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kingofthe-egirls · 11 months ago

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BUTTERFLY: LUFFY x Y/N (modern au part 7)

modern au

(cw: mma!luffy, celebrity, dress shopping, flirty banter, food mention, interview w Teen Vogue reporter, reader is a camgirl)

(a/n: help)

Songs: “The Louvre” by Lorde

words: 1.4k

****

“I’m not askin’ what I look like,” Luffy drawls with a crooked smirk. His hands are loose in his pockets as he steps closer, space minimizing between his heated body and yours. “I’m askin’ if ya like whatcha see. Cmon, kitty, how’re the threads?”

He leers at you in his fitted black suit, paired with a deep red, satin button down the color of a dry cabaret sauvignon. A silver chain with a skull-and-crossbones hangs around his neck. It glitters between his exposed collarbones. You want to take it off with your teeth.

“Sexy.”

He snickers, and rushes back into the changing room. “Awesome,” is all he says as he finishes redressing.

You’re standing outside the velvet curtain holding the socks, tie, and pocket square that match the suit.

He adds a Rolex to the mix.

You both check out of the swanky menswear shop, and head down the sparkling strip to find you a dress.

****

You stand in the fitting room, obscured by a black door with a chalkboard sign that says “#2” in a curly, squiggly font.

You’d decided to hit one of the local thrift stores, decked out in miniature Calico Critter toys, porcelain tea sets, vintage dresses, and strange plants. Luffy seems comfortable enough, chatting with the elderly saleswoman at the counter.

You squirm.

You’re wearing a deep red velveteen dress with a gathered waist and a slit up the side. It’s heavy, and smells like mothballs. You shimmy out of it; the texture is abhorrent.

“How’s it goin’, dollface?”

Luffy asks you through the kitschy little door. His sandals scuff the uneven floorboards on the other side of the fitting room. You’re tangling your limbs in an emerald green

cocktail dress with too-tight sleeves.

“Struggling!”

You huff with an honest sigh.

“What’s wrong? Need my help?” He asks cheekily, and you snort.

“Not yet, Prince Charming.”

He laughs, but lays off the banter. It’s a sorta sweet balance that you two have found with each other.

Luffy knocks on the door.

“How’s this one? Saleslady said—,” he stops as you open the door, still half-dressed in a champagne gown. It’s pale pink with diamond shimmers. The sweetheart neckline dives between your breasts, tapered empire waistline revealing the goddess-like, Boticelli version of your pear-shaped body. The long, flowy skirt wraps around your legs in waves. There’s a subtle slit to your thigh, and you found a rose gold clutch to match.

You slowly turn, sweeping your hair to the side so he can zip the back of the slinky, incandescent gown.

His fingers are slow as he clips the zipper up your exposed back.

“What jewelry d’ya want?”

He asks, raspy.

****

You decide on a single, Swarovski swan pendent with a rose-quartz center. The wings of the silver swan are outstretched behind her, with a diamondesque eye sparkling at the center of her graceful face.

You spray Daisy by Marc Jacobs at your pulse points. You curl your hair. You apply eyeshadow, lip liner, and gloss. You contour and highlight: blush, false lashes, winged eyeliner, everything.

You stare at yourself in the mirror of Luffy’s luxurious bathroom.

Sparkling.

Glittering.

Insane.

****

The dinner lasts so long.

You find yourself picking at the fabric napkin in your lap: undoing scratchy threads as you fiddle.

There’s so much social labor.

You have no idea how your boyfriend does it. It’s so many hours of smiling, chatting, answering questions, social media marketing, and more.

Everything said is scrutinized. Laborious. Every single face you make has a chance to be photographed. Immortalized. Tweeted. Instagrammed.

Commented on.

You scrunch your nose to the side, staring down at your green tea sorbet. A dessert that is so light and refreshing actual tears spring to your eyes as you taste the light green ice.

The champagne is sweet.

Your stomach is sour.

Luffy is standing off to the side, doing an interview. The reporter is smiling, seemingly kind.

Luffy kicks ass at interviews.

The social media burnout seems to roll off his back. Like staring into flashing lights doesn’t dizzy his head. Like he can still focus through the humming buzz of food, conversation, drinks, and laughter.

