering on impact. Your eyes widened in concern. “Leigh!” Instead of answering, she took a plate and threw it into the sink as well, the shattered pieces mingling with the fragments of the bowl. You rushed over to her as she picked up another plate. “Leigh, stop.” You took her hands and gently pulled her away from the sink.

Her breathing was shallow, and her jaw remained clenched angrily, but no words left her lips. “Look, I know today is hard for you.” You began cautiously.

Leigh ripped her hands away from yours. “You don’t know anything.”

“Let me help.” The words bordered on pleading as you could see that all her defenses were up.

“I don’t need your help. You can’t do anything for me.”

Going against your better judgement, you continued. “I know you’re suffering, Leigh, and I know that you feel suffering is all you are but you’re more than that-”

Her words were so faint you could barely hear them. “Stop.”

“It can be a part of who you are, but don’t let the pain push away the people who care about you.”

“STOP!”

You recoiled in surprise, taking an involuntary step back. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help.”

Leigh pushed a frustrated hand through her hair. “Well you’re not helping! Stop trying to fix me!”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Leigh.” You insisted as you took a cautious step forward.

“You are though!” Her eyes were wide with fury.

The last thing you wanted was to make her feel like she needed to be fixed. You just wanted to help ease her pain. “I really wasn’t, Leigh. I was worried, and I wanted to see if there was something I could do to-”

“You’re pathetic! I just use you and you keep coming back.” A dark chuckle fell from her lips. You flinched. “I’m not yours! I was never yours and I will never be yours! I’m never going to want you back so just stop!”

There was a heavy silence in the air as Leigh’s chest heaved from the force of her words. It was a low blow and she knew it. You’ve had plenty of experience being burned by Leigh’s words, but this time felt different though. It was final. She finally said how she truly felt. You were done avoiding that.

You schooled your features and nodded slightly. “Okay. I’m sorry. Have a good rest of your night, Leigh. Happy birthday.”

Leigh was a hurricane, what more did you expect than to be caught in the downpour?

“Y/n-” You left before she could say another word, so you didn’t see the way her face dropped as tears welled in her eyes.

If Wanda wasn’t still there you would have left and never looked back, but you knew you couldn’t leave her without an explanation. In a useless attempt to gather your emotions, you paused before entering the backyard and took a deep breath, clearing your mind.

The sight of Wanda’s smile brought you a small sense of peace, but it couldn’t take away from the fact that your precariously healed wounds had been ripped open. Ashes within yourself had been set ablaze in anguish once again. You needed to tend to the flames on your own.

“Hey.” You softly called, your hand on her elbow. She turned from Jules who quietly excused herself. “I'm sorry, but I have to go. I’m not feeling well.”

Wanda’s brows furrowed, and her eyes filled with worry. You mentally cursed yourself because you knew she didn’t buy it. “Are you okay?”

You nodded in hopes of reassuring her, your lips quirking up halfheartedly. “I really am not feeling well.” Which wasn’t entirely a lie. “Do you maybe want to do something this week though?”

The worry never faded from her eyes as she nodded faintly. “That sounds great, Y/n.”

“Perfect. I’ll call you. Happy birthday, Wanda. I hope it was a good one.” You leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her cheek, smiling slightly at the blush that was left in your wake.

Wanda began fidgeting with her fingers. “It was. Bye, Y/n.” She said shyly as you walked away. When you had disappeared out of view, Wanda turned to face the house. If something had happened with you, she figured she should check on Leigh. She was her sister after all.

When Wanda entered the kitchen, she found Leigh leaning against the counter, her face buried in her hands. Wanda knocked lightly on the wall to get her attention. “Hey, Leigh. Are you okay?’

Leigh’s head shot up, her posture relaxing slightly when she saw it was Wanda. “Why? What did Y/n say?”

Wanda blinked in surprise. “Nothing. I just wanted to check on you.”

A smile that didn’t reach her eyes formed on Leigh’s face. “Right. Well, I’m fine.”

“Okay, I just wanted to check.” Wanda eyed Leigh skeptically but didn’t push. “I think I’m going to head home, it’s been a long day. Thank you for inviting me. I had fun.” Leigh just nodded as Wanda began to exit the kitchen.

“Hey, Wanda?” Leigh called. Wanda stopped and turned to face Leigh, her eyebrows raised in question. “Look, we’re sisters now, right?”

Hesitantly Wanda nodded, unsure of where Leigh was going with her words. “Yes…”

Leigh shifted slightly. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Of course. What is it?” Wanda worriedly walked over to the other side of the counter, so she was face to face with Leigh.

There was a brief moment of silence before Leigh met Wanda’s eyes again. “I need you to stay away from Y/n.”

The surprise of the statement made Wanda laugh. Her laughter quickly faded away when she realized Leigh wasn’t joking. “You can’t be serious.”

Leigh rubbed at her temple, avoiding her twin's gaze. “I am. I need you to stay away from Y/n.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” Wanda eventually replied, her head tilted slightly. Leigh’s eyes hardened when she met Wanda's determined stare.

And we have concluded part 3! Chaos has ensued. Thank you all so much for all the positive feedback this story has been getting! I hope you all enjoy this part just as much. Are we team Leigh or team Wanda? I would love to read your thoughts!

As always thoughts and comments always welcome. :)

Tag list: @khiaraaa-in-spacee // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @halobaby //@madamevirgo

// @aimezvousbrahms //@trikruismybitch // @marvels-writings

// @izalesbean // @imdreamingblo // @i-choose-you-cyndaquil

// @helloalycia // @scarlets-maximoff //@cantcontroltheirfear // @women-am-i-right //@funnysoldier //@myfavoriteficss //@imapotatao

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximov #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x y/n #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader #leigh shaw #leigh shaw x reader

487 notes · View notes

knickynoo · 3 years ago

Note

Gonna regret asking this as soon as you answer, but what do you think Marty would’ve done had doc actually died in the parking lot? Like immediately and beyond? And just to spread the pain around, what would doc have done had Marty died by buford’s hand?

This is another one of those asks that got backlogged. Sorry, anon. I've given some thought to these scenarios, though, and, well...I'm sorry. This is gonna be dark.

Had Doc not heeded Marty's warning and actually died (& assuming Marty re-loading the time machine with plutonium and trying to fix things isn't possible for some reason):

Marty would've continued to sit on the cold ground, sobbing for a long while. Einstein would join him, torn between trying to comfort his young friend and whimpering by Doc, trying to get the man to wake up.

Once the initial flood of tears eases, I could see Marty getting angry. Like, the angriest he's ever been. Screaming at Doc, at himself, and maybe finding things in Doc's truck to throw around and destroy. Then another wave of sadness would hit and he'd break down again.

Eventually, Marty would realize he needed to get moving. Someone was bound to see the fire caused by the Libyans' van and also the truck, DeLorean on the street in town, and the man lying dead in the mall parking lot. He'd know that the police would soon be called and that there would be a lot of questions that he'd rather not have to answer, but Marty would be very hesitant to go. He wouldn't want to leave his best friend. How could he? It would be a betrayal. He'd be a coward to run. Doc wouldn't leave him if the roles were reversed. So he'd stay, shivering in the cold night air, trying to figure out what he'll say. What they'll ask him.

After, he'd find a payphone and call the police himself. Upon their arrival, though, he'd lean into his own hysteria and act like he had no clue what happened. Maybe explain he was Doc's assistant and that he'd been asked to come to the mall but he'd shown up late and found the scene as it was already. When it came down to it, Marty would really be too much of a mess to talk to anyone, and the authorities on the scene would just see a distraught kid who needed to get home.

(There's a lot that could probably be said about how things would unfold once Marty got home, but in the interest of wanting to skip ahead, I'll just say that George and Lorraine would be horrified. Scared out of their minds and confused at what had happened. They'd likely do everything in their power to shield Marty from questions and prying eyes in the weeks that would follow)

Oh, right...on top of Doc being dead and Marty having witnessed it (twice!), he'd also have to deal with the whiplash at his suddenly new family. Which would really not be a good situation.

Things would rapidly fall apart for Marty once the dust settled and the reality of things set in. He'd be dealing with a family who all felt like strangers. He'd have no memories of ever having lived with those people. He wouldn't even be able to talk to Jennifer about anything for fear of sounding crazy and scaring her away. His best friend in the world, the only person who Marty felt truly understood him, was gone.

I think some pretty significant PTSD would be likely. Marty would have constant nightmares of Doc getting killed. Of trying and failing over and over to save him. And even with his loving, supportive parents doing all they can, it wouldn't be enough. Marty wouldn't feel a real connection to them or want their help. He wouldn't want Jennifer's help. He'd just want Doc back. He'd torture himself with thoughts of what he could have done differently that night he left 1955 or upon his arrival back to '85. He'd blame himself entirely for not trying hard enough. Not being smart enough or brave enough to have done something to save Doc.

Things would only be made worse as rumors swirled around town. Doc would be solidified as a villain in Hill Valley. A crazy, dangerous man who drew terrorists to their quiet little town and almost got a teenager killed. Marty would have to listen to whispers of people's theories as to what happened that night and hear them express their relief that Doc was no longer around to cause them any trouble. People would shoot Marty sideways glances, either looking down on him for having been acquainted with the deranged scientist or holding pity for him. Classmates would harass and taunt him, wanting to know what happened. Wanting to hear the "real story".

All the while, Marty is consumed by a grief he's unable to escape. He'd probably go one of two ways. Too depressed to function, he'd sort of withdraw entirely from life. Break up with Jennifer, shut his family out, abandon his music, etc. He'd see no real point in trying to make a good life for himself and be too anxious to ever move out of his comfort zone. On the other hand, he could give in to his anger and swing the other way, becoming self-destructive and sabotaging his future--drinking, dropping out of school, and using his fists to deal with any peers who dare to say a bad word about Doc. Either way, he'd be upset at himself because he'd know Doc would want better for him. Expect better of him. But he wouldn't be able to pull himself together because he'd be so stuck having convinced himself Doc's death was his fault.

Where would all of this leave our dear Marty as the years pass? I'm not sure. He'd either spiral totally beyond reach or eventually hit rock bottom and realize that he had to let go of all the sadness and anger and live up to all the potential Doc was always saying he had. At that point, though, he would have lost years to his grief, so getting his life together would be difficult. And...yeah.

That was lovely, wasn't it? Doc's turn!

Had Marty actually been killed by Buford (again assuming using time travel to fix things isn't an eventual option):

I feel like, initially, Doc would skip right past the devastated/crying phase and go immediately to a level of anger he'd never felt before. Do you remember how he acted when Buford was harassing Clara at the dance, especially when she was pushed down? Remember how it took 3 of Buford's guys to hold Doc back?? Yeah, well, take that and multiply it a couple of times.

I think it's quite possible that Doc would attempt to take Buford down right there, which likely wouldn't end well for him. But he wouldn't even care. He was heartbroken already over Clara and then his best friend in the world is killed in front of him. All rational parts of Doc would be gone. And seeing as Buford is, you know, dangerously unhinged and has his little posse with him, Doc might end up getting himself killed a minute or two later as well. In which case...well, that would be the end of this scenario. He and Marty would end up buried next to each other in the Old West.

If Doc somehow managed to survive an encounter with Buford, or if he didn't confront him at all because he was in such a state of shock, I think he'd resign himself to a quiet, lonely life in the 1880s. I'm not sure if he'd stay in town and work as a blacksmith. Maybe? If he wanted the distraction? But he also might move away to a little house and just live off the land.

Not sure how Clara would factor in, assuming she'd return to town to find Doc after getting off her train. I don't know if Doc would push her away, wanting to be totally alone in his misery or if he would cling to her.

Doc would be dealing with a lot of guilt. He'd decide that he was responsible for Marty's death. After all, he'd made the decision to stay in the saloon all night, and Marty had to then track him down. Then he'd taken that shot and passed out, costing them valuable time they could have otherwise used to be well on their way to the train. They could have avoided Buford altogether if it weren't for him, Doc would conclude, and in his mind, he'd essentially forced Marty to have to face the man.

Doc might eventually settle into a routine and go about living his life, but I don't know that he'd ever recover from the crushing guilt he'd feel. Losing Marty would shatter him. Marty was the first person to reach out to him, even with all the rumors and disdain other residents of the town threw his way. Marty liked and accepted him for who he was, something no one else had ever truly done. Marty brought so much good into his life, and in exchange, Doc had done all he could to be there for and protect his young friend--to help him see his own potential. But he couldn't protect Marty, and that failure would hurt more deeply than every other one combined.

Basically, I think that Doc would just lose part of himself after losing Marty. Even if he married Clara and had Jules and Verne and ended up with a nice life, he'd always feel the absence of his friend. He wouldn't ever fully be "Doc" again--more of a subdued, more serious version of himself.

I could see him holding it together for the most part, being a family man, all that stuff. But then he'd have moments where he'd find himself alone and just fall apart. And just to make things extra sad for anyone who's read this far, I imagine Doc taking very frequent trips to wherever Marty is buried, laying a few flowers down, and staying there for hours, crying, praying, talking to himself, or just sitting in silence.

Well. Anyway.

Thanks for the ask?

#back to the future #bttf #marty mcfly #doc brown #asks #anon you said you would regret your ask and I want to know if you do lol

53 notes · View notes

bunny-hoodlum · 3 years ago

Text

Asynchronous With You: Ch 5

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (maybe mature later)

tags: Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication/Noncommunication, Found Family

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

Neji met them outside the dorm gates. As generous as his dorm-mate Lee was, he couldn't ask him to step out for their sake.

They followed Neji to a nearby linear park that segregated the school grounds from the business park on the other side. It felt like a glass-less greenhouse, with polished granite beneath their feet and a vine-carpeted roof overhead. The benches were slabs of granite, as were the other fixtures, like an orb fountain in the center, with flawless skin of water running over its surface. The full trees muffled the night, with its crickets and distant chugging cars. The gentle, steady trickle contrasted against their footsteps, like two off-tempo drums and hers a mournful castanet.

Now that they were finally here, she was beginning to lose her nerve, she was forgetting what she had to complain about.

All that mattered was that she was healthy, right? All that mattered was that they were actually taking good care of her.

But the last thing she said to her, telling her to go home, saying that at least one of them should be loved by their parents, it began to eat at Hinata.

Could it be that she doesn't have any love to come home to?

Like resonance, her soul trembled and her ribs ached. The heel of her palm pressed against the skin between her wet eyes.

"I've become like them. I messed up."

The bench caught her before she could sink down to the ground.

"What're you talking about?" came Naruto's voice, barely reaching her ears.

"You mean Aunt and Uncle?"

Hinata nodded.

"What??" Naruto smacked his forehead rather hard. "How were you supposed to act?! They knew where you were! Nothing was stopping them from taking you guys back--"

"We don't know that." Hinata argued.

"Bullshit!"

"We don't," Her shoulders lifted, turning rigid. "They could barely take care of the two of us. It would've been the same if they had to take care of two daughters--"

"What about visits? What's so hard about keeping in touch?!"

She stayed silent. It wasn't that she hadn't considered that, it was that it was too upsetting to ruminate on any deeper.

"Ten years, Hinata. They had to have lied to her, right? Raised her believing she was an only child? C'mon, why aren't you angrier about this?!"

She wasn't sure if it was defiance that lifted her chin, but the eyes she chose to meet were Neji's as she implored him join in.

His eyes closed as he released a pensive sigh. "What's she like?"

"Don't change the subject," Naruto snapped. "Hinata needs to vent."

She prodded Neji with her stare. He shook his head.

"Who are you talking about?" Neji punctuated his rhetoric with a sidelong glance, causing Naruto to bristle. "This Hinata?"

"Yeah, this Hinata. Our Hinata. What the fuck, we've shared the same home for ten years! Hinata! You vent! You vented the other month about your-your shirt!" His face reddened as he brought up, perhaps, the worst example he possibly could.

"I was in a weird mood," Hinata said quickly, giving Naruto whiplash.

"A--A 'weird' mood?! What, like you just felt like messing with me kind of 'weird'??"

Hinata lamely shrugged her shoulders before curling in on herself like an armadillo. She could only imagine how exponential his irritation was to increase. She should've answered Neji's question right away instead of trying to convey her complaints to Neji, because now they were getting way off topic. Which was ironic for Naruto, who thought Neji was the one diverting attention away from her pain.

Neji pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what the story is, and I don't think I want to know."

"Good. 'Cuz I don't want to talk about it." Naruto huffed as he crossed his arms.

Silence lapsed around them. Somehow Hinata was rather surprised their arguing managed to fizzle out on its own and so quickly. The past was almost laughable in how different it was from the present.

'That's right. It's always going to be rocky at first, but it takes time to get used to one another.' This was proof that she and Hanabi could grow into sisters no matter how much time had been lost.

"Her name's Hanabi. Her favorite foods are bananas and milk, and she hates the herb mitsuba. She's cheerful, cheeky, and surprisingly athletic. And... I really want to get to know her better." The tears fell swifter and harder on her lap as she re-conjured the heartbroken betrayal she had put on Hanabi's face.

She really hoped it wasn't too late.

Neji joined her side and rubbed her back, while Naruto kept his distance.

Even though he had been given Neji's explicit blessing years before, somehow it didn't feel appropriate for him to console her too.

Looking at them now, it was like those two had never grown apart, not even a centimeter. And they had been communicating with their eyes, he was sure of it. Speaking around him, because he wasn't actually a part of this.

They're what real siblings look like.

________________________

Taking the midnight train back home, Naruto spent the next thirty minutes absorbed in the things that amused him, from sexy two-minute shorts, to prank compilations and this one guy from Kaminari that totally bites at rapping. Absolutely no one, neither he nor his 745k followers know if he's a comedy channel where he's bad on purpose, or if he's just gotten popular for all the wrong reasons, but watching him never fails to inspire a deep gut-laugh from Naruto.

Because he wouldn't be laughing this hard if something was bothering him, especially not a whole host of somethings.

He ignored how arriving at their station didn't feel quite right, how following Hinata didn't feel normal.

He was surprised when she finally started talking to him, yet the weariness her voice instilled was not lost on him.

"Who was the first girl you liked?"

"Hm? Oh, guess that'd be Sakura-chan."

"I see. And how old were you when you knew?"

"Eight, I guess?"

"Eight," The number floated from her mouth in an amazed whisper, "Do you think somebody already likes Hanabi-chan?"

A blond brow perked up. "Is this that protective Onee-san instinct kicking in already?" When she giggled, his heart sank.

"I suppose it is."

And when the silence closed in on him again, he spoke up to keep it going. "Uh, what about you?"

Her steps faltered for a second, then picked up with an exaggerated bounce. "There's someone."

"Still? Like, ongoing?"

"Mmhm."

Naruto blinked rapidly, whiplash striking again. How? How did he not know his sister liked someone? "Since when?"

"Mmmm," She hummed that note a little too long that bordered on mocking him, and he was about to storm on ahead of her, until she said, "Third grade."

"What?!" Ineloquent as that was, he somehow expected her to answer him. He stood there as she traipsed away, waiting until he was finally fed up. "Well, who the fuck is it?!"

"Guess."

He jogged after her. "Kiba?" His mouth soured at the thought.

She crossed her forearms into an 'X', making the buzzer sound in game shows when the contestant got the answer wrong. "Bubuu."

"Shino?" He didn't know what to think about that if it were true. Guess they were both quiet and smart and a little weird. Is that what compatibility looks like?

"Bubuu," she went again.

What other guys was she in contact with?

Shikamaru was a good friend who came over to game sometimes, but he definitely didn't sense anything there. No, no way it could be him. And everyone was pretty sure Sai was asexual.

"Sasuke?" Why not? He was the school heartthrob nine years running. Didn't matter whether Naruto understood the taste of girls or not, they all wanted him. He kinda wishes he noticed sooner now, because he imagining a plain girl like her pining for someone unreachable and he really hates that for her. When she slows to a stop under the streetlamp, he thinks he's finally figured it out, though the truth ended up being really anticlimactic in the end.

She half-turns towards him, her face blank save for the edge of distaste clinging to the corners of her lips and eyes.

"Gross."

He reeled back. "Gross? Whaddya mean gross?" She continued on her way, forcing him to jog after her. "Hey, I can't believe you think he's gross! Are you just being a contrarian?" Her pace picked up faster. "Y'know, like what unpopular girls do when they can't fit in?"And faster. "You really think he's gross?" She was hurrying on ahead and he was trying to catch a glimpse of her face, just a little bit of veracity. "Hinata?!"

They arrived at the steps of their apartment.

"You have until graduation to guess!" She called over her shoulder as she ran ahead, her voice pitching high at the end.

She was upset.

Her footsteps resounded through the corridors like frantic clapping, but he wasn't being congratulated at all.

It was finally apparent to him that he hasn't paid attention to Hinata in a long, long time. That's why Neji was making fun of him.

He took the elevator to their apartment, and when he reached the hole between their bedrooms, he got down on both knees and crouched his spine. They haven't used this in years, he couldn't believe how small they used to be, this hole had to be over three feet from the floor. It was making his back hurt. "Hinata," He bit his tongue with a pause. "What happens if I can't guess by graduation?" Nothing. Just silence. "Hinata? Are you not going to talk to me anymore?"

"Yeah," If a ghost could croak, that's what it sounded like. "If you can't guess by graduation, I'm not going to talk to you anymore."