You feel like a scared rabbit.

Someone bumps your elbow, and you squeak out a frozen gasp of terror. Someone laughs, and the tension leaves your body as you force yourself to breathe. You’re safe, here.

It’s just new, is all.

“Sorry bout that,” someone says, as they hover next to your seat. You force yourself to see past lights and sounds and system overload. Person. Individual. Someone is standing next to you and you must learn their name. “Is this seat taken?”

You shake your head, and shift so they have room to sit in Luffy’s vacant seat. They’re lovely: dressed in sky blue and silver accents.

“Maria.”

You smile wide at hearing her name, her pronouns, her career as a social media manager. She’s working at Teen Vogue, something you particularly respect. “Is it okay if I ask you some questions? It’s super interesting to see your social media presence as an egirl,” she smiles, “And I’d love to see what you have to say about it! It’s okay if you’re a little overwhelmed,” she allows. She had a gap between her front two teeth.

She is sparkling.

“Sure! I’m an open book, really. My social filter is all outta wack,” you admit, shyly. But you hope your open body language and softer voice help get the “friends” message across.

Expression. Communication.

Honesty.

Sweetness.

Swiftness.

She starts:

“So, how long has it been since you started camming?” She licks her lips, iPhone recording the conversation. She sets it on her knee, face up. She had a daisy-patterned pop socket.

“I started in 2020, once the pandemic started. I started an OnlyFans, and I haven’t really looked back since. Although, I take some breaks now and again.”

She smiles, “Breaks are healthy,” she assures you, as someone starts filming you over her shoulder. You scoop another bite of sorbet.

“So, what would you say is the most interesting thing about your career?”

“Mm!” You hum through a mouthful of green tea ice, “So many things! It’s so creatively expressive. I get to assign myself whatever roles I want,” you start bragging a little, “Since I choose whoever I wanna cosplay. It’s also so sweet to see what content people vibe with. Like, someone said they listen to my ASMR as they fall asleep! It’s amazing, seeing that someone sees you as their comfort content, y’know?” You smile, rambling a bit.

She smiles, though. She seems to enjoy listening. So you smile, too.

“Awesome, that’s super cool. What are some challenges about sex work?”

You nod, sober.

“The shame. People want to criticize me so much for showing my body onscreen, but burlesque has been around for centuries. The art of the striptease, the art of pornography, the skills of prostitution—it’s all so gorgeous. It’s got its shadow side, like everything, so when I speak about sex work as a career, I am always only ever speaking about consensual sex.”

She nods sagely, listening.

“So, um…ah—is it okay if I speak more on this?” You ask nervously. The napkin is scrunched into knots in your fists. The reporter—Maria—nods. She is smiling, and focused. Her eyes are deep brown, with fluffy eyelashes even without mascara.

She is not wearing makeup.

You smudge at your own lipstick, wishing you could swipe it off.

“Okay, so…it’s a way for me to flirt with strangers on the internet. It’s like, a very fun thing to do for me,” you smile, honestly. “And that’s how I met Monkey D. Luffy! Oh, I hope that’s okay to say,” you suddenly fret, social filter glitching out. “It’s so hard to understand censorship,” you confess, “I’m an adult performer so like…all the stuff I say is gonna be, like, eighteen plus. Or like, how do you decide what’s private and what’s public? It’s all so discomfortable,” you huff.

She smiles, laughing softly.

“I understand. Is there anything else you wanna say?” She has her hands folded in front of her, with several silver rings on her slender, piano-player fingers.

“Don’t say he met me through my day job, please.”

She meets your eyes, scanning.

“Seriously.”

She nods, satisfied.

“Thanks so much for your time, Miss Hero Butterfly!” She smiles, and stands up. Her dress rustled around her. She has a butterfly pendant in her hair. You smile, and stand to shake her hand.

“I love your butterfly necklace,” you say, grinning.

She winks.

“I wore it for you.”