He palmed the wall as he drew to full height, then stepped away, neither urgency nor insult registering in his chest. He didn't know what was in there. Maybe nothing. He raised his voice a little, just enough so that she could hear.

"I'm going to take this another weird mood of yours, okay? There's no way you really mean that."

Hovering for half a second more, he didn't give her time to respond as he headed for his bed on the opposite side of the room.

Maybe Sakura had the right idea about family. Maybe it's better to just find your own.

________________________

AN: Lel, I totally forgot to add the summary and ratings thing in the last chapter. 😜😅 Hope you liked this one!

#asynchronous with you fanfiction #naruhina #naruhina fanfiction #naruto x hinata #chapter 5 #modern au

33 notes · View notes

babytortie · 4 years ago

Text

unexpected

unexpected. ❘ stanley uris x reader.

a/n: this was requested by anon - love ur recent stanley fic! was wondering if you’re cool with doing a smut for him? (aged up of course!) if you’re comfortable, could you make the reader more dominant in bed/stanley being more submissive? perhaps and enemies to lovers, hate sex type. other than that, any plot line is just fine.

* hope this lives up to your expectations! tyty for requesting this one.

summary: in which stanley and reader argue worse than richie runs his trashmouth. after burning some pent-up tension one day, the two take a turn for the better and become more than just enemies.

warnings: s m u t. some fluff at end. <3

contains: enemies to lovers, degrading, hair tugging, harsh kisses w/ slight blood, mild orgasm denial, praises, rough and unprotected sex.

* all characters ( including reader ) of the loser's club are 18+ in this one-shot.

~ 3.4k words.

you twirled a strand of hair between your fingers, a magazine placed on your lap, and beverly's head rested on your shoulder, looking at the pages with you.

it was the summer and the group was all back home on break from college. the loser's wanted to hang out and all eight of you were at bill's house right now. on various couch cushions and seats in the living room. his parents were away for the night and the seven brought clothes to stay at his just in case it got a bit late.

"oh, do you think he's hotter? or him?" bev asked, leaning in closer to point at the page. it was some magazine about the hottest actors of the year, achievement wise. though some hot men that were in it was currently grabbing beverly's, well, and your attention too. you glanced down at the page, slightly comparing both actors and voiced, "definitely him."

the guys overheard this and rolled their eyes. they were taking turns playing on bill’s newest nintendo sixty-four. on the floor below you, sat the four a few feet away, this was because they wanted to be scooted closer to the television. even though it was perfectly fine to put their backs against the couch. typical males.

you worried for their eyesight, especially richie’s, since right now he and bill were battling on some game you didn’t know the name of while being too close to the screen. eddie was on a chair next to the couch and sat by you, wheezing as he watched how close of a tie it was between them. mike and stanley were sitting on the floor with them on either side, cheering on who they wanted to win.

this was while ben sat on the other side of bev and read some book that just came out earlier this week. a quarter of ben’s focus was on his hand. it was resting on beverly’s thigh and drawing small, mindless shapes in content. the two were newly dating after pinning on each other for forever.

"i think we should play would you rather!" mike turned his head and suggested after hearing your conversation with the red head. bill had just died on the game causing richie to jump up and cheer while blowing out the other three's ear drums.

ben closed his book and sat up straighter. he took a glimpse over at beverly to see what her decision was. eddie hesitantly agreed when you and bev nodded. “s-sure!” bill got up and pulled stan with him.

one weekend about four years ago when the denbrough’s were home and bill had the group of losers over, they noticed how you all squished on the seats in the living room. surprising bill with an extra couch a month after this, they were able to successfully squeeze it into the room and push it against the other wall.

the four others started to pile on the other couch a few feet away from the three of you and eddie who still sat on the single chair next to you. beverly pulled her head up and leaned over to whisper in your ear, “be nice to stanley please.”

knowing it wasn’t funny, looking at her anyway with a confused expression, you lied. "stanley who?" she immediately turned her neck back at you, probably receiving some whiplash and raised an eyebrow to challenge you.

"i'm serious y/n." beverly laughed dryly. you sighed and replied a short agreeable response. “alright bev, as long as he doesn’t start it, then i won’t do anything.” after, you zipped your lips and threw an imaginary lock in the direction behind eddie.

she smiled at you in thanks and then you two turned towards the room, noticing everyone was ready. “b-being as it w-was mike’s id-dea, he can g-go first.” bill announced while glancing around the room.

mike nodded and turned to the one who still wore coke-bottle glasses years later. “richie, would you rather never wear underwear again or never wear socks again?”

ben and bill stifled a laugh, already knowing what his response was going to be. eddie rolled his eyes as richie answered, “underwear since i go commando sometimes anyway.”

you put your finger in your mouth, pretending that you were about to throw up and mike shook his head at richie. you turned to your right and left, seeing eddie’s and beverly’s disgusted faces.

”okay, eddie spaghetti.” he paused. the seven of you looked at eds, who had already put his hand over his face in annoyance. you and beverly laughed when the shorter boy muttered, “here we go.” richie smirked and continued. “would you rather, accidently send a nude to your boss or your parents? and by parents i mean your mom and i.”

he rolled his eyes, “absolutely not richie. my mom would never get with you and i would die of embarrassment if it were sonia. she’d probably kidnap and lock me in my old room, never to be seen again. probably boss.”

eddie turned to you after the group cackled of laughter, especially richie at the response he was given. the two of you currently shared a science class together in college and the asthmatic based some of his question off of this. "alright y/n, would u rather hook up with one of football players or with mr. jackson down at the science lab?”

you placed the palm of your hand on your cheek, into a thinking position and replied. "well, i kind of answered that question at last weekend’s party?" beverly jumped up at this and gasped. "no way! with which one?"

"i don’t kiss and tell." you smirked. the others gagged at that. “ah okay, i see. that’s where you went when we couldn’t find you again.” ben commented. stanley had been a bit quiet during the conversation and decided to speak up. adding to this, while looking at you pointedly. "you kind of just did tell and admitted at the fact that you sucked off some guy.”

you weren’t usually the type to get flustered during conversations like this. instead owning it as if you weren’t bothered. this helped you avoid any teasing or any richie’s usual jokes. "at least i'm getting some!" muttering in stanley’s direction.

"i swear if you guys argue for one more minute, i'm going to shoot myself. go y/n. it’s your turn." mike spoke up in between you and stanley, trying to get the game rolling again.

you smiled, feeling a little eager at the next question. you looked at the curly haired sitting across the room from you. the others groaned knowing you were about to pick on him in some kind of way. "uris. for the rest of your sex life, would you rather be the top or bottom?”

he blinked in your direction, probably wanting to smack you for the inappropriate question. “depends, is it with anyone specific?” you looked down sheepishly, then back up. is this a trick question? i mean sometimes you did find stanley a little bit too attractive. “do you want it to be?” deciding to quip back with equal attitude, you asked.

the group looked between the two of you while waiting for a response from uris. the tension was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. letting out a scoff in return, he looked at you in the eyes and glared. speaking in a low tone, you almost didn’t hear him. "uh, i don’t know.”

"what do you mean? you don’t know?" richie snickered.

bill, beverly, ben, and mike started to get the picture together. eddie figured it out just a second before them, when you burst out giggling. before you could stop from helping yourself, you let out a harsh jab. “oh shit, that explains why you’re always so uptight! maybe you should unbutton some of that polo? might help so you aren’t choking on all that innocence."

that only made matters worse, the last pin in place to set him off. stanley angrily spewed some words under his breath. only catching your name, you figured it was most likely something badly about you. quickly getting up from his spot, his curls bounced up and down when he rushed upstairs to one of the bedrooms.

the others watched him disappear from the top step sadly and looked back at you with the look. you had the decency to look a bit guilty, an awkward grimace on your face. "uh, why are you all looking at me like that?"

eddie leaned over to elbow you and gave his puppy dog eyes in pleading. you sighed but started getting up anyway. you laced your hands together in front of your stomach, nerves a bit jittery at being in a room alone with him. "well, to state my case we were all having that kind of discussion! if he wasn't such a prude..." you trailed off.

ben got up, patting your shoulder. "we all know this but stanley is sensitive about these kinds of things. go apologize while we're on break now and we’ll get some drinks going."

you nodded and turned back around, starting towards the stairs and walked up slowly. richie decided this was a good time to be the loud trashmouth that he is and shouted. "it was nice knowing you, y/n!"

shaking your head, you reached the last step and rounded the corner. hearing a slap noise, you assumed tozier was probably getting hit on the back of his head. a moment later a "beep beep" came from mike and you let out a small laugh in relief that they had your back against the loud mouth.

strolling down the hallway, you spotted the second guest bedroom door closed and decided to knock on it. stan heard a faint knock and got up from the bed to open it, seeing y/n he groaned. "oh, it's just you."

you ignored his disappointed comment and bit your lip. looking up and down to observe his new look. he must have just changed. wearing a regular light blue t-shirt and grey sweats. you shook your head and looked up to see his grin, catching you in the act of checking him out.

rolling your eyes in response, like he usually did and walking around him, you closed the bedroom door shut after stepping inside. you grabbed a handful of stanley’s shirt and pushed him against the back of the door. more like he allowed you to do this but you were definitely in control of the situation.

you leaned in towards him and swiped the back of your thumb over his bottom lip to test his reaction. when he didn’t swat your hand away, you went on the tip of your toes and brushed his lips against yours.

stanley gasped into your mouth and deciding to use this as an opportunity, you placed the tip of your tongue on the bottom of his lip. right before you could actually do this, he apparently read your mind and left his mouth open purposely. you wanted to slap him.

nonetheless, he allowed you total access. surprising him on purpose, you shoved your tongue in his mouth. wishfully thinking about how you wanted to somehow choke him with it. he grabbed both sides of your shoulders and scooted you closer, clashing his teeth with yours. not wanting to let up the control he tried to grab, you grasped the back of his neck tightly and felt light-headed. sensing wetness pooling between your thighs from enjoying this too much, you cursed to yourself.

a small moan escaped out from your lips and as if it was his fault, you nipped his bottom lip. you tried to quickly get rid the thought of ever giving into stanley uris. he hissed sharply, tasting slight blood from the nick. uris mumbled. "bitch."

this angered you more. pulling away from his lips, you put on a fake smile. moving in a bit closer to mess with the collar of his shirt, you tugged on it roughly, your face still close with his. "ready to not be a virgin anymore, virgin?" you retorted.

he smirked, "as long as i'm not one anymore, i don't care who it's with. even someone like you." he emphasized in a nasty tone. you pulled the shirt up over his head and uttered out. "shut the hell up." stan hummed happily after his shirt was pulled up to see that you were glaring from his reply. the two of you heard loud steps down the hall by the stairs, so you placed a finger over his mouth.

after a moment later, you heard what you assumed was someone in the bathroom, closing door the shut. letting out a breath not realizing you were holding it, stanley took this as a distraction to slip your finger into his mouth. you gasped, eyes widening, "what the hell!"

pulling your hand back, you spoke and stared in his eyes to let him know just how serious you were. "here's how it's going to go if you want to get laid, uris. we're doing this my way. don't play around anymore and definitely don’t talk too much so i can picture literally anyone other than you."

stanley looked into your eyes, searching for any hints of a lie from your remark. when he saw your eyes looking clearly back into his, he sighed in defeat. not letting it show, he grinned nastily. ”fine by me, y/l/n.”

"now, bird-boy are you sure you can handle this?" you stated more than questioned, an eyebrow quirked up. you held onto the top of his sweats with an eyebrow quirked up. he clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth together so hard he hoped they wouldn't crack. "fuck you y/n."

“no, that’s what i’ll be doing to you.” disagreeing and putting your palm over him. “what do we have here?” you asked out loud, in general all snarky. he let out an annoyed noise when he felt you tease fingertips across his hard length. so, in retaliation, he grabbed your wrist and pushed the palm of your hand harder onto him.

you gasped at how big he was. you tried to cover the surprise, a ‘tsk, tsk’ falling from your lips. not letting go quickly enough stanley noticed this and smirked at you. frowning, you murmured. "ever heard of patience? such a bad boy."

uris let out a small, quiet groan from feeling your hands come off of him. which was something you caught and figured having teased him enough, you put your hands around the waistband of his pants. tugging them off along with his boxers. afterwards you pushed him down onto the bed and before he could do anything, you quickly made work of your shirt. pulling it over your head and unclipping your bra as well.

he put a hand through his curls, smoothing them out from the fall when he fell into the comforter. watching you, he could feel himself hardening painfully. he felt needy and done with the wait. pulling your wrist closer he pleaded. “come on, hurry. please y/n.”

”fine, you’ve waited long enough like a good little boy.” stanley flushed at your approving compliment and tried to hide it, looking down. you saw this when you moved to sit on top of him and smiled. grabbing his chin lightly, you tilted his head back up. while looking into his light brown eyes, you held his wrist and tugged his hand so it laid over on top your breast.

stanley’s breath hitched and you moved inwards toward his neck. your warm breath was touching his skin, feeling cheeks reddening more. uris felt, palmed, and squeezed a little as you sucked small hickeys on his neck. not to dark but enough to be just visible if one were close up.

kissing his cheek and tilting back up, he dropped his hand and you happened to see his cheeks and neck all red. the quick switch of his attitude still shocked you to the core. ”are you sorry for calling me a bad name, baby?” he ignored your comment like a brat and kissed the inside of your wrist. you melted a little in his touch before going back to the task at hand.

you slowly let out of his grasp to unbuckle the belt and unbutton your shorts. you shimmied out of them and wanting to hurry up, you just moved your panties to the side and out of the way. pumping him a few times, you started to align him to your center. before you moved down onto him, you placed your hand on his cheeks in a sweet gesture and silently asked for reassurance. he nodded and you slowly slid down into him, both of you letting out small moans. “feel so good.” you muttered.

stilled for a moment, you let yourself adjust to his length and him to the feel. your hips went back up and you moved in forward, kissing him again. it slowly turned into a sloppy make out when you slammed your hips back down again. his tongue shoved in your mouth when you gasped in pleasure. after you found a rhythm you babbled on and on about how stanley was doing so good for you.

"i need you to put your fingers on my clit and rub." you said softly but still in a demanding tone. directing his hand exactly where you wanted it, you nodded when he looked at you again. his fingers moved quickly, drawing out an orgasm that you felt nearing.

lacing your fingers through his curly hair. stanley let out a loud moan as you tugged the locks. "now for the sake of you being able to cum, i'm going to ask again. are you sorry my baby boy?" he really didn't want to have to see the satisfactory in your face if he apologized. though, after a small moment went by, he realized that you weren't joking.

he let out a small, almost incoherent whine. pleading you with his big hazel eyes, "i-i'm sorry y/n. so sorry, c-can i cum please?" stanley would have never thought he'd be the submissive type but he found himself melting at your praises, quite easily. he liked letting you have some control and for once being able to sit back.

you smirked at him and let go. patting his cheek in almost a mocking way. "awe such a good boy but i think you can wait another minute." his eyes widened and you placed your hands back up onto his chest, steadying your balance before moving your hips back up and down repeatedly and harshly against his. he moaned when you kept going back down on his cock. feeling his pelvis right up against your very sensitive bundle of nerves, you squirmed.

stanley smirked, feeling you tighten around him. knowing you were close was a relief. constantly feeling so good on him made him hard and straining inside of you. tears prickling in the back of his eyes and wanting to cum so badly was difficult. uris felt not wanting to disobey you was more important as he patiently waited. pushing harder on your clit is what caused you to unravel, tightening completely around him. "oh fuck! s-such a good boy. cum with me now."

he came so hard, the hardest ever. which wasn't much to go off on, from the obvious conversation before. feeling euphoria, you rode through your high and his, milking every last drop of cum. you started to feel shaky. before your hips gave out, you placed one last kiss on his slightly darkening hickey.

after you fell on the bed next to him, he pulled you close. you turned your head in his embrace, eyes widening. you knew without a doubt they looked like they were probably about to fall out of the sockets. assuming even bigger eyes then richie's usual ones due to his glasses.

uris pursed his lips, kissing the top of your forehead before he could overthink it. “we need to talk. y/n/n." you tried to open your mouth, but closed it again. stanley used your nickname, he has never used it before. you were in disbelief, frozen, and unable to say a word. he rescued you and spoke up again. "you know i don't hate you, right?"

you swallowed feeling like a brick was falling from your shoulders and nodded. "i don't hate you either stan. this is not what i was expecting though to make up." you giggled causing him to chime in. the awkwardness was finally settled but you paused and asked nervously. "do you think we're worse than eddie and richie?"

he shook his head, not even needing to think on it and responded sweetly. "no, we're okay now and i have a feeling that richie will tease eddie even after we're all dead."

you laughed together once more, agreeing with stan’s opinion which would probably be a proven fact one day. "that's true. poor eddie!" snuggling closer into his back and finally, truly feeling at peace.

171 notes · View notes

fettsvette · 3 years ago

Text

Never Worn White (Part Two)

Cloud City, Bespin. Boba Fett is on the hunt for a casual fuck before he cashes in on Han Solo’s bounty. You’re a naïve virgin, saving yourself for an adolescent fantasy… and it just so happens that he’s in town. Upon encountering the object of your infatuation though, you didn’t expect he’d be so willing to help you out.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 6.8k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Loss of virginity and unprotected sex

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Mando’a terminology

vaar’ika - little runt

nehutyc’ika - feisty one

cyar’tomade - fans

“Your boyfriend’s at the Atrium.”

The words were like a lightning strike through the very fiber of your being, your whole body vibrating, no matter how teasingly and sarcastically they were meant. Your head jerked up so fast from the holopad screen you’d been gazing at that you felt as if you had just given yourself whiplash, and your blood pressure instantly skyrocketed, leaving you feeling light-headed and dizzy. Your roommate grinned lecherously at you, their eyes glinting mischievously. They were one of the few people to know about your feelings for Boba Fett, and it was obvious now that they were torturing you, feeding you false information and getting your hopes up just to watch you fluster and squirm like a giddy schoolgirl. Of course, they didn’t know the extent of your infatuation, and what you were planning if you ever happened to cross paths with the infamous bounty hunter during his unprecedented stay in Cloud City. You didn’t intend to allow them to find out, either.

“...What are you talking about? Stop it...” You replied faintly, gazing up at them dumbly from your perch on the couch, uncrossing your legs and attempting to knead the life back into the prickling muscles. Your gaze drifted to your hands as you did so, trying futilely to get them to stop shaking just so your flatmate didn’t have something else to rib you over, and then skirted over to the wide window looking out over the city. Neat rows of transports crisscrossing in every direction lined the nighttime sky, carrying Cloud City’s citizens and tourists alike to where they needed to go. You couldn’t help but direct your vision towards the vicinity of the entertainment district, its bright lights plainly visible from your apartment. The Paradise Atrium was only a short distance away from your apartment on Figg Avenue, even closer than the landing bay where the Slave I was still docked. There was no way. It was too good to be true, simply meant to be. He was coming closer and closer to you.

“I’m not kidding. Boba Fett’s at the Paradise Atrium, right now . I had to stop there on my way home to drop off a couple containers of glitterstim my boss owed the slimeball that owns that place, y’know? I walked in and he was literally right there in the cantina, just sitting at one of the booths in the corner… the ones they always reserve for the really top-tier VIPs.” They explained seriously, and you envisioned the layout of the lounge in your mind, an establishment you had visited quite often. Your thoughts brought you to the very rear of the adjacent and aptly-named Paradise Cantina... into the recesses of a shadowy booth, where sat an imposing figure in a battle-worn suit of Mandalorian armor, reclined against the plush backing of the stall, legs spread almost obscenely wide. His codpiece was mysteriously absent, and you could see everything . He beckoned you closer with the twitch of a gloved finger ...and you shook yourself from your reverie, acutely aware that a cold sweat had started collecting on the back of your neck. You fought the urge to slap yourself across the face, the imagined mercenary still calling to you from your subconscious.

“Okay, okay… crik. Are you absolutely sure it was him?” You pleaded desperately, and your roommate openly rolled their eyes in your direction, shaking their head incredulously. You needed to be sure . You’d heard of the Fett imposter Jodo Kast, and even though the presence of the Slave I on-world was an immediate indication that the visitor was the real deal himself, there was still a niggling disbelief in your mind. This just could not be happening right now.

“Of course I’m sure! Kriff, how many Mandos do you think are just walking around Cloud City? Beefy-looking buckethead wearing green scrap metal, more weapons on him than stars in the sky. Poor kid they had serving him was terrified, the guy was shaking so bad he almost dropped a whole tray of brinebrew on the graysuits that were in the booth with him. And - okay, are we just going to ignore the fact that I called Boba kriffing Fett your boyfriend and you didn’t even blink? Honestly, I really can’t believe you sometimes…”

You didn’t even wait for them to finish. The fact that there were apparently high-ranking Imperial officers meeting with this mystery man was all the information you needed for any seed of doubt in your mind to be crushed. The holopad fell from your hands to land screen-down on the floor, entirely forgotten. Leaping up from the couch and power-walking towards your bedroom on tremulous legs, you flung the door closed behind you and hurriedly began rooting through your closet, looking for something halfway presentable to change into. You stripped yourself of your sweatpants and ripped t-shirt, having instantly settled on a glittering shimmersilk dress that you’d impulsively bought as a present to yourself after your last pay raise. You paused as you pulled the thin material over your head, debating whether or not to put on a bra before you dressed any further. With a curt sigh at yourself, you continued to slip your arms through the straps, smoothing the bunched fabric over the swell of your breasts. There was no point in bothering with one of those itchy, lacy garments you owned, that only you had ever laid eyes on - if all went according to plan tonight, your bra would just be coming off sooner rather than later anyway. You bent to slip your bare feet into a pair of plain black flats - you’d considered heels for a brief moment, but decided against them on the off-chance you had to make a quick getaway - when you were interrupted by the bedroom door colliding with the wall as it was unceremoniously flung open.

“...And just where the frozz do you think you’re going wearing that ?” A disbelieving voice intoned harshly from the doorway, and you looked up to see your roommate blocking the light flooding in from the living area, a panic-stricken expression written across their features. You paused, your arms hanging limply at your sides, staring determinedly back at your roommate, whose face was beginning to reflect a dawning sense of horror and understanding.

“ Out. ” You answered in a bland monotone, snatching your handbag off the bed and peeking inside of it, making sure that the keycard to your apartment door, as well as your credit chip and a healthy pouch of physical Imperial credit coins, were tucked away safely inside. Your roommate strode forward, grabbing your forearm and squeezing tightly, causing you to wince as they forced you to look them in the eye.

“Out where ?”

You didn’t reply, your plans already dangerously close to unraveling. Your roommate’s grip tightened to the point of pain, and you were stunned to see that their eyes had filled with tears of fright. You knew you should feel guilty for putting them through this sort of duress, for worrying them to the point of weeping over your safety, but the only thing you found yourself feeling was a sort of grim pleasure. The fact that someone you had grown so close to in your years of living in Cloud City, a creature you considered to be one of your closest friends, could be frightened to this level by the thought of you becoming somehow entangled with the notorious Boba Fett, did nothing but give you a sick sense of satisfaction deep in your gut. It heightened the swirling arousal that was already building deep in the pit of your belly, fantastical images of what this night’s adventure could possibly bring already brewing in your mind. Your roommate finally loosened their vice grip on your arm and shook their head unbelievingly, backing away from you as if you were tainted.

“Oh, stars … I know what you’re thinking. Please don’t do this. This isn’t some game of Droids and Guards, you fool, he’s dangerous .” They begged, seeming nearer and nearer to tears with every word.

“Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to get myself into a situation I can’t handle, I just… I just want to see him.” You adjusted the strap of your handbag on your shoulder and heard the childish, lovestruck pleading in your voice. You hated yourself for it, for letting yourself get this much in a tizzy over a mere man - but this truly wasn’t just a man, was it? You could very possibly wind up in bed with none other than Boba Fett by the end of the night, if the galaxy was kind to you. He was going to be the first to ever claim you - as you pushed past your roommate and headed for the door, you were certain of it. This was your darkest, deepest fantasy come true, something you had been pining for and secretly dreaming about since you were old enough to even fathom the concept of sex, of virginity. Boba Fett was the only man you’d ever thought about giving yourself to for years now, and this was quite possibly your only chance. There was no turning back now.

“Didn’t you hear me say that he was surrounded by Imps?! High-ranking Imps ! He kills people for money! He’s here working for the Emperor, I know it, and that big brute Vader’s still lurking around -” You held up one hand to silence them, and to your surprise, they immediately stopped, wild-eyed and staring at you imploriously, hands raised above their head. You had never seen your friend this keyed up, this stricken by concern for your wellbeing. It felt strange to say, but other than mynocks in your stomach from thinking about how the rest of the night could go, you didn’t understand just what this panic was all about. You weren’t stupid enough to interrupt important Imperial business, and it wasn’t like Lord Vader himself was going to be sitting at the bar, nursing a drink - right?

“Just… don’t wait up for me tonight. Okay?” You quietly begged your friend, your voice sweetly soft and as neutral as you could manage. A long moment passed between the two of you, no words spoken, just gazing into each other’s eyes. Several beats passed in silence, only the traffic outside interrupting the heavy tension that filled the room. Your roommate was the first to break, their shoulders sinking, defeated. You felt a new burst of energy and smug satisfaction, but couldn’t help but feel somewhat remorseful at your reaction towards their obvious distress. The feeling passed quickly, however, when your roommate bowed their head, the ghost of a smile on their lips as they clucked their tongue and shook their head at you.

“Dank farrik… you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that? ...But okay. You win.” They sighed. You kept your expression even, although you were screaming with joy on the inside, and were about to reach out to embrace them, when they took a step back and pointed in your face. You felt yourself going slightly cross-eyed, following their finger down the bridge of your nose, and had to stifle an ill-timed giggle. “But if you’re not back by sunrise, I’m contacting the Wing Guard and reporting you missing, and I’m going to tell them who you were trying to meet up with. I’ll get Baron Calrissian and the Alliance involved. Don’t think I won’t.” They continued, and your heart skipped a beat. You certainly weren’t expecting that turn of events, but weren’t exactly surprised either. With how sympathetic your roommate was to the Rebel Alliance, especially concerning the events of the past week and the installation of what the locals were beginning to call the ‘Iron Blockade,’ it made sense that they would threaten you with action involving the Rebellion, even if it was just out of concern for your safe return. It wasn’t that you didn’t support the Rebels yourself - their crushing blow to the Empire in the form of the destruction of the Death Star had reinvigorated your hope in their cause, especially after the horrific obliteration of Alderaan - but the purely selfish, immature side of you wondered what would happen to Boba Fett if the Rebellion were to come out the victors of this current Galactic Civil War. He was one of Vader’s most loyal hunters, and you had a feeling that the Rebels wouldn’t smile kindly upon his transgressions against them. Especially since one of their most famous generals, Han Solo, currently had a bounty on his head large enough to buy an entire spice mine, and it had been speculated on the HoloNet that Fett was one of the many mercenaries attempting to cash in on this coveted prize.

You walked past your roommate without another word, slipping past them in the doorway of your bedroom, and padded easily across the living area carpet, knowing now that they’d had put their last word in and would no longer attempt to stop you. Settling your hand upon the doorknob leading into the hall, you were about to let yourself out into the night when you heard the Aruzan softly call your name, and you turned. They stood in the center of the room, smiling sadly, arms folded across their chest, a look of intense worry upon their face as they watched you exit, hoping they would find you back home in the morning. Their last words to you rang in your ears as you made your way across the night sky in the space taxi that would deposit you right on the steps of the Atrium.

“Good luck.”

You stepped into the main lounge of the Paradise Atrium and instantly felt incredibly out of place, and exorbitantly underdressed despite the expensive shimmersilk you had draped yourself in for this special occasion.

The room was filled with regal-looking creatures from all over the galaxy - a large group of Twi’leks sat on a couch in the far corner, smoking from a hookah and emitting large columns of purple and green smoke through their nostrils in between bouts of gay laughter, and a company of important-looking Nothoiin congregated around the elaborate carbonite sculpture placed in the center of the room. You’d attended gatherings at the Atrium many times before, but you’d never been in the presence of so many upper-class individuals. You wouldn’t be surprised if just one of these creatures was currently carrying more credits in their pockets than you would ever see in your entire lifetime. Not to mention, there were several armored stormtroopers, their white plastoid suits gleaming in the artificial light, holding sentinel near the staff entrance at the rear of the room, a sight you’d never seen here before. Something was definitely going down in Cloud City, and you had walked right into it. That realization alone made you want to sink into the floor, and what made it even worse was the fact that there was no sign of Boba Fett.

You had crept into the Atrium as discreetly as you could, almost on tiptoe, and in hindsight you weren’t exactly sure what you had been expecting. Had you thought that you’d walk in and Fett himself would have been standing there, awaiting your entrance like a prince from ancient myth, on call for his princess’s arrival at the ball? Heart hammering wildly, leaning against the wall for support, you had scanned the room twice, then thrice over, looking for a flash of green, a swirl of cape, any indication that he was present, only to come up empty. He simply wasn’t here; at least he wasn’t anymore, if he ever had been in the first place. As much as you loved your roommate, and despite their almost violent reaction they’d had to the knowledge that you were - at the very least - trying to meet Boba Fett, it wouldn’t terribly surprise you if they had been pulling your leg all along. You’d trudge back into your shared apartment, dejected, and your roommate would be there, grinning smugly, lecturing that the moral of this story was to never seek company with strange men.

Gazing around the room once more and seeing no sign of Fett, or at the very least, the Imperial graysuits that he’d apparently been here meeting with, you found yourself almost embarrassingly heartbroken. You’d banked so much on tonight, only for it to wind up being a missed chance, if not a complete fake-out. You refused to give your roommate the satisfaction of heading straight back home, though, so you figured now was as good a time as any to drink your sorrows away at the bar. The Paradise Cantina was adjacent to the Atrium and contained a half-moon bar as well as several comfortable private booths, and you sidled onto one of the stools at the center of the console, directly in front of the bartender, a distinguished-looking Bothan who eyed you dubiously.

“Anything I can get for you, kid?” He asked gruffly, polishing a glass and looking you up and down, feeling you out. Although you had lounged with friends at the Atrium, even attended a few workplace parties there, you’d never really been a patron of the bar, and you felt the clientele ogling you suspiciously. It obviously wasn’t an ordinary occurrence, to see a scantily clad young woman sitting alone at a high-class bar, and the various eyes on you made your skin crawl, although you did your best to ignore the unwanted attention.

“Just a Jedi Mind Trick, please. Make it a double” You replied softly, keeping your eyes down, tracing your fingernail against the wood grain of the bar. You heard the Bothan snort, probably amused at your choice of such a strong drink right off the bat, doubting you could hold your liquor. The way you saw it, though, you’d rather spend the rest of the evening getting shit-faced here than simply slinking off home alone, to wallow in bed self-despairingly.

The bartender had just set the triangular container full of bright blue liquid on the counter in front of you when a door you hadn’t noticed on the far side of the room slid open, and a figure stepped out. A hush immediately fell over the room, which had previously been filled with glasses clinking, quiet conversation and laughter, and a holographic jizz band being broadcast. You didn’t bother to look over at first, too absorbed in your own self-pity to care, picking up the glass and knocking the entire drink back in one gulp, leaving the edges of your mind slightly blurred.

That’s when you heard the spurs.

Kshnk. Kshnk. Kshnk.

At first you assumed it was solely a figment of your imagination, an effect of the alcohol being absorbed into your system, until you realized that the room had gone silent, that even the hologram of the band had ceased playing. You looked up at the bartender, but he was staring over the top of your head, paused in the act of refilling another guest’s stein. The jangling sound filled your ears until you could hear nothing else, not even the sound of your own breathing, and a chill went down your spine. You were clenching your empty cup so tight that you were surprised it didn’t shatter in your hand. Gingerly, you turned around to acknowledge the cantina’s newest arrival, your stomach rolling with anticipation, your blood singing in your veins, your heart pounding like a gigantic drum sitting in your chest cavity. You looked up.

And there he was.

Boba Fett.

He was shorter than you expected.

You felt a near-hysterical giggle rise in your throat as the realization crossed your mind, that this was your very first thought upon seeing the man you’d envisioned fucking you time and time again - in person, finally. The laughter died in your throat as he turned to cross the room, only several meters away from you, and you got your first real look at him.

Stars, he was beautiful .

Boba Fett walked slowly, methodically, with more purpose than you had ever seen another creature move, even though it seemed his only motive at the moment was to find a place to sit down. The dented helmet that concealed his features didn’t break its steady gaze straight ahead even once as Fett crossed the room, even though every eye in the cantina was locked to him. There was no way the man didn’t know that he was currently the center of attention, the reason for the palatable silence in the air, and it was quite obvious that he didn’t care one parsec. The green armor he wore was littered with scrapes and scars and dents, but still shone in the low light of the bar, as if it had only just been waxed, and you shivered at the thought of getting to press your bare chest against the battle-flecked breastplate. A ragged cape was tossed over one shoulder, and your eyes were drawn to the string of inexplicable numbers glowing out from an interface on the right-hand side of his armor, and to the strange symbol mirroring its position, a stalk of grain framed by a bright red drop of blood and what looked to be lettering in a language you didn’t recognize, directly above his heart. There were several long braids of multi-colored and variously textured hair thrown over the opposite side of his shoulder plate, the sight of which sent another delicious chill up your spine. You knew you should be repulsed by the sight of those trophies of war alone, but it served as a confirmation of something you already knew - this man was dangerous . There was debate on the HoloNet as to the origin of those braids - some who’d been following Fett’s career, as you did, were adamant that they were made of the scalps of Wookiees he’d killed; yet others claimed they were the braids of Jedi Padawans he’d hunted down at the request of Lord Vader himself. Your eyes flitted downwards to below his waist, heat flushing through your system. The greenish codpiece was just as battered as the rest of the armor - even more so, upon a closer look. Judging by the craggy yet shallow indentation located almost in the dead-center of it, some unfortunate soul had made a last ditch effort to save themselves by taking a shot at what they must have thought was the most vulnerable area on Fett’s body. They had obviously been wrong, and you were grateful for it.

Almost seeming to move in slow motion, the bounty hunter passed directly by the bar, and you could have sworn you could sense his body heat even from several meters away, could smell blaster smoke and blood on him. As repulsive as those scents should have been, reminiscent of battlefields and death and suffering, you felt almost soothed by the thought of being able to press your face to the rough cloth that held the Mandalorian armor together, breathe in those aromas as deeply as you wished, a smell that was so distinctly him . You focused your gaze on Boba Fett once more just in time to see him settle himself at a raised table in the corner, reclining back casually. He seemed to finally notice that all other movement and conversation in the cantina had ceased upon his arrival, and his helmet swiveled first to the left, then to the right, making direct eye contact with several goggling patrons, who uneasily turned away under his gaze. Fett’s visor then turned in your direction and your heart walloped frantically in your chest - ‘ has he noticed me?’ - but it became obvious quite quickly that he was looking past you, straight at the Bothan behind the bar, who regarded Fett for a long moment before offering him a grudging nod. Almost as if this were some sort of cue, the holographic band started up again with a lively rendition of ‘Sugaan Essena,’ and the muttered discussions, tinkling of glasses, and laughter resumed. The clients of the Paradise Atrium and Cantina seemed eager to forget that the deadliest bounty hunter in the known galaxy was seated in their midst. Fett, however, had cast his gaze to the city outside, watching the rows of traffic track across the nighttime sky, gloved hands resting firmly on his knees, deep in thought.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as three young Zabrak women wearing matching skin-tight baffleweave bodysuits made a beeline for Fett’s table as soon as the atmosphere had settled down, obviously over-eager for their chance to flirt with danger. You sniggered when the armored figure sent them away with a wave of his hand before they even had a chance to close in on him, watched them turn tail with their heads down almost as quickly as they had first come. You tried to ignore the coiling pit of unease in your belly as you considered moving forward with your plan, despite the fact that it seemed for all intents and purposes that Fett did not want to be bothered. You continued to watch the man as his attention was drawn back to the outside world. ‘ Oh, hell. You only live once, right? What’s the worst that could happen, he tells you to kark off?’

“Hey… would you send a drink over to that table in the corner? Whatever he usually orders when he comes here.” You waved the bartender over, pointing a thumb over your shoulder at Boba Fett, jerking your chin in his direction as well for emphasis. You were trying to play it cool, sending a drink to the table of one of the most bloodthirsty men in the galaxy, but you were sure that the bartender could see your hand shaking as you made the request. The tall Bothan looked at you as if you had asked him for a diamond-encrusted barrel of Coruscanti bitters, straight from the Emperor’s private reserve.

“...You sure about that, kid? You do know who that is, right? Boba Fett’s one tough customer. You’d be better off not messing around with that barve.” He leaned down towards you, warning you off as if you were a child, trying to play with the older kids who would only include you in their games if it meant beating you within an inch of your life. You nodded, looking back with what you hoped was a steely determination.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

The Bothan looked at you for a moment with great pity, as if he were gazing upon a creature that had just consigned itself to its doom. Heaving a sigh that quivered the fur lining his muzzle, the bartender turned and started preparing another drink.

You couldn’t even look as the liquor was brought across the room by one of the ornate serving droids that wandered the cantina. You kept your head low, jiggling one leg on the stool beneath you, digging your fingernails into the glossy wood that encompassed the top of the bar. The minutes seemed to tick by excruciatingly, and you were overcome by the notion that maybe you should leave, get up and bolt when you still could, escape before Fett was aware of what fool had sent him the drink, go home to bed and forget any of this had ever happened. But too late - just as you were beginning to shift in your seat, to lean in the direction of the doorway and gather up the momentum to run, the bartender cleared his throat, causing your head to pop up at the sudden noise. The Bothan looked you in the eyes and did nothing but give you a subtle bob of his head, watching a point across the room. You followed his eyes, and stopped dead in your tracks.

Boba Fett was staring at you.

Openly leering at you was a better term for it, his entire body turned in your direction, lazily slumped in his seat, his legs spread comfortably wide. Kriff, this was just like your daydream. As soon as he was sure that he had your attention, and as if he had read your mind, one hand rose from its spot resting against the ample meat of his thigh, and two deft fingers hidden under an off-white glove of bantha leather beckoned you closer with a quick curling motion. It was an action that whispered, ‘ Come hither, my dear. Let’s play.’

Your stomach lurched and your vision suddenly filled with black spots, and you bit down hard on your lower lip, the quick pain bringing you back from the brink of passing out. Your eyes refocused, the dark points fading away, and there he still sat, his position unchanged. He was waiting for you to come over. You looked back at the bartender for guidance - by now you were sure he had seen this song and dance played out here many times before - and the Bothan gave you a roll of his deep-set dark eyes, and a noncommittal shrug. He’d already written you off as another casualty, the sad result of human naïveté in the face of the galaxy’s bloodthirstiness.

You rose from your stool on legs that felt as if they were made of bacta, your feet seeming to glide across the floor of the Atrium, bringing you ever closer to Boba Fett. The cantina patrons seemed to part like a sea for you, and you didn’t give a womp rat’s ass if they were staring, whispering about you. Your eyes and thoughts belonged only to the helmeted man who had beckoned you closer, and whose parted legs you were standing almost directly between when your long walk ended. You were so close that you could see yourself reflected in his blackened visor, dumbfounded. You were visibly trembling, and you could feel Fett’s body heat rolling off him, soaking into your own legs as you stood before him. It took you a moment to comprehend that he was waiting for you to speak, for you to make the first move.

“...You’re here for Han Solo, aren’t you? Everyone knows you two have a rivalry and that you’ve been after him for ages now, and he’s here, and you’re here, and that can’t be a coincidence, right? It’s like -” The words rushed from your mouth in an excited torrent, and you were fully aware that you were babbling at him, but you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. Every nerve-ending in your body felt sparked with the fire of a planet’s core, you were absolutely thrumming, and you didn’t care whether you sounded like an idiot in front of this man who you’d lusted after for ages, just as long as you were talking to him, that you had his attention. Mercifully, Fett’s palm came up, the same move he had used on the Zabraks earlier in the night. You stopped mid-sentence, your mouth still hanging upon, your eyes wide.

“I’m here on business. What exactly that pertains to is none of your concern.” The reply was smooth and unhurried, and he didn’t even look at you. Boba Fett seemed much more concerned with what was going on outside the Atrium’s walls, his line of sight falling past you, towards the lights of the Administrator's Palace. Where Han Solo probably was, if the rumors of him being Leia Organa’s consort were true. So you were right. Even if he wouldn’t admit it in words, it was almost like the bounty hunter was showing you. At least, that’s how you chose to take it.

“...Oh. Okay. ...Fair enough, I guess.” You cautiously replied, unsure of how to proceed when he offered no further conversation, and cringed inwardly. Stars , you were truly awful at small talk, especially with handsome men. No wonder you’d never gotten laid. Fett’s helmet snapped towards you like a sharp cut with a blade, his restraint with your dallying almost nonexistent, and you felt yourself flush hotly as you realized you’d just been staring blankly at him the entire time, drinking him up just as greedily as any Hutt would look upon a dancer. There was no way he couldn’t tell your intentions, and your confidence and excitability wavered.

“So what exactly is it that you want from me, girl? I don’t have the time nor the patience to be followed around and gifted tokens at bars by starry-eyed brats. Say what you will, or I’ll have you removed from my sight. Now .”

There was ice in his voice, and you found yourself slightly afraid for the first time. The idea of Boba Fett growing angry with you was not something you wanted to experience. You had to say your piece now, or risk losing what you wanted forever. You balled your fists so hard that you were sure your nails were cutting through the skin of your palms, but you stood your ground. You weren’t going to let Fett intimidate you away from what you wanted of him, not now. You were too close.

So you told him, blunt and straight to the point.

“I’ve never been fucked. I want you to be my first.”

Fett’s form stiffened in his seat, the gloved hand that had been nonchalantly resting on his thigh almost imperceptibly gripping the hard muscle beneath. You didn’t notice, nor were you able to sense the fact that he was holding his breath.