****

#holy shit fuck christ god #sgsggaba #dumpster dive #kitty speaks #modern au #luffy x y/n #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #luffy x you #one piece modern au #luffy modern au

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lovemeian · 3 years ago

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sundress season—

characters ! midoriya izuku, bakugo katsuki, shoji mezo, kirishima eijiro x f!reader.

highly suggestive in parts esp. in: bakugo, fluff + my favourite season is sundress season + aged up characters, as always + all my boys are pro heroes now hehe + no spoilers, so feel free + kirishima out here acting like //sugar daddy// but that’s it lmao !

masterlist. ; taglist! ; talk to me, gush, say hi

MIDORIYA IZUKU—

mans would be blushing so intensely, someone help him, it’s a ripe watermelon. idek why i’m flaming him here at the very first sentence idek, i adore this boy, i do. anyways— it’s rare to have your boyfriend at home, always on patrol and working himself to the absolute limit. but when he spends an entire day to unwind, he unwinds. most of the time it’s just catching on sleep. you always try your best to make sure his sleep is content and maxed, making sure the covers are as floofy as they can be, calm lavender and mint scents diffuser in the room.

it was a sunday, and sundays are spent doing a lot of errands on your part, weekly grocery as one of the most important one. so you finish dressing up, picking the sundress you bought for this spring in a nice deep emerald with soft daisy patterns, wanting to look cute for the grocery store (as one does). your very first thought was how pretty it was, thinking immediately of your boyfriend and his bright green hair. you hitch up your hair with a clip, take your things, and gently pad over to your boyfriend snoring on the bed, on his stomach and to wake him up slowly.

“hon? i’m going to the grocery for a bit, d’you want anything?”

“mhm.” his eyes blink blearily, thick and almost sewn shut together. you sit on the side of the bed, smiling as you continue to run your fingers across his scalp. his groans are soft and content as he pulls back, smiling at you. “g’morning. you look nice, babe.” his eyes roam across your figure, his hand reaching across your waist and moulding the material of your dress between his fingers.

“thank you, but it’s afternoon actually. just about to go on a grocery run and i was going to ask what you wanted?”

“i’m coming!” he sits upright, so suddenly that vertigo rushed in and knocked him back down with a little oomph.

“whoa there, i don’t think you are, cowboy. you have to rest, it’s your day off.”

“nah, gotta challenge everyone who gives you eyes.” you made a face at him, but he’s already sitting back up and stretching deep, groaning at every sore muscle; his bright skin roughened through years of being a hero, littered with scars that you love kissing.

“you’re silly.”

he smiles, warm and blooming as he reaches over and kisses your forehead, softly rubbing your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “i’m in love, darling. and you’re too much of a catch for other people not think not to, and you’re too nice to tell them to fuck off.” his eyes turn mischievous. “also— i think i’m a really cute arm candy, hm?”

“you just want to show off my dress is the same colour as your hair!” you shout after him, entering the bathroom.

“of course!”

BAKUGO KATSUKI—

bakugo katsuki, top-tier number two hero, has promptly malfunctioned.

he’s been impatiently waiting for you by the car as you finished dressing up after saying ‘in a minute, calm your horses!’ in the last hour... until you came out of the house, scowl on your pretty face as you made sure the house was secure, and fixed your shoes on properly, scrambling to get to the car.

“you need to learn some fuckin’ patience— hey, why’re you cutting the engine off?” you ask as you finish buckling yourself up, adjusting your dress that hitched up from the entire struggle.

“we’re not going,” he grumbled, knuckles tight against the steering wheel.

you raised an eyebrow. “what do you mean, we’re not going? did you finally exploded the rest of your brain cells?” his jaw tightens but does nothing. you roll your eyes. “your mother’s waiting for us and she has as much patience as you. although, she does adore me, i don’t want her to smack you in the head as much as possible. your poor brain cells.”

he meets your gaze head on. “you’re being a brat.”

“i am not. why? ‘ya liking what you’re seeing?” you smirk, adjusting your seat, more than aware of his eyes unable to not flicker back to the dress you’re wearing. its a light yellowish cream with bright red camellia blossoms across crumpled hems with a thigh slit. you adjust your top, making his eyes dart to the tops of your breasts, right where a necklace he had gotten for you on a whim, a simple one with a k and a small ruby embedded on it.

he growls. “get back in.”