Despite the extraordinary self-control Boba Fett had cultivated over every aspect of his functions during his decades of bounty hunting, he felt his cock twitch involuntarily within the confines of his flight pants. He’d encountered plenty of cyar’tomade across the galaxy over the years, desperate creatures of all types looking to spend a night in his company just for the later bragging rights, others looking to fulfill some sort of bizarre erotic fantasy - he’d taken up plenty of those offers, and turned down even more. Boba Fett was a man who enjoyed sex, and he made no secret of the fact that he had been scoping the lounge for a prospective bedpartner after the meeting with Lieutenant Sheckil and his graysuits. That wretched smuggler Solo had a date with a carbonite chamber tomorrow evening after he and Vader’s planned ambush at the Administrator’s Palace in the morning, and Fett fully intended to vent some excess energy tonight before finally collecting on the barve’s hefty bounty. It was back to Jabba’s afterwards, and more bounties to collect on, and even less downtime. Fett enjoyed his life of solitude, practically thrived on it, but still… he was only human, and he had his needs.

What he hadn’t expected was being cornered and propositioned by a willing and eager virgin. And such a pretty thing, too. This was a first, and he had to admit he was already getting hard at the thought of teaching this naïf how to please a man, to be the one to take her like nobody had before, to show her just who exactly she was dealing with.

“ Well … aren’t you a bold one.” He finally exhaled, still avoiding any semblance of eye contact with you, his focus seeming to be on stirring the cubes around his drink. You swallowed thickly, watching Fett’s index finger push the straw back and forth. He hadn’t touched the drink at all, but you didn’t care. You wanted that finger in your mouth, down your throat, glove and all, but shook yourself from the daydream when it occurred to you that Fett was watching, waiting for a response.

“I’ve found that fortune favors the bold.” You pushed yourself into the chair opposite him, trying to conceal how badly your legs were wobbling. You had waded chest-deep into completely unknown territory, and you felt as if you were going to faint at any moment if you didn’t take a seat. To emphasize your point, you reached out and grasped the drink you had sent to his table just minutes ago, tipping your head back and draining half of it in one swig. Your head swimming from the sudden rush of hard liquor, you settled the container back on the polished wood and steadied your gaze on the bounty hunter. Fett cocked his helmet at you, an amused snort emanating from underneath, a static edge to it thanks to the vocoder that helped conceal his voice. He laid his forearms on the table, leaning his upper body forward towards you, the posture of a gossiping schoolboy, mocking and insolent.

“And what makes you think I’d want to be the one to break you in, vaar’ika ?”

He almost purred the question, sickly sweet. There was no outright malice there, no, but he was teasing you; you could hear the laughter in his voice. You could tell he thought you were nothing but a stupid little girl who didn’t know what she was getting herself into, and it shamed you into silence. You felt your throat tightening, your eyes starting to burn, and you begged yourself, ‘ Don’t you dare start crying and prove him right. You know what you came here for. Don’t you dare. ’ But it was much easier said than done, and your attempt to coax yourself out of this panic only seemed to deepen it. You came this close to fulfilling your fantasy, you could have practically reached out and touched it, but it all had to fall to pieces because you were really nothing but a blubbering baby. You weren’t worthy of being with Boba Fett, and it had been a pipedream to think so even for a moment.

“I… I-I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking , coming here. I’ve made an ass of myself and I’ve completely wasted your time, I’m so sorry -”

Your eyes brimming with embarrassed tears, hot and heavy on your lashes and threatening to spill over at any moment, you ducked your head and pushed the chair out as quickly as you could, moving to brush past the still-seated bounty hunter and make a break for it out into the cool night air. With a harsh gasp, you felt yourself suddenly being jerked back by the elbow, almost stumbling with the force of the pull. Boba Fett’s gauntleted hand was gripping your arm in an iron hold, the black void of his visor locked onto your face. There was no way to tell, of course, and you couldn’t say how you knew, but you could have sworn he was smiling at you.

“ I didn’t say no , little one . Tell me again what you want of me.” Fett intoned evenly, but not unkindly, releasing his hold on you. To your shock, he ran his hand down your arm as he let you go, and it almost felt - of all things - reassuring . Arousal pooled to your core so quickly at Fett’s surprisingly soft touch and tone that it took you a few extra moments to even register what he had said.

‘He didn’t say no. It wasn’t possible. Does he actually want to? ...And he called me ‘little one.’

You could have died then and there, on the plush carpeted floor of the Paradise Atrium, but your words found you, every ounce of courage in your frame flooding through your veins at once.

“Take me back to your ship. Let me give myself to you. I want to be yours tonight… only yours. Please .” You laid a trembling hand on his wrist, still expecting to be violently brushed away, told to back off and go home if you knew what was good for you, threatened with disintegration or a blaster shot to the chest or something . But the harsh gesture or violent threat never came. The scarred green helmet tilted downwards to regard your fingers clutching at the armor, and after a quiet beat, Boba Fett’s gaze returned yours. Although you couldn’t see the eyes hidden behind that dark, T-shaped visor, you could feel them burrowing into your very soul, sweeping over you greedily, like a prize to be taken. Shivers rippled up your arms and your stomach rolled, but you weren’t afraid. Not anymore. Silently, you withdrew your fingers, letting your hands fall limply to your sides, and Fett nodded, seemingly satisfied with your plea.

“As you wish, nehutyc’ika. Come, then.” With that, Boba Fett stood in one swift motion, and held one palm out for you to take, open and inviting.

You felt as if you’d been kicked in the chest. You were instantly sober, any trace of alcohol from the night’s earlier wallowing fully flushed from your system by the influx of adrenaline currently screaming through your body. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and for a brief moment you wondered if he was playing with you, if this were some sort of sick joke, but you knew in the deepest recess of your heart that it wasn’t. He was serious. He’d made a career out of not backing down on deals. Boba Fett was a man of his word.

So you took his hand and let yourself be spirited away into the night by a figure from your best daydreams, and from other creatures’ worst nightmares.

#boba fett #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x reader

32 notes · View notes

yolkyeomie · 4 years ago

Text

[blurb] — member: minho, word count: 2489, genre: e2l-esque/rockband au/female!reader/angst(?), warning: none.

note: this is a wildly out of character verison of minho so none of this is probably accurate to his actual personality. I was just tired one hand and this is how I saved myself

[11:30 pm]: “Lee Minho!” You growled. Despite the bustling energy of the dressing room before you had entered, your voice boomed over every single person within the walls limits. Those who were speaking quickly closed their mouths and others who were walking in and out slowed their hasty pace to a creeping stalk. Their eyes turned from each other to you as you stood in the doorway, hand clenched tightly around the door knob in an attempt to keep yourself calm.

Everyone could tell just by taking one glance at you that you were not here to play around as usual. The energy you exude was far too intense for anyone to even crack a smile at you. “Where is he?” You demanded, glancing around the room for the sly cat. “Where is Minho?”

“Here,” a cheery voice informed, nearly giving yourself whiplash as you turned around. There he stood right behind you, his signature black bass guitar slung over his shoulders and his mocking smile plastered against his face. Behind him stood his bandmates nervously glancing between the two of you, unsure of what exactly was going to happen next.

This scenario was something they had seen countless times before yet they still would never get used to the sight of you breathing smoke out of your nose and Minho only looking down on you with endearment. Your anger was entertaining to him, no matter how many times the out of you spat with each other.

“What? Is there something wrong?” He asked, his statement covering for his blatant ignorance, “did you not like the concert? But you had the best seat in the house?”

His condescending words easily began to fan the flame, eagerly watching as your face flickered from a look of pure bewilderment to complete wrath.

You knew Minho was doing this on purpose, yet you couldn’t resist the urge to explode. “Was there something wrong?” You questioned him, reaching out and grabbing the sterling silver chain that hung down his neck. Gasps fluttered throughout the room at your threatening demeanor as you spoke, “You really have the audacity to be asking that right now?”

“Hey, not here,” Changbin interrupted, “Not while everyone is watching. Don’t want a video of your fight to get leaked, do you?” He used his drumsticks to separate the two of you from each other, providing himself as the unprompted middle ground as he gestured toward the staff in the room.

Usually he would be all for watching you rip into Minho without a second thought, but there were too many people around to let it go unchecked. As much as he believed that the bassist deserved every inch of karma that was going to hit him, it couldn’t happen in public. They had a reputation to uphold after all.

The two of you looked around the room for yourselves, taking note of how the entire backstage room was crawling with staff members from the concert the group had held. As much as you wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you would rather not be labeled as the crazy person that barged in and caused a fight.

Begrudgingly you stepped back and away from Minho, just enough for it not to look like you weren’t going to attack him like some rabid animal. “Fine, I won’t.”

“Take it outside, somewhere private would be ideal,” Bang Chan added, whispering as lowly as possible so that any of the more... invading staff couldn’t catch him. “Oh, and don’t do anything stupid? Please? I kinda need Minho alive.”

“You heard the man,” The boy taunted, gesturing back to the band’s leader. “He needs me alive, so keep your hands to yourself this time.”

You didn’t think you could roll your eyes as hard as you did, forcing your hands to your side so that you didn’t actually harm him. The whispers and murmurs only continued to go as you led Minho outside of the dressing room, their voices drifting to your ears despite their attempts to conceal them.

“Is she some crazy fan?” “No, I heard she knows the boys personally.”

“Should we call security? What if she actually harms him!”

“I wonder what Minho did for her to act that way? Honestly, I couldn’t blame her… he’s a little patronizing and stuck up in my opinion…”

You shook off their words as the two of you walked down the corridor of the dressing rooms in silence, a stark contrast to the other staff members who were running about the halls to clean up the aftermath of the band’s concert. Every so often someone would stop to greet the two of you and ask what was going on, the sheer intensity of your auras combined quickly made them back off.

You were always the more approachable of the two but this wasn’t the right time for any of that to happen.

Soon the crowd began to thin out and for the most part, the two of you were left completely alone. The corridor you had turned down was practically a dead end so it was the perfect place for you to antagonize the bassist without running away.

“You said you’d help me with Hyunjin, to get back together with him,” you began, turning your sharp and annoyed gaze on him once again. “You said you’d get me tickets to your concert because I mentioned he was a fan of the band, so what was with that stunt you pulled on stage at the end?”

“I don’t think I understand?” The boy questioned, leaning up against the wall as he continued to feign ignorance like he had done in the dressing room with the staff. “I did exactly what you asked me to. I got you tickets, I got you the best seats in the house, I even got the other members to put his favorite song on the set list for this concert? What could have possibly gone wrong?”

“That song!” You exclaimed, “that dumb song you had created on your own but never released it for the band to play because it was about me. You played it right before the concert ended as the encore. Are you insane, seriously?”

Minho snorted at your frustration, clearly not taking the situation as serious as you were. “Are you serious? You’re mad because I played that love song without telling you? Come on Y/N, you really think he was able to tell that it was about you?”

You scoffed, almost laughing at his answer. A love song? You wouldn’t exactly label the song as a “love song”. “I understand you don’t think very highly of Hyunjin, but he knew Minho. There was no way he wouldn’t have been able to tell.”

It was so clear that Minho knew exactly what he was doing when he was on stage. As the band got ready to play their original encore song, you had caught him skipping around to stage to each member of the band. Starting discreetly with Changbin since he was the drummer in the background all the way to whispering to the lead guitarist, Jisung, near the front of the stage.

Once his words had finally reached the ears of Bang Chan, the leader gave a skeptical glance before his eyes connected to your curious one’s. He hesitated for a moment before putting on a strained smile and speaking into the microphone.

There’s been a slight change of plans in the encore, Bang Chan had announced. The entire crowd let out a wave of confusion as his dimples distracted their fans from his clear distress. I mean, who doesn’t like an unreleased song as the ending note?

The crowd let out a cheer for the change, not bothered one bit by the band switching gears to do something off script. Even Hyunjin was excited to hear the song that even he hadn’t known existed. Though both his wide smile quickly fell once the song began to play, its piercing and strong melody rang through the stadium as Minho strummed his guitar.

Minho had the most lines out of the other members of the band in that song, which was a stark contrast to his usual in the background singing. The boy was standing front and center, hands no longer glued to his guitar but clutching onto the microphone that stood before him. His voice boomed over the speakers as he sang to the crowd, yet his attention wasn’t on his adoring fans that were calling his name.

No, his attention was on you.

Minho’s eyes almost never left your figure as he zeroed you out in the crowd, his prideful smile growing on his lips as he poured his soul into the lyrics he never thought he’d sing in person. It was like he was sending a signal to you and Hyunjin, that the bond that you were trying to rekindle between the two of you would never work out in the end.

You’re mine, Minho’s lyrics conveyed, a meaning only you and Hyunjin could decipher, and I’ll never let you go to him.

“You can’t keep… you can’t keep doing this,” you struggled to convince him (or maybe you were trying to convince yourself?). “You can’t keep trying to interfere with my relationships! I’m my own person, Minho, I like other people! You can’t keep going on like this.”

“I can’t keep going on like this?” He repeated, in shock that you would even have the audacity to say that to him. Minho pushed himself off the wall as he approached you, his stereotypical vile temperament that his staff deemed him as showing through his usual cool head. “I’m not the one who keeps running back to the same person whose heart I broke every time we have a fight!”

Ouch, what a low blow. But it wasn’t like Minho was… lying? As much as you wanted to deny it, every time the two of you got into it you’d go running to Hyunjin afterward.

You needed something different from the constant fire and ice of you and the bassist's quarrels and that was exactly what Hyunjin was. He wasn’t the sheer cold of the winter storm like Minho was, just a pleasant breeze along a hot summer day. That’s why you were so drawn to him at first, that’s why you had jumped head first into a relationship with him, and that’s why you couldn’t exactly let go of him after you had broken up.

So despite Hyunjin being the better of the two, why was it that you only ran to him for comfort? As soon as he had given you what you desired you were back to trailing behind the band’s footsteps. You were back to walking and fighting with Minho.

“Do you really like him?” Minho asked, his tone a little harsher than he planned. Though he didn’t apologize for the attitude as he continued to speak, “Do you really want to be with Hyunjin again or is this an excuse to keep playing with me?”

“It’s…,” you hesitated, why must he ask this up now of all times? “It’s complicated, Minho! Not only that but it’s none of your business to pry into my relationship with Hyunjin? You’ve already done enough damage—”

“Y/N, tell me before I figure it out in a way you aren’t going to like,” he blurted out, finally snagging the words out of your mouth for good. What did he just say? “Do you really still like Hyunjin? Or are you just using him at this point, because it really feels like the latter when you keep hanging around me and not him.”

You stared back at him wide eyed, struggling to form sentences in your head and deciding to spit out whatever you could. “What are you talking about? You mean like use him to make you jealous of something? That’s petty, Minho, I—“

“One,” he began, reaching for the guitar strap on his shoulders to discard the instrument.

“How I feel about Hyunjin is none of your business,” you tried to argue. “See you’re even doing it again! Trying to force your way through when things don’t go your way. I’m supposed to be the one who is asking for answers anyway!”

“Two,” Minho continued, ignoring your rambling as he dropped the bass onto the ground without care.

“Fine, I like him. I’m in love with Hyunjin, are you happy now?” You answer, though the words feel foreign on your tongue as you bite at him. “This fights and bickering we do mean nothing to me, your stupid encore song meant absolutely nothing to me. So stop trying to press forward already.”

Minho stood in front of you quietly, his face contorting in disapproval as he tried to process your answer. “You’re so good at fighting with me but you’re so bad at lying.” He shook his head, amused disbelief donning his face as he took a hold of your shirt collar in the same motion you took his chain necklace. “Three.”

“Why are you intent on this, hm? You don’t like being the one who is toyed with instead of the other way around?” You hissed, snatching his hand off of your shirt with as much strength as you could muster. “All you do is take, take, and humiliate. Get a grip, Minho.”

The boy hesitated for a moment, hovering just inches above your face and his eyes darting around the room. He should have known that you still would have the energy to argue with him, that never ending flame in your chest that kept lighting the cigarette of your relationship.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called, making you and Minho glance over your shoulder and down the corridor to spot a figure at the foot of it. You immediately recognized it to be the Hyunjin, the fool peering down curiously and a sheepish smile stretching across his face when he finally saw you. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I knew you were backstage. I just didn’t know how long you’d be here for. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, of course,” you respond, your tone immediately going soft as you shoved Minho off of you. The way you spoke to Minho and Hyunjin respectively was so different from each other, one would think that you were two separate people. “Just give me one moment?”

The boy nodded, giving an awkward wave toward Minho given the fact that the last time the two had interacted was the situation during the encore. Though the bassist gave no response as you turned back to him, your original rage replenished as you finally addressed him for the last time. “Don’t ever sing that song again. Not around me, not around your bandmates, not around your fans, no one. I want every bit of its existence erased from my memory.”

56 notes · View notes

girlmeetsliv3 · 5 years ago

Text

Lilies of the Valley IX

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

“A flower is beautiful in every state of life. I, however, find that it is most beautiful right before it blooms.”

Release Date: 06/15/20 @ 7 pm

previously ~ next

Her bout lasted a couple of days. YN could barely eat or sleep without fearing that the raging alpha would come after her, that her family didn’t want her anymore, that her mates were just dragging her along. These worries echoed loudly around her head, so loudly YN felt her ears ringing, but on the outside, she remained stoic. Emotionless. It worried her mates, but in her state of turmoil, she had begun to rely more on them. More than she was comfortable with, but it felt nice to be cared for - to be nurtured. They were in the living room some superhero movie playing on-screen, as they all lay on the floor. There were couches, but there wasn’t enough space for all eight of them - so the floor it was. The men, notably the alphas, had remained riled and their scent created a thick layer in the room. YN knew she shouldn’t enjoy it, but it was warm and soothed the negative thoughts in her head.

“Are you comfortable?” Taehyung looked up at her from her lap where his head was resting. They had become a lot more touchy as of late, but YN was starting to resign herself to the idea that this is what her life would be. She offered him a small smile, but from the way, his eyebrow arched YN knew Taehyung was unconvinced. His hand reached up, caressing her cheek gently. The tip of his fingers brushed her lips and YN couldn’t tell if it had been accidental or not. “You’ll have to organize my room next,” Taehyung spoke, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Ah, that.

Rosé had come to visit YN the day after everything happened to distract her when YN suddenly had the urge to rearrange her room. She couldn't describe it, but it had started when her eyes landed on her dresser and YN realized its position felt off. Once that had been fixed she didn't like the way her bed area seemed too crowded. Eventually, the whole room had been moved around and YN was even considering painting it when Jungkook had walked in looking rather perplexed. Rosé had laughed and simply muttered, "She's nesting." It hadn't ended there though as the dining room, office, and living room all had their layouts changed. None of them complained and she had an inkling they secretly enjoyed it. It meant she was becoming comfortable, starting to feel at home.

“Hyung, pay attention,” Jungkook complained, his eyes darting between the two of them before focusing back on the screen.

Taehyung rolled his eyes but did as told. YN's eyes drifted toward the clock on the wall, it was nearly midnight, though she didn't feel tired at all. Jimin and Yoongi had fallen asleep with the former curled up by Hoseok and the latter sharing Namjoon with Jungkook. In the span of a few minutes, Taehyung had closed his eyes and YN knew he too would be asleep soon. All the alphas remained awake each watching the movie with varying levels of interest. Seokjin shifted behind her, his hand tangling itself in her hair and making soothing circles. "What's wrong? Aren't you tired?" YN shook her head, preferring not to answer the first question. Seokjin leaned down and pressed a kiss on her shoulder, near the bite mark, before nuzzling his nose along her neck.

He was scenting her and despite the chills that traveled up her spine, it did relax her. Causing her to lean back onto the alpha’s chest while he smiled. “Tell us what’s wrong.” It felt more like an order than a suggestion, but Seokjin’s pheromones had spiked and their sweet scent lulled YN. Made her want to get closer. Feel more of him. Open up to him.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” It was Namjoon this time, when YN turned her head she found him closer than ever. A few inches away from her face. Fear bubbled up in her stomach but was washed away as Seokjin’s plump lips trailed kisses through her jawline. He was encouraging her to speak, to be honest, and YN was like an old dam. All she needed was a small crack - a leak - and she would burst.

“Of everything. Of you.”

“Of me?” Namjoon questioned, his brow twitching ever so slightly, but he didn’t look upset.

“Of all you.”

“Why?” The lead alpha asked again. Seokjin’s kisses became quicker, sloppier, and YN became aware of another presence near her. Hoseok’s hands softly moved up and down her sides, tickling her ever so slightly. It was all becoming a bit much.

“I don’t know.”

Namjoon tsked in disappointment. “I think you do know, just won’t admit it.” His hooded eyes trailed down her features, landing on her lips before moving back up to her eyes. YN was at a loss for words, unsure of everything. Another body joined them, YN felt warm breath hit her ear before Jungkook’s calm words reached them. “You’re safe. Don’t worry you’re safe.” His tone was soft, delicate, barely above a whisper as if he was afraid of scaring her. YN analyzed every bit of Namjoon’s face: his brows, almond eyes, strong nose, and his pink full lips.

"Namjoon -" In that second, Seokjin's teeth scraped against her scent gland - against her bite mark - and YN couldn't stop the moan that tore through her lips. Reacting instinctively Namjoon closed the distance between them, his lips brushing hers in a passionate fervor. They were anxious, desperate as if he had been waiting forever. As if he was afraid she would disappear soon. The second his lips touched hers YN melted. A warm fuzzy feeling overtaking her and she felt complete. As their kiss continued YN began to wonder if this was what the bond felt like. If this is how the other's felt around each other. Surely it must be it. It feels like a warm hug, soft pillows, the crackling of a fire. It would be gone soon but it felt nice to have experienced it.

When they finally parted YN felt content, which was unusual in the presence of the men, she expected Namjoon to feel the same. But when she glanced up at his eyes she saw something different. His pupils were extremely dilated and there was something animalistic about how Namjoon stared at her. He looked as if he had just taken a bite out the forbidden fruit and wanted more.

She hadn’t reorganized Taehyung’s room much to the betas displeasure, but YN had spent the entire lounging next to the pool. She wasn’t planning on going swimming, but still laid under the sun with a blue dress covering her shoulders. YN had always preferred being alone, even before presenting she had been pretty introverted, it simply became worse after. The scent of lilies hit her nose and YN subconsciously smiled, she had always enjoyed flowers for they represented a simpler time for her. Her school had a garden filled with lilies and the various flowers had been so beautiful to her. Having them planted in the backyard was a nice touch, but she couldn’t figure out the significance of them to the men. Why lilies? Her mind briefly wandered towards what the tattoo artist had said: that she smelled like lilies. Jungkook had even encouraged a lily tattoo but it couldn’t possibly be because of her that they’d planted those.

YN shook her. That’d be ridiculous. She closed her eyes, enjoying how the sun felt on her skin before a dark shadow blocked it. “Mind if we join?” Jimin stood in front, Yoongi by his side, and YN heard a big splash before seeing Taehyung emerge from the pool. “Sure.” Jimin smiled before scooping down and pecking her lips. It shocked her, to say the least, but Jimin simply chuckled before joining Taehyung in the pool. Yoongi took a seat next to her, his lounge chair barely a feet away, but YN was grateful that he simply laid down and closed his eyes. It gave her time to think.

There had been a shift between them since the incident, but YN assumed that it was mainly them being overprotective. After last night’s kiss, and subsequently Jimin’s kiss, she wasn’t so sure anymore. It was true that without another alpha willing to mate YN was stuck with them and the longer she spent with them, the less bothered she was by it. What did concern her was how giddy they were. This morning YN had been dragged out by Jungkook to have breakfast with all of them and they all seemed excited. It gave her whiplash and YN didn’t know if she wanted the relationship to progress at such a rapid rate. Her hand flew up to massage her temples as she felt a growing headache.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi was leaning over now, a concerned look on his face. “Nothing,” YN replied, though her delivery may have been a bit harsh. Instead of flinching or becoming upset Yoongi reached massaging her neck before kissing her forehead tentatively. “There. All better.” YN wanted to ask Yoongi what was going on but was interrupted by Hoseok coming out of the house. Namjoon trailing behind him.

“Ready to go?” YN briefly wondered what he meant before remembering what Namjoon had mentioned during breakfast. “I rescheduled the doctor’s appointment for this afternoon. It’ll be a little late because we have to get some work done.” YN excused herself from the beta’s not missing the way they pouted.

“Lily wait!” YN skidded to a stop to see Taehyung running at her at full speed, the droplets of water glistening as they fell oof his body. Once he reached her, YN expected Taehyung to kiss her the way Jimin had, but instead, he kissed her bite mark. Laughing at her expression before salaciously winking. The others only chuckled at him before Jimin called him back to the pool claiming he was lonely. YN walked back towards Namjoon and Hoseok finding pleased expressions on both their faces. She took a deep breath before sighing loudly.

“C’mon YN. Let’s go.”

Sorry this chapter kind of sucked, but I promise the next one will be incredibly important.

Tag List:

@hxsxxk-180294 @saxpam24 @trixsterbi @mel-gonzalez07 @cstobitk @dionysus-png @taekimxx @moonlitehunter @joonie-grim @wonderlace19 @sugashaye @rosey-roseu @mintaemark @ciderxi @soloikeadates @alex--awesome--22 @ruth619 @tinger-k @thenyousaidhello @missseoulite @justdidabadthing@ireallylikefoodandyoutube @letmebeyour-sun @lyoongx @kpopfictrash @purpuravm

626 notes · View notes

slowly-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Cheetos

Jennifer Jareau x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Requested by anon: maybe if you get a chance....... jj is obsessed with cheetos right? what about asking her out using cheetos somehow

You spend a lot of time paying attention to what makes JJ happy. Probably too much time, but that's besides the point. You’ve only needed to act on this once and what worked oddly enough, was a bag of cheetos. You found out by accident one day. You were on the plane home from a case, you’d lost a child and JJ was beating herself up over it.

“JJ, you’ve gotta eat something. I know you haven’t eaten since yesterday,” you beg but she shakes her head.

“I’m not hungry.” her response is short and you sigh, walking over to the kitchen area on the jet and grabbing the first thing you see, a bag of cheetos, and placing them on her lap.

“Now I’m not going anywhere until you eat those, so we can either sit here and stare at each other for the remainder of this 5 hour flight, or you can eat the damn chips and I’ll leave you alone,” you say firmly, planting yourself in the seat across from her. You expect her to snap, maybe even throw the bag at you, but to your surprise she smiles. It’s a small one but it’s there, and then she opens the bag and eats it all.

You stored that knowledge away for a rainy day, which seems to be happening right now. She’s been moody all day. She didn’t acknowledge any of you when she walked in, simply sitting at her desk and glaring at her paperwork. The team had been speculating all day as to what could be bothering her. Reid spit out a bunch of fats that just confused you and when Morgan mentioned her period he got smacked by both you and Emily. Emily suggested a fight with her “secret” boyfriend and everyone agreed that was probably it.

At the mention of Will you retreated into your own head. You being in love with JJ was about as much of a secret as the fact that she was in a relationship. The only difference was you knew everyone was aware of your poorly hidden crush, everyone but JJ.

Deciding you no longer wanted to talk to the team you walked over to JJ’s desk, hoping to be able to cheer her up.

“Hey, JJ. You wanna grab lunch?” you ask tentatively, hoping not to anger her more. It seems you’ve failed as her glare turns from her desk towards you.

“And why would I want to do that?” she snaps and your eyes go wide. You stumble back a few steps as if her words have hurt you, which they obviously couldn’t. At least not physically.

“Oh I….nevermind,” you trail off, locking your gaze on the floor and rushing to your desk. You’ve never been more grateful that your’s and JJ’s desks were on opposite sides of the room. With the way they were positioned and the amount of people flowing in and out from their breaks she couldn’t see you looking like a kicked puppy. Unfortunately the rest of the team could and their looks of pity only made you feel worse. You quickly open your desk drawer, setting your laptop inside and taking a bag of cheetos out. You grab your bag and make your way out of the bullpen, setting the snack on JJ’s desk while you pass it as quietly as you can. In your effort to avoid eye contact you miss the soft smile she sends after you.

xxxxx

Her anger doesn’t last long, and she does make sure to apologize to you. You brush it off, stating that everyone has bad days and you both move on. The team finally has a break in cases and with your newfound freedom have gathered for family game night. You’re all huddled into Garcia’s small living room playing a truly vicious game of monopoly. Spencer was the banker, having been banned for using statistics to win every round, but he was enjoying watching the chaos. Garcia had little to no strategy. She bought the property that matched her “aesthetic” and nothing else. Hotch silently watched and strategically bought what others needed, selling it to them for a higher price. Rossi and Morgan bought what they thought would make them the most money. You bought a few properties, but mostly just sat back and watched while the others fought it out. Emily almost always played way too aggressively and bankrupted herself buying every property she landed on. You’re pretty sure it was just to make Reid angry though, he always got frustrated and told her how it was statistically improbable that she would win like that to which she responded, “improbable. Not impossible.”

Morgan was in the lead this week with JJ in dead last. Emily had already lost, but everyone else besides falling between the two.

“Alright little mama, you're up,” the smirk on Margans face as he hands JJ the dice makes you roll your eyes. He’s ridiculously cocky, but unfortunately it’s one of the things you love about him. JJ takes a deep breath before rolling a three and landing on Morgan’s property, subsequently bankrupting her.

“Aw no! Better luck next time!” Garcia’s words would sound condescending from anyone else, but from her they sound sincere.

“Thanks Pen,” JJ says before slouching in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest.

“If it makes you feel better, you lasted longer than me,” Emily offers and JJ’s pout deepens.

“An aardvark would last longer than you,” JJ grumbles, causing everyone to laugh before turning back to the game. You nudge JJ with your elbow slyly handing her the Cheetos you’d brought when she looks your way. Her pout instantly disappears and she’s laughing, gratefully accepting the bag with a wide smile. You smile as well, feeling accomplished having cheered her up, even if it was over something silly.

xxxxx

You noticed JJ’s been a bit down lately. Not mean, not angry, just sad. She stays to herself, and when she does engage in conversation she’s quiet and closed off. Everyone has tried to talk to her about it, but she just shrugs it off as being tired or sick, but you know it’s more.

It’s just the two of you left in the bullpen, everyone else having retreated off to their Friday evening plans, or lack thereof in Reid’s case. When you look over at her she’s staring off into space and you debate asking her what’s wrong. Your internal debate leads you not to, she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to talk. You’re going to leave her be when you remember your secret weapon.

Smiling to yourself you grab a bag of Cheetos out of your desk and make your way over to her whisper her name to draw her attention.

“Oh hey, what’s up?” She asks and you send her a soft smile.

“Nothing I just…” you trail off, setting the bag on her desk. She stares at it for a moment and you go to turn away, stopping when she grabs your arm.

“Wait. I…” she trails off, searching your eyes for the answer to a question she hasn’t even asked yet. “Why?”

“Why what?” You prod gently, genuinely confused on what she means.

“Whenever I’m upset, you’re always there with Cheetos and a smile, no matter how mean I’ve been to you. Why?” She clarifies and you shrug slightly, looking to the floor to avoid eye contact.

“Oh, uh. I figured out that they’re your favorite, and it always seems to cheer you up. I just want you to be happy,” you say and she stares again.

“Why?” You roll your eyes, amused at the one word replies.

“JJ, I’m really gonna need more words from you if you want to hold a conversation,” you tease and she smiles.

“Why do you want me to be happy?” you start to answer and she cuts you off, “and don’t say it’s because we’re friends. You and I both know you don’t do this stuff for Emily or Spence. I want to know why you’re really doing this.”

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time now,” you say simply. “The rest of the team figured it out months ago, I’m surprised you hadn’t yet.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She sounds like she’s in awe, and you're shocked by the fact that she truly didn’t seem to know.

“Well, you’re with Will. As much as I want to be with you, I’d rather you be happy. If he makes you happy, then I’ll settle for being your friend who gives you Cheetos when you’re sad,” you say, with a self deprecating laugh, “as long as you’re happy.”

“How did you know that?” She asks in shock and you laugh for real.

“JJ, you’re not as sneaky as you’d like to think. We’ve all known since a week after we got back from New Orleans, but you were happy so I didn’t say anything.”

“But what about you?” You shrug.

“What about me?”

“You seem to be only concerned about my happiness. What about yours?” JJ asks, stepping closer and taking your hand. “Y/n, Will and I broke up last week. I realized it wasn’t him I liked, just the idea of him. I’m actually….in love with someone else.”

“JJ I really want you to be happy but I don’t think I can handle the emotional whiplash I’ll get if you say someone else right now. So just tell me straight up. Do I have a chance?” You ask, heart beating a mile a minute. Whatever the answer is, your relationship is about to change forever.

“Yes dummy, you have a really good chance,” she says before pulling you into a kiss. It’s everything you imagined and so much more, but it ends quickly as JJ starts giggling.

“What? What’s so funny?” you’re unable to hold back your smile at the joy on her face. Her smile is infectious, and you could stare at it for the rest of time. The next words out of her mouth have you joining in on the laughter

“I can’t believe Cheetos brought us together.”

tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

CM tag list: @reidingandwriting

#jj x reader #jj x you #jj criminal minds #jj fanfic #jj x fem!reader #jj x y/n #jj fanfiction #Jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau #Jennifer jareau x female!reader #Jennifer Jareau fanfic #Jennifer jareau reader insert #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fic #criminal minds reader #cheetos

219 notes · View notes

tra-sh · 5 years ago

Text

Paul Lahote x reader (Twilight)

Request from Anon: “Hi, could you maybe do Paul from Twilight where you're friends with the Cullens and Bella makes you meet the wolf pack and Paul imprints? Maybe gets jealous too? Female pronouns please xx"

Full disclosure, don't hate me, I've never read the books. I saw the first movie when it came out but I' a bit rusty on the characters, so I hope I did them justice!

Part 2 Here

In the eyes of the world, you were a curious thing.

Well, maybe not the world, but definitely the people around you. After all; not just anyone gets to sit with the Cullen siblings at lunch. Not just anyone can make Rosalie laugh or Edward crack a smile.

There was no doubt that in the eyes of the teenagers of Forks, you were an enigma. There was no shortage of rumors about the strange girl who had wormed her way into the exclusive clique of ethereal beauties. But as frustratingly mysterious as you appeared to be, no one could hate you. You were far too kind and trusting to attract negative attitudes. This is why when Bella made the executive decision to force the Cullen’s into the wolf pack's good graces, she brought you.

Though the Cullen’s weren't allowed in the vicinity, Bella figured that if the wolves could trust you, maybe they could begin to trust your close friends. You were extremely adept at social gatherings and made a point to introduce yourself to everyone in the room. Your general attitude is warm and inviting-- surely this meeting would go smoothly if you were there, Bella hoped.

Because of this, you found yourself sitting shotgun in Bella's truck as it rattles down the old dirt road. You stole glances at the brunette every so often, noting her tense features. "Relax, Bells," you say after a moment of silence. "I'm sure it'll all be fine."

You hadn't known her for very long, but any friend of the Cullen's was a friend of yours. The two of you really only spoke when she was at their house looking for Edward or at school. You'd made a point to try to get to know her better over the past few months, to bring her out of her shell ever so slightly.

You watch as her shoulders relax slowly, her eyes never leaving the road. "I'm more worried about Jake's friends," she mumbles. You've never met Sam Uley's gang, but you knew what they were. Or rather, Alice had explained to you what they were.

You hum quietly as you look back out the window at the passing trees. Bella veered off down a slightly overgrown path that barely passed as a road, save for a worn trail of tire marks in the weeds. A wooden house came into view and you could just barely see the glow of a bonfire flickering from the backyard.

You smile to yourself as the truck comes to a halt a few yards away. Bella turns to unbuckle her seatbelt and gives you an anxious smile. "Here's to a good night," she says hopefully. You give her a reassuring grin before turning to exit the vehicle. You couldn't wait to meet everyone.

You sidle up to Bella as the two of you make your way to the white front door. You take in the peeling paint of the house and garage as you walk. The house is old but gives off a cozy and inviting feeling. The surrounding pine trees almost hide it from view and make you think of a witch's cottage or something from a fairy tale.

You hear the hinges of the door squeak as a tall boy with dark hair and tanned skin greets the two of you. "Hey, you made it!" He looks between the two of you, slightly skeptical of your presence.

You smile and step forward, your hand outstretched.

"Hey, you're Jacob, right? I'm [Name]," you say politely.

Jacob seems pleased and reaches over to shake your hand. "Any friend of Bella is welcome," he says after looking you up and down. He turns away and opens the door wider, allowing the two of you to step inside.

The house smells of sage and sandalwood and has numerous artifacts lining the walls. You can't help the grin that dances over your lips as you take in your surroundings. Jacob leads you and Bella through the kitchen to the back door.

"Everyone's waiting around the bonfire."

There's a twinkle in his eye when he looks at Bella, and you can't help but wonder if there was something between them at one point. No wonder Edward didn't want to come, you muse.

As you step outside into the lush backyard you're greeted by a few nonchalant 'hello's and silent nods. You're not sure if they're directed at you or Bella, but you smile all the same.

Five boys are sitting around the bonfire, not paying attention as you walk down the steps. One boy stands next to an older man outside of the circle, with two girls.

"Emily!" Bella passes by you to go greet one of the girls in question.

Jacob stands by your side and points at each member of the pack, listing them by name. "The ones sitting are Jared, Quil, Embry, Seth, and Paul," he begins. "The girl with the permanent frown is Leah, Emily's with Bella, and Sam is with my dad."

You nod as he relays the names and hope you can remember all of them. "Are they all..?" You trail off, unsure of how to ask. "Wolves?" Jacob interjects. Your face flushes lightly and you nod. "Emily isn't," he clarifies.

You suddenly feel like the odd one out all over again, the same way you felt when you'd first met the Cullen’s.

The boy standing away from the fire, Sam, makes his way over to you. You straighten your posture and try to not look too intimidated. "Hi, are you Sam?" You ask. He nods in response but doesn't make a move to shake your hand.

"Sam Uley. I assume Jacob introduced you to my pack."

Your hand falls limp at your side and you try to pluck up a friendly smile. "More or less. I've yet to actually talk to them," you joke. Sam gives you a curt nod and turns to look at the other boys. "I wanted you here tonight to make sure of something," Sam begins. He turns back to you with a firm stare, and you frown. "What's that?"

Sam exchanges a look with the boy standing next to you, and you can feel Jacob shift awkwardly under the scrutiny of the stare. "I'm not sure how much you've been told, but our ancestors and the Cullen family have a treaty," Sam states. You nod slowly. You knew the basics of the treaty; they weren't allowed to bite humans or trespass on the wolves' territory unless invited. "We wanted to ensure that treaty hasn't been broken."

You freeze and stare at the boy before you. Surely, he isn't suggesting what you think he is?

"Are you asking me if I'm still human?"

"Please understand where I'm coming from," Sam says calmly. You study him carefully, before letting out a small sigh. You should have known there was an alternative motive for this meeting.

"The Cullen’s wouldn't harm me, and I can assure you I'm still painfully normal."

Sam seems pleased with this answer and nods to you before turning around and assuming his place by the bonfire. "Sorry about that," Jacob mutters. "We just needed to be sure." You give him a reassuring smile and place your hand on his arm. "It's alright, really," you promise. The boy cracks a small grin and leads you over to the bonfire to properly introduce you to the pack.

As you approach the bonfire, one of the taller boy's scrunches his face in mock disgust.

"It smells like a leech," he says in a loud tone. The other boys snickered amongst themselves.

You roll your eyes and sit down in a lawn chair as Jacob takes the seat next to you. The boy who made the joke was smirking like the cat that ate the canary until his eyes met yours.

His snarky follow-up comment died on his tongue as he stared at you. Your brows knit together in confusion, wondering why the sudden change of heart. He looked at you like a desert traveler would an oasis. You tear your eyes away from him to look over at Jake.

"I didn't think I smelled that bad," you joke lightly.

"Paul didn't mean anything by it," one of the boys speaks up. You think this one is Seth, if you're not mistaken. Another one of them, Quil, nods in agreement. "You smell good!" You snort at his affirmation. "Thank you?" That was certainly one of the stranger compliments you've received.

Paul suddenly growls at Quil who then shies away in fear. The boys fall silent as they stare at Paul, but no one dares to speak. You look over to Jacob, who only shrugs. "So," you begin, drawing their attention once more. "What do you guys usually do around here?"

"You're looking at it," Embry pipes up, gesturing to the bonfire. You raise a brow and lean forward in your chair. "Sit around a fire and make fun of people?"

Paul seems to shrink back at your comment.

"The mocking is optional," Quil says with a smirk, jutting out his elbow to bump Paul. The taller boy sneers but makes no further comment. "What about you?" Embry asks as they turn to look at you. "I didn't take those bloodsuckers to be the nurturing type."

You purse your lips at him and he smiles apologetically. "They're nice when you get to know them," you say.

Paul scoffs, causing you to look over. "As nice as monsters can be, sure," he mutters. "Excuse me?" You ask, frowning. What was his problem? As far as you knew, the Cullen's hadn't done anything to earn such biting words. Paul avoids your gaze and crosses his arms over his chest. "I think you heard me."

His words hang in the air and poison the atmosphere, making the yard fall silent. Sam and Mr. Black are glancing your way with disapproving looks. You glance around at the other boys as they shift awkwardly in their seats.

"Right," you mumble under your breath. "I'll leave you alone."

Paul's head snaps up as you stand from the chair. He gives you a kicked puppy look, as if he wants you to stay. You're beginning to get whiplash from his changing moods.

You turn away from the bonfire and make your way over to where Bella and Emily stand, next to the back door of the house. "What did you do to Paul?" Bella asks, brows knit together. You let out a huff and fold your arms over your chest. "I didn't do anything," you say defensively. "He was being rude, so I left. I'm not going to stick around and listen to someone insult me." Emily gives you a knowing smile and peers over your shoulder at the bonfire. "You know what they say about little boys who pull pigtails," Emily begins. "It means they like you."

You're about to attest her suggestion when you feel a warm hand grab your shoulder. You look over to see Quil standing next to you, offering a small smile. "Hey, sorry about Paul. We really do want to get to know you better," he says. He nods politely to Bella and she gives him a small wave.

You let your arms relax and fall back to your sides as you turn towards the boy next to you. "I'm not mad, Quil. I just didn't feel like he wanted me there." Quil gives you a tight-lipped smile and glances nervously over his shoulder. "Well, that's the thing," Quil starts. "He might want you there a little too much."

Before you can ask him to explain, a familiar growl echoes through the yard. "Quil!" You feel the hand on your shoulder stiffen as you peer over at the bonfire. "Move your hand or I'll rip it off," Paul seethes.