“katsu, really, you—”

but he grasped your face and moulded his lips to yours. it’s hot and wet, and you melt into his touch. he smirked at your dopey face as you broke from each other. “inside, baby. think we should put that dress to good use, hm?”

“oh, but i really like it,” you muttered. “it’s your colours after all.”

his eyes darkened. “we don’t have to take it off.” his thumb made slow circles on your sides, nose brushing against your ear. “i’ll be extra careful.”

SHOJI MEZO—

your boyfriend was so sweet, turning into a tomato as soon as he sees you come out from the train station. you don’t see him just yet, your eyes checking your phone, typing him a text, so he has a good few minutes to stare at you in what possibly be the prettiest outfit he’s ever seen you in. the dress flutters ever so briefly, cinched across the waist and featured white angels across lavender.

with one hand, he took a quick photo, reminding himself to put it as a wallpaper later, as he waved his hand as soon as your eyes come across the area he was in.

you wait in the crosswalk impatiently, half bouncing in your heels until the light turned green and he burst out laughing as you practically skipped towards him, shouting, “brace yourself, 'zo!” as you completely leaped into his arms, tying yourself like cherry knots around him as he caught you with an oomph! and a laugh. he spun you once, twice, until both of you are a giggling and pedestrian-annoying mess.

“alright, alright, that’s enough.” you patted him in the shoulder to get you down, but not before taking his primary hands to brace yourself to your toes, and give him a noisy smooch just to see his face burn bright red. you giggled at it. “ain’t you a pretty picture?”

he took your hand in his, admiring you in your dress and the love you were basking him in. “you’re prettier, sweetheart,” he said shyly. “the prettiest picture.”

“mmh. take lots of me later, m’kay?”

“always.” and that wasn’t a lie. you were mezo’s favourite subject, always the prettiest under his gaze.

KIRISHIMA EIJIRO—

the low whistle that your lover released brings the exact same colour of burgundy red to your cheeks, flushing at his appraisal as you try not to fidget or throw something at him. anything to hide under that appreciative, almost half hungry look.

“where are you going looking like that?” he blinked, his grin frozen. “are we— oh, shit is it our anniversary? is it your birthday? but your birthday’s not for another month, and the necklace i ordered isn’t going to arrive until—” he slapped a hand on his mouth as you smirked at him. “you heard nothing.”

you rolled your eyes at him as you sat next to him on the couch, his hands fast, pulling you to his lap before your butt could touch the fake leather, nestling you in his arms and hiding on the crook of your neck. you shivered at every rumbly hum that came out of him, leaving a trail of goosebumps across your skin.

“you’re so silly, ‘jiro.” you sigh, bringing your hand to pat his head and curl your fingers through his hair. “your hair’s almost fading. i was just going to hit the pharmacy after my lunch with the girls.”

“are you trying to one up one of ‘em? or all of ‘em?”

“no! why?”

“‘cos you’re going to make them feel bad lookin’ like this.” he smirks as he presses a particularly spongy kiss on your shoulder. you bat him away, tsking as he captures your hand and intertwines it with his on your lap.

“let me rephrase. you’re not silly, you’re stupid.”

“and you’re too pretty in my colours.” he kissed your neck, lightly sucking.

“stop that! if you leave a hickey, i swear.”

“alright, alright.” he releases you as you huff at him, crimson and flushed red, you re-adjusted your dress. he can’t stop looking at how nice you look in it. it really was his colours with the repeating patterns of black lillies and lighter shades of spider lilies. “take lots of pictures for me, will you? i’ll give you my card, order anything you girls want.”

made by lavi <3

taglist: @asaitashi, @jadasz, @encrytpta, @cafeous, @iworshipyelena,

#midoriya izuku x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #shoji mezo x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #midoriya fluff #bakugo fluff #shoji fluff #kirishima fluff #lovemeian.#lvmn.shorts

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allandoflimbo · 3 years ago

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Ashens (Part 24)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4,700

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Waging wars to shake the poet and the beat

I hope it's gonna make you notice

“…I’m in the military, sir…”

“…James, that’s my father, okay? If anything, let’s just be glad he didn’t kill you. He’s like that with everyone…And the soldier thing, he’s weird about that. I’m not sure why…”

Bucky lies awake in bed, fluffy pillow behind his head and one leg peeking out from the blankets, as random memories knack away at his brain in pulses. They weren’t new memories, but they were memories that he never looked at the way he was now.