You clench your fists and move so that you're standing in front of Quil. "What's your problem?" You ask, glaring at the angry boy before you. Paul ignores you, his eyes trained on the boy behind you. "Don't defend me," Quil hisses. "It'll make it worse!"

Paul takes a step forward and you instinctively reach back, your arm stretched across Quil's chest in a protective fashion.

Paul did not like this one bit.

His body shudders and his nostrils flare as he fights the urge to transition. Quil reaches over and grabs you before calling out: "Sam!"

Sam rushes forward, using a demanding tone to order Paul to calm down. Paul winces, but you can see his muscles rippling still as his anger keeps him teetering on the edge of shifting. Quil pulls you back toward the house with Bella and Emily close behind.

Paul bares his teeth and roars, sending a shiver down your spine. What was going on?

Quil shuts the door and turns to you. "You need to leave, now. He's not calming down." He throws nervous looks at the white door as he speaks. Bella paces the kitchen, her brown eyes flitting between you and the backyard. "He didn't, did he?" She asks.

The silence that follows is all she needs as a response. Bella looks at you with newfound shock, and you suddenly feel left out.

"He did what?" You ask. Did they know something you didn't? "What did he do?" You ask again, stepping forward.

Emily stands next to you and places her hand gently on your back, rubbing small circles. "It's hard to explain," she begins. Suddenly, Sam comes barging into the house. "Where is she?" His head whips around until he spots you. "You need to call the Cullen’s and have them pick you up from the reservation line," he demands. His tone gives you no room to argue and you fumble to get your phone from your pocket.

"What's going on?" You ask, your hands shaking. Why was no one telling you?

"The pack is keeping him at bay, but we don't have much time. Quil, make sure they get out safely," Sam instructs, ignoring your question. Bella hurries you to the front door as Quil follows.

You run to the truck and watch in shock when Quil shifts into a large dark grey wolf with brown streaks dappled in his fur. He shakes his head, his ears on high alert.

Bella slams the truck door shut, snapping you out of your trans. You shakily strap yourself in just as a splitting howl echoes through the air. You and Bella both look back at the house anxiously. Quil runs behind the truck, on the lookout for what you could only assume was Paul.

You nearly forget the phone sitting heavy in your hand as your eyes scan the passing forest. Your heart hammered in your chest as you turn to look at Bella.

"What's going on? Why is Paul so angry?" You ask quietly. You were growing sick of not knowing what was going on.

Bella glances nervously in the rear view mirror, her eyes trained on Quil. "The wolves, they have this thing called imprinting," here she pauses, trying to remember the way Jake had explained it. "It's like finding their soulmate."

You stare at the brunette, confusion written on your face. "Are you trying to tell me that a man I just met imprinted on me," you pause to gesture wildly at the woods, "And is now on a murder spree because Quil touched my shoulder?"

Bella would have laughed at your word choices if the situation were different.

"Like Emily said, it's hard to explain. Some of them handle it better than others."

You look out of the windshield and stare at the road. The sun is setting and the old truck's headlights do very little to illuminate the coarse dirt ahead of you. Before you can ask her what you're supposed to do with this sudden information, a silver wolf steps out into the road. "Bella, watch out!" You screech, fingers grasping for the handle to the right of your head. Bella slams on the break and the truck shudders to a sudden halt. Dust kicks up around the vehicle, momentarily clouding your view. Your heartbeat pulses in your ears, drowning out all other sounds. Your eyes search the road frantically, trying to spot the wolf.

"That," your throat constricts as you try to speak. "Who was that?" You're afraid to know the answer.

"Paul," Bella whispers, voice hoarse.

You see a large form dart out from behind the truck and loud snarls begin to echo from the road before you. "They're fighting!" You say, feeling panic bubble in your chest. Bella doesn't move, but instead fumbles for her phone. "I need to call Edward," she mutters. You stare back at the road as the dust blows away slowly, revealing the dueling animals. You can't sit by idly and watch as they all but destroy each other.

Your fingers tremble as you unbuckle your seatbelt, much to Bella's dismay. Before she can stop you, you're hopping down from the cab of the truck and stumbling towards the hulking wolves before you.

"Paul? Quil?" You ask, your voice betraying your fear.

As you push forward, you get a clearer view of Paul. His fur is a dazzling shade of silver and almost shines from the headlights. You would have been amazed if his teeth weren't digging into Quil's shoulder.

"Paul," you repeat, trying to sound more authoritative. This catches his attention and his head snaps up to look at you. Oh god. Well, you didn't think this through. Quil takes this chance to limp backward, giving the two of you space.

Paul's eyes are trained on you, calculating your every move. You swallow thickly and step forward, inching closer to him. "Paul?" Your voice is softer this time. His ears twitch as you approach, signaling to you that he was listening. "I'm not sure what all of this means," you continue. "But I'm not going to lie to you. I'm scared," you pause to gauge his reaction. If a wolf could frown, you were sure this is what it looked like. He looks almost upset at your confession, and you quickly backtrack.

"I think it would help if we could talk," you add.

He steps forward, and you do your best to not shrink back in fear. His nose presses against your arm and he snorts lightly. Your hand trembles as you bring it up, resting it on his head. "Good dog," you joke. Paul snorts again, giving you what you can only guess is an unamused look.

"Can we talk?" You ask gently. He seems hesitant to leave your touch, but after a moment he steps back. You glance over to Quil, who slinks away into the trees. The wolf before you shudders, and the sound of bones popping fills your ears. You cringe at the noise and look away as Paul slowly returns to his human form. Before you turn back, Paul stops you. "Give me a second," he says a bit awkwardly. He shuffles away into the woods before you can respond. Curiously, you glance over to his fleeting form before turning away with wide eyes. He was naked. Very, very naked. And you saw everything.

You try to shoo the thoughts from your head and focus on the dirt beneath your shoes. You hear soft footsteps and turn back, seeing a now-clothed Paul approaching you nervously. He scratches the back of his head as he makes his way back over to you. "Can we go somewhere private?" He asks in a low tone. You glance over at the truck sitting in the road and nod. "Sure."

You follow the boy down into the woods, stopping at a fallen tree. You note a neat pile of clothes tucked away in a little crook of the log and chuckle lightly. They must leave these around for when they phase.

Paul sits beside you, his eyes darting over to you every so often. He looks like he has so much he wants to say to you, and maybe he does. After everything you just experienced, you could use a bit of an explanation.

"I'm sorry," he mutters finally. "I didn't mean for any of that to happen." His leg bounces nervously as his eyes refuse to meet your gaze.

"I have anger problems, and I just didn't know how to handle all of this."

You nod slowly and turn to glance back up at the road. Bella's truck was still in view, and she was no doubt waiting nervously to see if you were alright.

"This is all really sudden," you say quietly.

"It usually is," Paul says, thinking back to when Sam and Embry first imprinted. He couldn't explain his feelings to you; he couldn't even explain them to himself. All it took was Quil laying a single hand on your body and all rational thought flew out the window. He just wanted-- needed-- you near him. "So, what happens now?" You ask, bringing Paul back from his thoughts. He wanted to hold you, to cradle you in his arms and kiss you. But he knew this was just the imprinting part of his brain talking. The two of you had met less than an hour ago, and he didn't want to scare you off. He settles for a brief, "Whatever you want."

You hum quietly as you stare at the leaf-covered grass beneath your feet. This definitely was sudden. But there was a sort of calming presence around Paul that pulled you in and left you wanting more. Which was ironic given his lack of control. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing-- the concept of soulmates and all. It would definitely take some time to get used to, but you didn't feel repulsed at the idea.

"We could take this slow," you offer quietly.

Paul's body language oozes relief as he finally looks over to you. "We can?" The hopeful lilt to his tone almost makes you giddy.

“Is that alright?" You wonder, looking up to meet his gaze. His warm brown eyes are captivating and he gives you a boyish grin. "More than alright," he assures you. He inches closer to you and you feel the warmth pooling off him in waves. His fingers brush yours lightly, looking for silent permission.

You lift your hand and allow him to cradle it in his large, calloused one. His touch is hot, but not uncomfortable. It warms you to your core and you can't help but lean into his side. Paul brings your hand up carefully and places a light kiss to the back of your hand. This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

But in this moment with him, you couldn't see yourself anywhere else.

#paul lahote #twilight #twilight saga #paul lahote x reader #reader insert #fanfic #twilight x reader #wolfpack #cullens #request

474 notes · View notes

the-cult-of-russo · 4 years ago

Text

Push and Pull (Part 11)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, trauma and panic attacks

----------

A few days went by that were pretty uneventful. Daphne had given her intel to Brett and she would wait to hear what he wanted her to do next. In the meantime she just took it easy. Foggy hadn't been by with the food, he'd texted her to say he and Matt had been swamped with cases but that he'd check in when he can. She idly wondered if Matt was just refusing to cook for her after their last run in out of spite but she wasn't going to cry about it. She did miss her regular talks with Foggy though but maybe it was for the best. Being attached to people only led to disappointment in one way or another down the line anyway.

But despite her respite from the masked fiend, today she needed to find him. She really hoped that with Keiran now in hospital and then on his way to jail, that her nightmares would subside and her anxiety that always seemed to be simmering would evaporate. She didn't have much luck though and she hated how this whole thing was still bothering her. She wanted to just be over it and get back to herself 100%. It was the lack of control she felt over the situation that gnawed at her. How easy he'd hurt her, how easy he'd taken her down and cut off her air supply. She'd been seconds away from death. So as much as she didn't like Matt, he was the only person she could think of that might be able to help her. She'd done her own backseat casual investigation of Matt when Foggy had come over during their friendly talks. She'd drop in a question about Matt every now and again. Foggy would answer and then steer clear of the Matt topic. But she got enough information to know what days he frequented Fogwell's gym. The same gym his father used to box in.

She had on some leggings, her black and white vans and paired them with a long sleeve black tee and a zip up hoodie. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she left her backpack and camera, not needing it for what she was hoping to do. She really had no idea how this would go. He could say no and tell her to fuck off, which honestly she was expecting. His hot and cold moods gave her whiplash but she was hoping he'd take pity on her if she was honest with him about why she needed his help. She didn't like him much and loathed sharing a vulnerable part of herself. But if anyone understood the brutality of what she went through and the guilt that plagued her, she figured it would be Matt. She had a lot of pride but she also knew when she should swallow it. In this case, she'd rather bruise her pride a little now with Matt than have it ripped to shreds if she got attacked again.

The air was chilly outside and she tugged her hoodie tighter around herself as she walked briskly to the gym. She'd never been to that gym before, or any really. She wasn't trained in fighting or super into fitness. She just kept herself okay enough to get by with her job. She didn't technically know how to fight but she could throw a punch when needed. It was her sheer stubbornness and self preservation that drove her in those moments when it came to it. Just like her attack at Mr Lee's House. But that almost went very very badly for her and she wanted to be more prepared. She really hoped it never came to it but she was taking precautions either way. She was hoping by taking back some level of control over what happened then maybe she'd be able to start sleeping again. She'd grown tired of Foggy and Brett making remarks about the circles around her eyes.

Once she got to the gym, she stood outside for a moment. She felt a flutter of nerves, knowing that she would need to be honest and open with someone she didn't like all that much. For all she knew he wasn't even here. He should be if he followed his routine but the one thing that prickled at her with Matt was his unpredictability. She pushed open the door quietly and tiptoed inside. It was empty except for the man she was looking for. He was in a vest and baggy shorts, nothing covering his eyes. She was expecting him to turn to her, his senses alerting him she was there. But he didn't. The boxing bag was a victim of the onslaught of punches Matt threw its way, grunting and panting as he did. She couldn't help but stand and watch for a moment. He was so aggressive, graceful yet savage. She found herself admiring it for a moment.

Slapping herself out of a moment of stupidity, she cleared her throat loudly. He stopped punching, his head whipping in her direction and confirming that he had been too absorbed in what he was doing to notice her.

"Daphne?" He asked breathlessly. He sounded genuinely confused but he didn't have the same bite he did the other night so she was hopeful this wouldn't be too painful for her.

"Hey," she murmured awkwardly, moving closer inside. Matt walked over to his water bottle on the bench, gulping it greedily. She watched him for a moment as she gathered the nerve to ask him what she came for. He was all sweaty and his hair was stuck up everywhere. It was slightly endearing. He looked more like a person than the Devil of Hell's Kitchen right then.

"What are you doing here?" He asked as his chest started to calm down with the heaving. Once again he didn't sound mad.

"I uh… I was kind of hoping for a favour," she grimaced. He blinked in her direction, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

"It couldn't wait?" He snorted.

"Not really. I was kind of hoping you'd train me," she blurted. There. She ripped off the bandaid, now she just had to wait for which Matt she would get and figure out how to proceed. He was silent for a moment, lifting his vest up and wiping his face with it. She wouldn't deny she took a peek at his abs. She didn't like him but she never denied he was attractive. She’d told him that the first time they'd met.

"Any reason why?" His voice was devoid of any telltale sign of how he felt so she really had no idea which version of himself he was. That made her nervous. She felt her heart flutter as she folded her arms around herself like a protective cocoon. He seemed to notice as his face softened a little.

"Your attack right?" He asked knowingly. She was grateful one of them had the balls to say it but hated that it hadn't been her. But he seemed to be amicable which was something so she decided to just press on.

"I have nightmares every night. Flashes of… Mr Lee's body and… Keiran's hands around my throat. I thought it would get better once he was caught but...its not," she muttered as her throat tightened. Matt stayed silent as he watched her but she wasn't looking at him. She was frowning at the floor.

"I felt so fucking helpless, Matt. I can throw a punch and I can take a punch. But that… I wasn't prepared. And that lack of control is fucking with me. I hope to fuck I never go through something like that again but if I do, I want to be prepared. That was the second time someone used a knife on me. I don't need to do fancy blackflips and shit, but just basic self defense. Disarming people and getting out of holds," she continued. Her voice was tense and she felt a dull ache in her chest. But she'd gotten it out now, even if he said no at least she tried. When she chanced a glance at him, he was biting his lower lip as he glared at the floor. His whole body looked tense and she started to panic he'd say no.

"Please," she insisted. She hated herself for begging him for anything but she needed this. She needed some semblance of control back in her life so she could go on as normal.

"Alright," he relented. She blinked for a moment before relief swept through her. Maybe it would be awkward but she didn't care in that moment. She smiled gratefully with a nod.

"I'll train you on one condition," he said firmly. She groaned and rolled her eyes, of course there was a condition.

"What is it?" She sighed.

"If I train you, you stop calling me Devilboy," he said seriously. An inelegant snort left her lips, she hadn't expected that to be his request.

"But it suits you," she whined playfully. His lips quirked up as he shook his head.

"That's the deal, take it or leave it," he smirked at her, outstretching one of his wrapped hands. She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly as she walked over, shaking his hand firmly.

"What about Satan spawn?" She asked cheekily and he shot her a dirty look with his unfocused eyes.

"Nope," he replied firmly.

An hour later and she was ready to tear her own hair out, or his, either really. He'd had her warming up on the punching bag to see how she fared. He'd been impressed by how hard she could hit but took great pleasure in criticising her form and how she'd cause more harm to herself with the way she did it. She got better after his advice although she still wasn’t perfect but his nitpicking was starting to chip at her sanity. She knew he was helping but he seemed to enjoy being a little asshole too much.

"Alright, let's go," he said. She furrowed her brow not sure what he was talking about but he tossed her some boxing gloves and put some on himself before he hopped up, climbing through the ropes in the ring. A sly grin crept onto her face. Sparring him would be much more fun, even if she knew she had no chance of winning. Even if he took it easy on her which she knew he would. She climbed into the ring and stretched her neck a little.

"What are we doing?" She asked. He started circling her like a shark with its prey and she found herself following suit as the adrenaline started sparking inside of her.

"Just a free for all. You need to practice on a moving target and learn to dodge," he replied carefully.

They circled each other for a moment more before she threw the first punch, she wasn't surprised when he dodged it way too easy.

"Did you forget everything I just taught you? Fix your form," he demanded. His attitude was fuelling her annoyance and she swung at him again.

"Better. Try again," he muttered. She went to punch him but instead of dodging, he blocked and then pushed her back. Not too hard but she still grunted and almost lost her balance.

"This isn't fair. You're not exactly a normal opponent," she huffed, readying herself again.

"You gonna keep trying or cry about it?" He smirked. Her jaw dropped a little and she swung out again but once again he deflected.

"I thought you said you could throw a punch," he taunted, causing her to purse her lips.

"Against a normal person. Not Daredevil," she scolded with a glare.

"I'm hearing a lot of excuses," he snorted. Her anger was starting to simmer away on the back burner. She swung at him hard but he grabbed her wrist, twisting her and spinning her away from him.

"Do better!" He barked. She threw another punch but she missed as he ducked out of the way, kicking his leg out and sweeping her own out. She landed on her back with an oof. Her chest was heaving and she didn't know if she was more annoyed with him or herself.

She jumped back up onto her feet and rolled her shoulders.

"Maybe you could take it easier on me," she bit out.

"Right. Because if you get attacked I'm sure they'll take it easy on you. No wonder Keiran took you down so easy," he sneered. A white hot rage ran through her at the words.

"Excuse me?" Her voice was deadly calm as her hands started shaking with anger. He just smirked cruelly and gave her a lazy shrug.

"Did you even try to fight back or did you just lay down and take it?" His words made her snap and she lunged at him. She threw out her right hand but as he dodged it she hit out with her left, clocking him right in the jaw. She felt exhilarated she got a hit in. She didn't have time to celebrate as he shoved her instead of hitting her back. He swung his legs out but she moved out the way just in time and she sent a kick to his torso that landed. It barely moved him but it connected.

He laughed, actually laughed and not in a mocking way. It occured to her then he'd purposely pissed her off so much to help her. She should have seen it sooner since pushing people's buttons to elicit a response was her thing. She leaned left to throw him off before quickly weaving right and landing another punch to the jaw. She groaned when his gloved fist landed on her side. It was by no means a full punch but it shocked her since he'd done nothing but deflect and dodge so far.

"You hit me," she muttered with wide eyes. He snorted and tilted his head, unfocused eyes in her direction.

"That's generally how this goes," he smirked. She shook her head with a grin of her own before throwing another punch at him. They spent some more time and he didn't hit her as many times as he could have and she didn't land as many as she wished she had, but she was getting better.

Her chest was heaving after a moment and he leaned against the ropes as he caught his own breath.

"You did good. With practice you'll get even better," he smiled. She stood up straighter and wiped her brow with her arm.

"Was that a compliment?" She snorted, cracking her neck as she walked over and took the gloves off after he did the same.

"I wouldn't go that far," he retorted with a smirk.

"What next?" She asked. She tightened her hair tie and tried to ignore the strays that had flown out during the sparring.

"I'll teach you how to get out of some holds," he stepped closer to her before walking behind her. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

"Alright, if someone comes and grabs you from behind like this..." he put his arm loosely around her neck and she straightened up a little.

"As soon as you feel the arm, you need to push your chin down," he instructed. She did as he said as he brought his other hand up and gripped the other.

"Now grab my arms with both hands and step to the side," one again she did as she was told, soaking up everything he was telling her. He tapped her left arm briefly before putting his hand back in his other.

"With this arm, you'll hit back. Aim for the groin," she raised a brow at his words but she couldn't turn her head to look at him.

"You want me to hit you in the dick now or just pretend?" She snorted. She couldn't see him but she felt a light laugh dance across her neck.

"Just pretend or get my leg right now. But if this was anyone else, the groin," he replied. She hit back, stopping before she made contact.

"So usually, when you do this, the asshole will move like this to grab your arm," he said as he bent slightly and grabbed her wrist.

"But before he grabs you, you wanna elbow up right in the face," she almost asked if she could really elbow him in the face but decided against it. He released her completely and she glanced back to him.

"Ready?" He asked as he looked in her direction. She faced away again and blew out a breath.

"Ready," she confirmed.

He quickly wrapped an arm around her but she pressed her chin down as he'd told her to. Then gripping his large forearm with both hands, she stepped to the right and swung her fist back, not making contact. He went to quickly snatch her wrist but she flung her elbow up, almost connecting. She beamed a smile as he let her go and she turned around.

"That was good. You're a quick learner," he smiled. This wasn't turning out to be as bad as she thought it would.

"Thanks. I'd say you're a good teacher but I'm scared your ego would get bigger than it already is," she smirked and he chuckled at her.

"We'll do one more for today, lay down," he gestured to the floor and she quirked a brow before getting to the floor and laying on her back.

"This one is harder to get out of, there's a lot more steps. But if you practice it then you should be fine," he said as he got on the floor on his knees. He grabbed her ankles and pushed her legs so her knees were bent and he moved so he was pressed against her. She just lay there curiously for a moment.

"You ready?" He asked carefully. She hadn't really thought too much about just what they were about to do but she nodded anyway. Then his hands were wrapped around her throat. It wasn't tight at all but as he loomed over her, even the featherlight touch around her neck sent her fight or flight into overdrive. His face suddenly morphed into Keiran's and despite no pressure being applied, she felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Daphne?" Matt faltered, his voice unsure. Something snapped in her and she shoved him off easily since he didn't try to resist her

She sat up, gasping for air as she scooted back until her back pressed against the rope. She had no idea what was wrong with her but her ears started ringing. Matt was talking but he sounded like he was underwater and she couldn't make out his words. Large hands cupped either side of her face and his fuzzy face came into focus. Matt, not Keiran.

"Breathe, okay? You're fine. Just breathe nice and slow for me," he soothed. She closed her eyes, her whole body shaking as she did as he said. She was safe. She knew that so why did she freak out? She felt her face flush in embarrassment and anger at herself for reacting that way as her breathing started to steady. Her body still trembled even when she could now breathe.

"I… uh…" she wanted to say something. Tell him she acted stupid. That she knew she wasn't really in danger and was being dramatic. But no words came out that didn't make her sound as pathetic as she felt.

"It's fine. You weren't ready. We can try again another time," he murmured. His hands left her face and he stood, holding a hand out to her. She took it and let him help her stand. The silence was tense as she wallowed in her embarrassment. She had to freak out over nothing, in front of Matt no less.

"Daphne, if you need to talk-"

"I'm fine," she bit out harshly. She hadn't meant to but she was angry and of course she'd lash out. He bit his lip with a tense nod as she climbed out from the ring. She stalked over to the water fountain and took a long gulp to try and calm herself down. Things were going fine until they weren't. She heaved a sigh.

"Thanks for training me," despite her words and how much she meant them, her tone was still guarded and a little brisk.

"No problem, feel free to come back when you're ready," he replied. She couldn't really read his voice. He didn't sound angry at her. He didn't sound anything. But she knew she'd been a bitch when all he'd done is help yet she couldn't find it in her to say sorry.

She swung her bag over her shoulder before leaving without a goodbye. Maybe it had been a mistake to go to him for help. He had helped though but she loathed feeling so vulnerable in front of anyone. Especially him. She knew her anger was at herself though. She felt so weak and helpless. She knew Matt wouldn't hurt her and she'd freaked out for nothing. The attack seemed to infect every part of her life and all she wanted was to close that chapter in her life and be done with it.

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

20 notes · View notes

ficforce · 4 years ago

Text

Little Lady Part 2

Joker/52 x Reader

SFW

No set timeline

New relationship

Staring at the ceiling of her room, Y/N let out a sigh and held up the card for the millionth time. She often found herself studying it as if it would answer all of her questions - Why had he given it to her?

That strange, dangerous man with a huge grin.

The one who had comforted her when she cried…

It was hard to remember all of the small details about him after such a brief encounter. Closing her eyes she took a breath and cast her mind back; he had long hair, she vaguely remembered it shining in the firelight. She knew he was tall and slim but when he had held her, when she had been fighting with him she had felt hard muscle under his clothes.

Often before she fell asleep she would see his purple eye in her mind.

She wished she could think less about him.

Why had he been there and what was he planning? He was creepy and he had given off a frightening aura at first - that’s why she had run.

Pocketing the card Y/N finally got up and left the Fire House, it was her day off and she wanted to explore the area. Her morning was fairly regular, she found a coffee shop and explored a bookshop down the road, she spent hours looking at the books, fiction and factual, some of them she was tempted to buy but in the end, she put them back hesitantly. Whilst slipping an engineering guide back into place Y/N felt a shiver run down her back, turning her head quickly to see if she was being watched she thought she saw someone but dismissed it.

Her next stop was a clothing store having a sale, she needed to get some winter clothing sooner rather than later if the chilly wind was anything to go by. Picking a coat had been easy but it was the choice between a purple scarf and a black scarf that had her stuck. Again she felt like someone was watching her, another shiver hit her and Y/N spun to look behind her - something that felt like breath on the back of her neck made her squeak and stumble forward before turning again.

Nothing.

Though when she looked down at her basket she saw that the purple scarf had fallen inside.

Her purse was gone.

The rest of her day went like that, the feeling of being watched and little instances that spooked her or made her jump. Y/N became so concerned with keeping an eye out for the thing making her jumpy that she crashed into someone as she was crossing the road, “Sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it.” They had kept on walking, vanishing down a side street and Y/N decided it was time to go back to base - she couldn’t relax. Reaching into her pocket for her purse she paused, checking her other one just in case…

“Don’t worry, Little Lady,” Joker said and held her purse up with his spare hand, “The nice man was about to return it, right?” The thief couldn’t nod and he barely had any breath inside his lungs - the hand around his throat making that difficult. Dropping the thief to the dirty, alley floor, Joker jerked his head to the side, “Get out of here.” They scrabbled up off of the ground and ran past Y/N toward the exit of the alley; leaving just the two of them.

She didn’t even think about it, she ran in the direction the man who had bumped into her had gone and down the alley. From memory, she knew there was an exit straight ahead and an opening to the left, taking the left she came to a halt with a shocked gasp. If she kept this up she would get whiplash from all of her sudden stops.

The man who had bumped into her was being held against the wall by his neck, his feet a good few inches off the ground and babbling out panicked apologies like a frightened child. The one holding him up was dressed in smart pants, a white shirt and a maroon waistcoat, his hat obscured his face a little but she recognised him right away.

“You…” Y/N began, taking a step back as Joker advanced on her, “You’ve been following me, haven’t you?” It had to have been him, it was too much of a coincidence for her to feel watched so often, “S-Stay back!” He kept coming toward her and she kept walking backwards until she had backed herself against the wall and his hands came up to cage her in.

Her breath hitched as his face leaned towards hers.

Joker’s eye narrowed and he pushed himself off the wall, taking one step back so that he wasn’t crowding her; she was scared of tight spaces, he could remember at least that much from their first encounter. “I’m not gonna hurt you, here’s your purse back.” Joker handed it to her, waiting until she snatched it out of his hand to grin down at her, she didn’t trust him at all, did she?

“Glad you didn’t get burnt to a crisp.”

“No thanks to you!” Y/N snapped and made to leave the alley, he quickly moved to block her exit, hands up in surrender and his expression was almost panicked like he didn’t want her to go.

“Hold on, Y/N, not yet, you want a coffee or something? A snack, you didn’t eat much today?” He saw the way her eyebrows drew together and the tall man sighed. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing and he wasn’t even sure if he was going about this the right way, “I just wanna talk.”

“…And what’s your name?”

She hesitated for a moment, looking at him suspiciously, trying to figure him out by just looking but he was hard to read. His body language was all over the place - almost like he wanted to run away, his words were friendly and wanted her to stay but the waving hands and the way his voice pitched just a little, told her he was nervous as hell.

Like a stray cat that wanted food but was afraid of being kicked.

It wasn’t too different from a feral she used to feed, it had never known how to interact with the other cats and ended up alone. “How do you know my name?”

“I looked inside your purse, says your name on the ID.” He wasn’t the least bit sorry for snooping.

He gave her a large grin before lighting up a cigarette, “Don’t you know? I gave you my business card.”

“You gave me a playing card, you nut!” Y/N almost ripped it out of her coat pocket so that she could push it almost into his face, “This doesn’t tell me a thing! Don’t you know how to introduce yourself like a regular person?!”

Joker was a little stunned by her sudden outburst and his widened eye focussed on the card nearly pressed to his nose; she had kept his card. It was a little burnt but he could see that she had been playing with it, it was worn a little in places, curled and warped from being held and fidgeted with - why didn’t she just throw it away?

Y/N took a step toward him, agitated that he had been messing with her all day, agitated that he had been all she could think about since meeting him, “This is just a joker card, how is this a business card?”

He chose it himself?

This time it was him that took a nervous step back, hands up in front of him again in surrender, “You sure are fiery today, Little Lady…” It never ceased to amaze him how people changed when they were scared or angry, “I’m Joker, so it’s totally a business card!”

“What kind of name is that?”

“One I chose myself.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, her frown becoming a little deeper as she tried to make sense of him, he chose his own name? The woman crossed her arms and continued to half glare at him before throwing caution to the wind and asking, “And what was the name you were given?”

He had never had a name, not one that he knew of at least; he had been abandoned and then thrown into the darkness to serve as the Church’s pawn, to perform its dirtiest tasks. So he gave the only other answer he could, “Five-Two.”

She closed her mouth, for a moment she was going to scold him for blurting out those numbers to her, then it clicked. He really was just a feral cat that didn’t fit in with his own people.

The way he acted, the almost stalking when all he said he wanted to do was talk, getting her purse back… he was just some stray looking to her for scraps.

He had no idea how to people like other people.

But he had known enough to know that she had needed comfort after being trapped in such a small place, he had made sure she hadn’t been hurt in the explosions he caused in the Rookie Games. It was evident he could read people even if he didn’t quite know what to do.

“I was looking out for you!” He grumbled.

“…You…” She was stumped for what to say.

Instead, she grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the street, “You can buy me a hot chocolate for creeping me out all day, got it?”

“That’s called stalking, idiot.”

Joker pulled on her hand, stopping her from walking into oncoming traffic after she had missed the light changing colour, “Careful, Little Lady. I don’t want you going splat.”

“You could have just stopped at ‘careful’,” Y/N looked away as heat began to rise in her cheeks, “And stop calling me ‘Little Lady’!”

#joker/52 #reader #fire force #enen no shouboutai #enn enn no shouboutai

34 notes · View notes

emisfritish · 5 years ago

Text

I’ll try every way (part 3)

Well because I have virtually zero self control, here’s the third part tonight. And I think you can expect parts 4, 5 and 6 by tomorrow night.

Summary : Five times Tine could only show he cared through different gestures, and the one time he didn’t need to.

Pairing : Sarawat / Tine

Show : 2gether the series

Part : 3/6

Previous parts : Part I / Part II /

Next part : Part IV

---------

A couple nights later, Tine and Sarawat are hanging out in Sarawat’s bedroom, quietly working on homework. They are each doing their own thing, and focussing on their studies.

Well. If Tine is honest with himself, Sarawat is indeed focussing on his essay, as indicated by the furious typing he has going on and that can be heard around the room from where he is sitting at his desk, while Tine himself is laying on his front in Sarawat’s bed, textbooks spread in front of him, deep in thought. His mind on everything but his homework.

It’s just that… This is nice. Between Sarawat’s rehearsals with his band, Tine’s own intense cheerleading practice schedule, and both of their classes, they don’t get to see each other as often as they did when they first started “fake dating”, and Tine just enjoys those moments, where the two of them can just be.

What little free time they do have, they tend to spend with their group of friends, and although Tine always appreciates those moments, he enjoys being around Sarawat without any expectations of doing anything in particular, and just being able to hang out and be together.

Sarawat is… Well. Sarawat is something, to him, as Tine is starting to figure out. But before anything else ? Sarawat is his friend, and Tine is glad they get to keep the unwavering companionship that has always existed between them. His feelings for Sarawat may be complicated right now, but actually being with him and hanging out together ? That has always been so easy, and there are few people in his life that Tine feels he can be this comfortable with. With whom he doesn’t feel like he needs to put on a show for all of the time, and can just be himself.

So yeah. This is nice.

And if Tine also gets to enjoy observing Sarawat’s delicate features while the other boy is too busy focussing on his essay to notice, well… No one actually needs to know that.

“Hey Wat,” he asks, when a lull in the typing grants him a window of opportunity to talk.

Sarawat just hums in answer, obviously still focussed on his essay and clearly not paying close attention to what Tine is saying.

“I saw that Desktop Error was coming to town for a concert. In about a month or so,” Tine starts to explain. “Do you want to maybe go together ?”

Before he even finishes his full sentence, Sarawat suddenly turns around completely from where he is sitting at his desk and just stares at Tine.

“What did you just say ?”

Tine rolls his eyes, certain that Sarawat heard him the first time.

“Desktop Error. Concert. Next month. In the city. Do you want to go ?” he repeats himself.

Sarawat just keeps on staring and stays silent, long enough that Tine starts to think that maybe he’s made a mistake. Maybe he was being a little too intrusive with asking this. Music is something that Sarawat loves and obviously knows a lot more about than Tine does. Maybe it’s just one of those things his friend prefers doing alone. Or maybe he would rather go to the concert with someone that actually has any musical culture, other than listening to a few mainstream bands, that is.

Sarawat’s friends had actually had to drag him to Scrubb’s concert, last year... Maybe he doesn’t even like concerts at all.

“But you don’t even know or like the band,” the other boy finally answers after a while, looking confused.

“Well… Yeah. That’s true. But you do,” Tine says, shrugging his shoulders. “And you’re always saying I only listen to Scrubb, maybe it’s time for me to broaden my horizons a little !”

Sarawat keeps on staring, looking like he’s deep in thought, and with that calculating look he gets on his face whenever he’s not quite sure he gets what’s going on with a situation he’s in, and Tine starts to backtrack, not wanting to force his friend’s hand.

“I mean, it was just an idea. We don’t have to…”

“Yes,” Sarawat finally says, interrupting him mid-sentence.

“What ?” asks Tine, trying to wrap his head around the conversation and understand what Wat is agreeing to, in spite of the whiplash the conversation is giving him.

“Yes. I’d like to go,” Sarawat elaborates, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Feeling a rush of relief and joy, Tine can’t help but smile at his friend in answer. Before he has the time to say anything else though, Sarawat keeps on talking.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to handle it though, Tua woon wai ?”, he asks with a smirk on his face. “Unlike P’Dim’s concert, this is actual good music. We can’t just go and listen to Scrubb on my phone during the concert,” he continues, seemingly having gotten over whatever was making him look all confused and going right back to his favourite pastime, teasing Tine.

“Salaleo ! Of course I will !”, Tine whines back, feigning offense at his friend’s jab, which simply causes Sarawat to outright laugh at him.

“I’ll book up some tickets tonight then,” Tine continues after a few seconds, throwing a blinding smile Sarawat’s way, before casually turning back to his textbooks to actually start reading his lesson, entirely missing the fond look on Sarawat’s face.

Broadening his horizons. He can do that, Tine thinks to himself. And who knows, maybe it’ll actually be good for him.

#sarawat x tine #saratine #sarawatine #2gether the series #2gether #2gether fanfic #saratine fanfic #sarawatine fanfic #I'll try every way #emi's writing

121 notes · View notes

spartanguard · 5 years ago

Text

babyfaced

Summary: A bet gone awry forces Killian to get rid of his beard for a month. going beardless makes him look significantly younger; but the clock turns back on more than just his face. | rated T; 2.2k words

dedicated to @xpumpkindumplingx who told me to “do the thing” and @thesschesthair because this is either up her alley or the exact opposite of it.

A/N: just a bit of a crack fic inspired by this post (and the fact that Colin O’Donoghue is a freaking baby face when he shaves), but plus magic—because it’s Storybrooke and we can. header image taken by @lillpon.

Killian sighed heavily and stared at himself in the mirror, committing his face to memory. He ran a hand over his well-maintained scruff, relishing the feel of it against his palm for the last time for the foreseeable future.

“C’mon, Killian—it’s just a shave,” David shouted from outside the restroom at Granny’s.

It was a stupid bet, which of course Killian, in all his cocky arrogance, had taken Dave up on. And it was just his dumb luck that David would have the best darts game of his life and Killian his worst.

So now Killian had to shave off his beard and remain bare-faced for a month. (A month that was typically biting cold and he was always grateful for the bit of a barrier his beard provided.) He hadn’t gone without a beard since...well, not since he was capable of growing one. And there was a reason for that.

But he was nothing if not a man of his word, so with one last caress of his beloved stubble, he picked up the shaving implements he’d been provided with and set to work.

Although he had to send a disparaging glare at the can of shaving foam, labeled as Baby Face Shaving Cream. It was already mocking him. But at least Granny kept straight blades on hand, so he was able to complete the task at hand with some familiarity—even if it meant the result staring back at him was anything but.

Head hung down, he finally emerged from the lavatory to his waiting father-in-law. He could already hear David snickering.

“What, trying to hide? Come on—give me the full view.”

Killian gripped the can of shaving cream so hard he thought it might burst as he huffed and shifted his weight between his feet. “Must I?”

“Unless you plan on looking at the ground for the next month, then yeah.”

Best just get it over with. “Fine.” And he lifted his head to look David straight in the eyes.

It was simultaneously amusing and embarrassing the way Dave’s eyes grew wide at the sight. “Wow, you weren’t kidding—you really do look 10 years younger. Or a hundred and ten, or whatever.”

“No, I wasn’t. So please get all your infant jokes out now.”

David gave all he could in that department on the short walk back to the dining area, and had wrapped them up by the time Killian slumped into the booth next to Emma. He was back to trying to hide his chin and keenly felt the sensation of all eyes being on him, which just made him want to melt into the vinyl cushions even more.

As much as could be said for his leather jackets and kohl, that beard was part of the armor he used against the world, in addition to helping give him a commanding appearance. Without it, he felt much like a lost youth again, and oddly naked.

But then Emma’s hand was on his (very smooth) cheek, turning his face towards her. He heard her hitch her breath and that drew his attention, finally forcing him to look back up. She was studying him intently, and brushing the back of her fingers across his bare skin. Her brow was furrowed and to his surprise, he couldn’t tell why.

“Is it alright, love?” he asked quietly; if she hated it, then the deal with Dave was off.

But then a smirk took over her features. “It’s adorable,” she gushed, much to his consternation; he hung his head yet again. “No, Killian—come on,” she protested, and pulled his chin back up. “It’s different, but a good kind—it’s like seeing you in high school or something.”

“See? I look like a teenager. This is ridiculous.”

“I think you look very sweet, Killian,” Snow said from the other side of the booth, but that didn’t help much.

“Exactly,” Emma agreed. “You are a softie, Killian Jones, and for once, you look like it.”

He did have to admit: the way Emma couldn’t keep her hands off his face did have a perk, and she seemed to enjoy peppering his smooth cheeks with kisses (he also conceded that it felt nice to have her lips right against his skin). But the stares and smirks from everyone else meant it was going to be a long, long month.

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

With the way his facial hair grew, he had to shave at least twice a week to maintain a satisfactory level of clean shaven-ness. Granny had let him keep the shaving cream they’d found at the bed & breakfast, even though she herself wasn’t sure how long it’d been there. At least it had a nice, clean scent, and seemed to take decent care of his skin, if the way Emma continued to caress his face each morning was anything to go by.

Although one day, a week or so later, she did narrow her gaze on him. “Have you been using my eye cream?” she asked.

“No; just the normal facial moisturizer,” he answered.

“Huh; must be something in that shaving cream, then, because your crows’ feet aren’t as deep.”

He shrugged; he knew there were plenty of ways of reducing the appearance of age in this realm with proper skin care, so it was to be assumed that once he started doing the same, it might have some affect. “I’m sure it’s only temporary, then, as you give me abundant reasons to smile every day.”

She just grinned and kissed him.

He did notice, though, that as time went on, his beard didn’t seem to fill in as much as it used to. It was mildly concerning, but he figured it just had to do with the fact that he was starting over from square one every time it began to regrow; once the month was up, it would return to its normal level of thickness.

A couple weeks in, he wondered if he might even be shaving too often, when red bumps began to appear on his chin; it reminded him of the zits he would get in his adolescence. God, he would probably blend in with the high schoolers, between the lack of beard and appearance of acne. At least he had his chest hair to rely on.

But—was it just him, or was that looking a little thin, too?

Perhaps he was just seeing things. Perhaps he was just tired, too—he found himself feeling rather...vigorous lately, which had led to some late nights with Emma. (Several.) Usually, she was the insatiable one, calling him “old man” and other teasing endearments, but for once, he had more stamina than her.

“You’re not taking Viagra or anything, are you?” she asked, breathless, one night.

“Taking what?”

“Never mind.” (Even if she didn’t have another round in her, she still couldn’t keep her hands from his chin. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.)

With the extra energy in his system, he started to spend more time on his ship, and even took up running. It was giving him a leanness he hadn’t had since he was a lanky lad, and did lead to some oddly timed naps, but mostly just left him hungry.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Emma asked after he polished off far more of a pizza than he normally did.

“Aye, love—perfectly fine,” he assured her, though her worry was causing the same in him. “Why?”

“I don’t know; it’s like...with your face looking so much younger, all of you seems to be a little younger.”

His brow furrowed at that—but at the same time, he knew it was fairly impossible.

Still, the idea lingered, as well as the sense that he’d somehow disappointed Emma. He found his mood changing on a dime during the last week of the terms of the bet, at times feeling depressed and lonely, and daring and joyous at others. It nearly gave him whiplash.

He sought once to calm his nerves in a glass of rum but, oddly, couldn’t stomach it like he used to.

It was while having a conversation with Emma and David at the station and his voice cracked that he finally realized something was amiss.

“God, you even sound like a pubescent teenager,” Dave teased, but Emma immediately became concerned.

“Okay, something weird is definitely going on,” she said, then came over to assess him. “Do you feel different anywhere? Did someone hit you with a spell or something?”

Suddenly feeling annoyed, he shrugged her off and stepped away. “Bloody hell, no! I don’t know what’s happening. I just know I’m emotional and have too much energy and it feels like everyone hates me and—”

He was cut off when Emma pulled him into a hug—quite possibly one of the best feeling hugs he’d ever had, and he immediately sank into it. “That better?”

“Aye,” he said into her shoulder.

“Sometimes, you just need a hug. It helps Henry.”

He rolled his eyes, but was glad she couldn’t see it. “Yeah, but you’re not my mum.”

“No; it still helps though.” She pulled away. “Can you stay here while I go check something? Make yourself a cocoa, okay?”

“Okay,” he muttered. She placed a peck on his cheek, gave her father an oddly angry look, then headed out.

“What was that about?” Dave wondered aloud.

Killian just shrugged. “I dunno. Want cocoa?”

“Sure.”

They shared a mug (Killian may have doubled up on cocoa packets in his) and were chilling on the couch when Emma returned, holding a vial. “What’s that?” he asked, standing, as she came in.

“Stand right there and don’t move,” she commanded. “Dad, come over by me.”

Both guys did as asked, and Emma popped the cork on the vial. Carefully, she put a tiny amount of the powder inside in her palm.

“Okay, brace yourself, Killian.”

“For what?” he complained, but it was too late: she’d blown the powder his way.

He winced when it hit him, then a tingling sensation took over his body, leaving him a bit sore—but somehow also feeling more normal than he had in weeks.

He blinked when the prickling feeling dissipated and looked back at his companions; Emma was smiling and David, for some reason, looked upset.

“Hey, it hasn’t been a full month yet!” he protested. Killian reached up to brush his hand along his jaw; his beard was back.

“What did you do, love?” he had to ask; he thought she liked him cleanshaven?

“I was right; you were literally aging backwards,” she said. “That shaving cream? Turns out it had some magic in it that turned back the clock. If you’d used it any more, you probably would have started to get shorter.”

“Bloody hell,” he cursed. “So I really was a teenager?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

David was looking very sheepish off to the side, especially when Emma leveled her gaze at him. “So thanks for putting my husband in high school, Dad.”

“Sorry!” he said quickly. “I had no idea; I just wanted to see what he’d look like.”

“Well, maybe next time, don’t put such a ridiculous time limit on your bets, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed, though the way he was curling in on himself let them know he was genuinely sorry.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go have my way with the MAN I married—not the BOY,” she said pointedly, grabbing Killian’s hand and leading him from the station. They didn’t pause to see David’s reaction, but it was easy to imagine.

“I’d say that was fair punishment, Swan,” Killian quipped as Emma led them down the street toward their house.

“Oh, definitely,” she giggled. “But I wasn’t kidding. I need to have you when we’re both on the same level.”

“I think I can handle that.”

(He couldn’t. Apparently, aging nearly 20 years in one day was draining.)

The next morning, he shuffled down to the kitchen to the smell of pancakes and bacon, and the sight of Emma cooking. He sidled up behind her, like he usually did, and buried his scruffy chin in the crook of her shoulder, tickling her and making her laugh.

“Still feeling okay?” she asked as she flipped the pancakes on the griddle.

“Aye; back to my old self. A fact that I don’t think I’ll ever take for granted.”

“Good.” She moved the pancakes off the pan and onto the plate, then turned off the stove. She turned in his embrace and quickly placed her hands on his cheeks, scratching through his scruff. “Mm, I missed that,” she hummed.

“Yeah? You seemed to have a thing for a clean face, too,” he replied.

She shrugged. “It had its novelty, definitely, and it was kind of nice to see what you looked like before life happened.” He swallowed; he hadn’t thought of that. He’d definitely seen pictures of Emma as a youth, but obviously, there weren’t any of him. “But now you look like the man I fell in love with again, so please don’t let any stupid bet or spell change that, okay?”

“I’ll do my best, love, as long as you do the same.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Actually, might I propose something else?” he added.

“What’s that?”

“I’d quite like to see what it’s like to grow old with you.”

Emma grinned, crinkling the skin by her eyes and around her mouth. “I would love that.”

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

thanks for reading! tagging some friends: @kat2609 @optomisticgirl @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @effulgentcolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot

#cs ff #my ff #cs crack fic #cs fluff #idek how to tag this

164 notes · View notes

thisselflovecamebacktome · 4 years ago

Text

All the little reasons (so far) why The 1 is my tied favourite off of Folklore

Continuation of 'classic Taylor’ patterns:

The 1 helps to carry on the tradition Taylor has put into her albums since RED where the beginning of the stories actually starts with song three. The first two songs are instead used to heavily allude to the story and themes about to be told but aren’t directly part of them and especially not the beginning of them.

In RED, we get State of Grace which alludes to the intense love and positive side of “red” emotions with hints of ignoring red flags whereas Red shows the painful and negative “red” emotions and alludes to the themes of heartbreak.

In 1989 we get Welcome To New York, alluding to trying to get past someone and new beginnings before transitioning into Blank Space indicating that the opinions of others, particularly surrounding her dating, is something that was going to cause issues.

In Reputation we got ...Ready For It, where the verses again show a somewhat satirical take of how people see the both of them in a dark, “edgy” beat that is often used for “angry” tracks mixed with a “softer” tune more used for happier music for the chorus where she talks about being alone with him and doing what she actually wants to. Then we get End Game which serves as a contrast and connecting piece to the “angry/unhealthy” and “happy/healthy” sides of the album. We get the big declaration of love and showy attitude with hints of insecurity because that’s ultimately what Taylor saw as love in the past which contrasts with the quieter moments of love in the later half of the album such as squeezing hands in a cab or building metaphorical fires in locked up houses to keep each other warm.

In Lover we get I Forgot That You Existed to indicate the theme of figuring out who and what’s truly important in life before moving onto Cruel Summer which not only shows the theme of holding onto each other when things are rough, but the importance of communication in a relationship.

And what about Folklore? The 1 and Cardigan brings us into the fantasy world of Folklore by first asking “What If?” and reminding us that life is full of choices and those choices matter in the grand scheme of things. While the rest of the album tells seemingly unquestionable stories relying on how the characters actually felt, The 1 and Cardigan both rely on nostalgia before reminding us right at the end of each song that that wasn’t how the story went and that certain choices were the reason for that... Which leads me to my next point:

One thing being different would not have made everything different today:

As I previously mentioned, one of the major themes of Folklore is that choices matter. Another interlocking theme is that things just don’t happen out of the blue. The choices we make add up and can cause a perfect storm.

Looking at this through the lens of the love triangle, in order for James to be in the position he’s in in “Betty”, it wasn’t enough that August happened to be there. The guy Betty was dancing with had to ask her to dance, James had to feel insecure about it AND be immature enough to sulk and leave rather than telling Betty how he felt, August had to show up when she did, James had to make the continuous choice to spend the Summer with August, Inez had to tell Betty what happened and finally Betty had to be offended enough to break up with James. The situation the three of them found themselves in could have been prevented at several different points, making it impossible to say if one thing had been different, it all would have been.

Despite the lyric, The 1 also shows that one thing being different wasn’t likely to have the desired effect of the pair ending up together through several lyrics throughout the song.

In my defence I have none for never leaving well enough alone - This gives the implication that the narrator was prone to starting arguments over topics that didn’t need to be fought over.

If you wanted me you really should have shown it - The narrator shows that the other person didn’t make it seem like a serious long term relationship was an option. Though this could have been a miscommunication, it also implied to me that the other person wasn’t ready to settle down and acted as such meaning that a long term relationship probably wasn’t on the cards.

Rose flowing with your chosen family.... In my defence I have none - So I’m going to go into this a bit later because it relates to a couple of the reasons I love this song, but in short, the narrator impliedly did not make an effort with aspects of the other person’s life, in this case loved ones, that meant a lot to them nor did the narrator have those aspects for themselves.

But it would have been fun if you would have been the one - Connecting this reason with the theme of nostalgia, I find the word ‘fun’ an interesting choice from a songwriter who tends to use intense words like ‘magical’, ‘fearless’, ‘permanent’, ‘wild’ and even ‘really something’ to describe the loves of her life. In comparison, ‘fun’ feels very casual. While not a choice of the relationship, the use of the word along with lack of hard moments shown in the song does imply to me that the narrator has based this ‘what if’ on pure nostalgia and makes me assume that there several reasons things turned out like they did.

Its links with other songs on the album:

Anyone who knows me knows that my favourite aspect of an album is feeling like I got something out of listening to those songs in that order together that I couldn’t have gotten from listening to the songs alone. Often this comes from contrasts in songs like how I mentioned End Game’s production and lyrics contrast the back end of Reputation, relatability like how 22 is in between All Too Well and I Almost Do because that time with her friends is merely distracting her from her pain or hearing how the same things can be seen differently like how WANEGBT, Stayx3 and The Last Time come one after another to show the relationship was on and off, why she stayed in said relationship and those same traits that kept her staying were now why she was at the end of her rope with said relationship. Really in general RED as an album is a brilliant example because while a lot of people don’t get it, the whiplash of positive and negative songs really does represent what it’s like to be in that kind of toxic relationship.

But I’m not here to talk about RED or Reputation, I’m here to to talk about Folklore. While many people would probably say that the love triangle songs are the best representation of what I’m talking about, I honestly think The 1 and Peace are the two songs that most benefit from the context of the other songs in the album. Specifically, The 1 benefits in the following ways in my honest opinion:

The 1 serves as the other side of the same coin to Invisible String. The 1 discusses a relationship where circumstances didn’t line up to make it work whereas Invisible String describes a relationship where the stars aligned and it all did work out. Further, The 1 asks the question ‘what if things were different and this one relationship worked out?’ and Invisible String answers with ‘well thank goodness it didn’t’.

You know the greatest films of all time were never made versus I think I’ve seen this film before: the automatic assumption and link that the love in Exile was not either of their greatest loves.

If you never bleed you’re never going to grow links so well with But now I’m bleeding and Peter losing Wendy from Cardigan.

Though it’s not connected with other Folklore lyrics, the little links of things like never leaving well enough alone being in The 1 and past songs (in this case ME!) and the Sad Beautiful Tragic vibe that the second prechorus of The 1 gives always brings a smile to my face.

And finally, my favourite parallel of this whole album:

In my defence I have [no chosen family] and its link with Family that I chose now that I see your brother as my brother from Peace. To me, this parallel brings together everything I have said so far. It brings the album together and once again reinforces that a theme in Folklore is how choices dictate our lives. The fact that somewhere along the lines the narrator realised that there didn’t have to be a ‘his loved ones’ and ‘her loved ones’ and made the effort and choice to incorporate themselves into their partner’s life and found that to be an important part of why they are working out in a way they didn’t with their past partners lives rent free in my mind, heart and soul everyday, not going to lie. Like I don’t know how to explain it, but that link alone just added so much to both of those songs for me personally.

Other little things:

This song is beyond relatable. Like I could not tell you one person who doesn’t have that one past thing or relationship, romantic or otherwise, they wish could have been different and fantasise/romanticise what that would have looked like.

The 1 and August are the two funnest songs to sing to from Folklore and even though both are relatively sad lyrically, always give me a good boost of serotonin when I sing them.

Relating to the two points above, singing “In my defence I have none” loudly when you don’t have family and feel like none of your wishes like me ever came true feels like free therapy lmao.

While I know Taylor didn’t write The 1 from a fully autobiographical point of view, the idea of her seeing one of her multimillionaire exes at the bus stop makes me laugh every time.

It’s a grower. While it was always in my top six, as I mentioned in the title, it’s in a three way tie with August and Exile as my favourite song from Folklore right now.

All in all I just really love this song and all the tiny little details that make it amazing and honestly think it’s a very underrated song in Taylor’s discography.

#the 1 #taylor swift #folklore #this is literally every single thought i've ever had about this song placed into one spot for me to refer back to

5 notes · View notes

truthbeetoldmedia · 5 years ago

Text

The 100 7x01 "From the Ashes"

Welcome back to The 100 (for the last time). We have finally reached the beginning of the end and what a journey it promises to be. Last season ended with several big shockers, Abby Griffin was taken as a host for Simone Prime, the Flame was removed from Madi and effectively destroyed and Octavia Blake was stabbed and disappeared into a fine mist-ala Marvel characters after a Thanos snap. That means that the last season premiere The 100 will ever get already has a lot of questions to answer, in addition to (hopefully) managing to successfully wrap up a series that has spanned several years.

As in previous years I’ll be dividing my review into sections, previously these sections were a riff on the concept of “The Good, The Bad, The Ugly”. This season, I will be separating them based on plot line-as even in this first episode there are two different ones-until those plots begin to coalesce into one.

We’ll begin with what I am currently terming:

“The Main Plot That is Somehow Made Up of Only Side Characters (Two of Whom We Just Met)”

We pick up right where we left off, with Bellamy reeling from Octavia’s strange disappearance and rushing off into the woods around Gabriel’s compound to search for her. In his grief he’s less than observant and he is knocked unconscious and abducted by an apparently invisible force. These few seconds-less than 30-represent all of the screen time Bellamy Blake receives in the first episode of the final season of The 100. Fans who have been watching the promotion for the final season have become increasingly anxious over the absence of the male lead and it seems those anxieties were justified. It is astonishing and offensive that one of the core members of the show is removed completely from the story in the final season, his absence literally stripped from him as he is once again thrust back into a plot line he has only just managed to escape: his life (and thus his worth) being directly proportional to Octavia’s. As Hope escapes and Gabriel and Echo take off after Bellamy we finally actually enter “The Main Plot That is Somehow Made Up of Only Side Characters”.

Eventually, Gabriel and Echo run into Hope, who has discovered-albeit too late-a piece of paper lodged in her arm that states “Trust Bellamy”.That message doesn’t stop her from getting into a quick tussle with Echo and it’s obvious that she’s had some training-with a mother like Diyoza and some kind of relationship with Octavia, that’s not at all surprising. The three of them-after coming to a sort of peace with one another, journey for quite some time. It is full dark before they catch up with the invisible force that has taken Bellamy and when they do so, they find themselves caught up in the hallucinations that the anomaly causes.

Here we see Echo confronted by two ghosts from her past, King Roan and the actual Echo-the one she murdered in order to survive. Both ghosts make valid points-that Echo is a creature driven by servitude, which some I suppose would mistakenly call loyal. They even go so far as to question Echo’s purpose in life now that her current master (Bellamy) is missing. I don’t think it’s an unfair assessment. Echo latched on to Bellamy in Season 4, seeing him as an authoritarian figure and she never really let go. While I do believe that they both love each other, it seems very obvious that said love (at least on Echo’s part) is fueled by a need to have someone who she can serve. Who is Echo once she no longer has someone to answer to, who does she become when her one stabilizing figure is gone. I suppose that’s a question we’ll get answers to this season. Hope also sees a vision-albeit shorter-of Octavia telling her to stay quiet, no matter what she hears. As this is a line we’ve heard in the trailer, it seems obvious that the anomaly can also show someone memories and not just their innermost fears (what we see with Echo). Gabriel sees nothing-or at least nothing we see, but this is unsurprising given he’s studied the anomaly so long.

Finally managing to break free of the hallucinations that they’re being shown the trio manage to get the jump on a few of the invisible assailants and when they do the audience is shown the inside of their helmets. Hope they are told to kill on sight, indicating that she is somehow a known threat to them, but Echo and Gabriel are supposed to be reditioned to Bardo. I’d like to take the time to point out now that to rendition doesn’t simply mean to take. It means that you are treating these people as political prisoners who know potentially damaging information-and want to use any means including inhumane ones to retrieve that information. And Bellamy has already been taken. Despite the order to rendition Gabriel and Echo though, they don’t actually seem to want to capture them, instead continuing to rebuff them, together Gabriel, Echo and Hope manage to stop the assault and their story ends with them walking into the anomaly holding hands-so that they won’t be separated. It’s possible their next stop lands them directly in Bellamy’s path, but given it’s taken them so long to catch up with the Invisible Force I find that unlikely, especially given that the Force can apparently conjure up the anomaly whenever they choose to.

I do find it very interesting that the Invisible Force was also meant to capture Echo and Gabriel and yet-when they chase after Bellamy-the Force fights them off. I'm assuming that they choose to take Bellamy and leave the others so someone is left behind to tell Clarke that Bellamy has been taken.This makes sense as, Clarke being the main character, she’s likely the person they’re trying to ultimately take. It’s just one more piece of bait (that will produce no actual results) for Bellarke fans however. While the instinct is to be excited that whoever has taken Bellamy likely knows that Clarke will do whatever she can to save Bellamy, at this point we all know that nothing good is on the horizon for him.

This leads me into my next section:

“Almost All of the Mains are Here, but it Feels Like This Plotline is Unnecessary”

Sprinkled through this episode like bits of parsley (aka food grass) are the rest of the Arkadians (and yes I still call them that). So much of this particular plot feels like something that could have been taken care of during the Season 6 finale. Almost everything that happens in Sanctum could have been carefully tied up during the final bit of Season 6 and we could have begun this Season with the scene of Octavia being stabbed and disappearing. It feels very disjointed to watch Clarke (and the others) deal with the repercussions of what happened in space, like what to do with Russell Prime (especially as it appears that all of these things happen literally the day after the Season 6 finale). We’re expected to believe that Clarke has apparently gone through all of the stages of grief, somehow managed to find a perfect yellow farmhouse, set up Russell in what is essentially serving as a prison and begun to discuss plans for building a compound for the Arkadians all in, what is essentially a few hours after her mother’s death?

To top all of that off, we never see any cracks in the picture perfect “I’m fine” exterior until Clarke snaps when Russell hands over Abby's ring and clothes and begins to beat him rather brutally. It’s such a stark contrast to her behavior over the course of the episode that it just doesn’t align with anything that she’s done. To have Clarke go from “I want to do better because I don’t want Madi to grow up in a cruel society.” to “We’ve all made mistakes, tomorrow Russell Prime dies for his.” almost gave me whiplash. It would have been so much more believable if we’d seen small cracks in her facade over the course of the episode, but there were none. Am I meant to believe that-like Madi retains some of the memories of the Commanders before her even though the Flame is destroyed-that Josephine (and her sociopathy) linger in Clarke’s consciousness and that’s what made her brutally assault Russell? Or am I meant to believe that this is truly Clarke? I don’t know, but I do know that whatever message they were trying to sink there, it didn’t land.

I did really love Madi’s plot this episode. I enjoy that, now that the Flame is dead she doesn’t have to be a receptacle for a long dead love interest of Clarke’s. I enjoyed that she was going to school and has a house and a dog. I really liked that she was finally able to remind Clarke (and the audience) that she had a mother before Clarke and she didn’t just forget her because Clarke showed up. I did not like the fact that-even in the absence of the Flame-we are expected to believe that Madi still maintains memories from the commander and of course the one they choose to focus on is one of Clarke as Wanheda-meaning that it’s a memory of Lexa’s. It is infuriating to me that the Flame can be destroyed and yet Madi as a character somehow still exists as a mouthpiece for a character who has been dead for over 125 years at this point. It would be nice if this show could spend time actually developing the new characters they forcefully insert into the narrative every year, but I expect in the final season, that might be asking for a bit too much.

To further the refusal to leave the Grounders in the past, Jason somehow manages to have the Dark Commander transfer his consciousness into Russell Prime’s where he lurks in the background until Russell is knocked unconscious by Clarke (are we to assume Russell has not slept during this time as well?). My best guess is that he does this by using some type of Bluetooth/Wi-Ffi situation, When they are destroying the flame and uploading him into the Eligius ship. Because both are Eligius tech, the Flame and the mind drives created by Becca are similar. I assume the Dark Commander’s code searched for (and found in Russell-who was on the ship) something similar to his own tech and simply uploaded himself onto it in the background, waiting for an opportunity to show up. Now all that’s left is to see what type of fresh hell he unleashes on an entirely new planet-especially given some of the residents of said planet believe him to be a god.

I do find Murphy potentially interesting this year. For years he has managed to “cockroach” his way through situations. Staying alive through nearly impossible situations. But there seems to be a fair amount of turmoil surrounding his decisions as they relate to Clarke and Abby (and their deaths) as well as his decision to become a Prime. Given that connection with two of the three Griffin women, and my concern that Madi will find herself in danger once it’s discovered that she is no longer the Commander and once the Dark Commander manages to get her alone (which we all know will happen sooner or later), I would not be surprised if Murphy (who has never been one to make the sacrifice play) does so in this final Season.

Smaller things I enjoyed include Raven and Clarke’s relationship being on the mend. The two haven’t really been friends since Season 2 and Finn’s death, so it’s nice to see that-although it took Shaw and Abby’s deaths respectively-they seem to be leaning on each other at this time. With Clarke having lost all of her natural born family, it would not surprise me if she is willing to go to devastating lengths this Season to keep them all safe. I’m also very interested in the increased presence of both Gaia and Indra. As a fan of both Tati Gabrielle and Adina Porter (and their massive talent) in show’s outside of The 100, I’ve yearned for a deeper exploration into their relationship for Seasons. It looks like we might finally get to dive deeper into who they are now that Gaia is no longer a Flamekeeper and Indra no longer has a Commander.

Overall, I believe this is the weakest Season Premiere of The 100 to date, which is terribly disappointing given the fact that it’s the last one they’ve ever received. Even though we have yet to see the backdoor pilot (Rothenberg says it will be 708), it already feels like this final Season will serve more as a way to set up a show that will likely not take off the ground (because Rothenberg has successfully managed to upset every person in the show’s fanbase) than the sendoff to the existing characters and stories he’s spent 7 years building. It will be a terrible thing if that is indeed the case. Hopefully, based off of the title of this episode, The 100 will manage to make some sort of phoenix-esque ressurection. But for now, I don’t know if they have enough time to truly tell the story that Rothenberg wants to.

The 100 airs Wednesdays at 8/7c on The CW

Aprille’s episode rating: 🐝🐝

#The 100 #From the Ashes

10 notes · View notes