He doesn’t know why now, he doesn’t know what triggered it, but they were clicking together.

After years of replaying the same moments in his head, there was a nagging feeling that was telling him that there was something not adding up.

He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s seeing things differently, if he’s feeling things differently.

Whatever it was, he knew there was something…off.

There was something off about Daisy’s story about her dad’s story, something was off about the way he was against Bucky fighting in the military, and her death was coinciding so much with his capture.

He doesn’t like the feeling in his stomach as he remembers.

When Bucky asked about her brother and what that whole commotion back at the club was she was blatantly honest with him.

“My father’s not a good guy. He’s been wanting some something from one of these performers that was suppose to be there last night, but turns out they weren’t even on the set list. He had lied about it, we don’t know where he is.”

Bucky raises a brow at this, “You do his dirty work for him?”

“No, I don’t like to get involved in that. It’s a dangerous lifestyle. I have to think about my future family. I was only there yesterday because my brother wanted to get me out of the house for once.”

Bucky isn’t too gleam on the fact that her family are borderline criminals and that she basically supports it, and for a fraction of a second he almost doesn’t buy it, but he decides to mention this later on, not wanting to ruin their moment.

Bucky shifts his leg as he continues to remember that conversation. Why was he not against it? Why did he never question the crimes? Was he that distracted by her?

Bucky smiles at her comment, but then his brows furrowed together in an adorable way that made Daisy giggle and bring her hand to his cheek, “What is it, James?”

What is it, James?

Bucky looks over to see you laying next to him, sat up with your back against the headboard reading some book with a beige cover.

You hadn’t taken notice of his self discomfort yet, emerged in your reading, tucking your bottom lip into your mouth.

Why was he remembering all of this now? Why was he feeling sick?

When they pulled away she slowly dragged her thumb across his plump bottom lip. He watched her like she was the most gorgeous and interesting thing on the planet.

“James?” He responded with a sound on confirmation and she continued, “do you think we are moving too fast?”

He grabbed her hand that was on his face and for a fraction of a moment she thought that that was it, they were over. This was clearly too unrealistic. But instead he brought her hand up over both his lips and he kissed her gingerly.

“Yes.” He whispered behind her hand, making sure he was making direct eye contact with her.

Her face dropped. “Yes?” Her voice was worried, cautious.

He started trailing kisses down her hand, her wrist, her forearms. He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck making her groan.

It wasn’t that Daisy didn’t like being pampered but she wanted to take this very seriously. With a reluctant sigh - because what he was doing to her flesh just felt so good - she delicately removes her arm from Bucky’s grasp. He narrowed his eyes as she moved away towards the head board, suddenly wondering if maybe he said the wrong thing.

Her eyes trickled his features and down his perfect little nose.

“I knew it since the moment I laid my eyes on you. That’s how you know it’s real. This isn’t crazy, it’s ludicrous. But it works for us. I want to be with you.”

After his little speech Daisy looked him dead in the eye, not batting one lash.

“Then come have dinner with my family.”

Was it too fast? He had barely known her and she was asking him to meet her family. Criminals.

But why would she give away such dire information if it were true?

Bucky sat up slowly, as if if he were to move too quickly, the bed would collapse underneath him.

His eyes had a far away look in him, and he was as pale as he felt.

You feel him shift and your eyes flicker up to him.

You frown.

Her blue eyes glisten with gentle tears, probably thinking the same exact thing. None of it still feels real.

Her, she, doesn’t feel real.

They spent nearly every night together just talking about what Bucky would do when he came back home after camp. Things like how they would have to go see the stars on the back of an outskirts farmhouse, how they would have to go to every club in the city and laugh their night away, how he would take her to coney island with him and Steve and show her a “good time” on the ferris wheel, and how they would definitely have to meet her family.

“They’re great, you’ll love them.” She had said as they laid in bed together just hours before, merely cuddling with clothes on.

“Oh, come on doll, even your Dad?”

Daisy hesitated for a moment and her hand that was rubbing his chest stopped suddenly.

Bucky noted this and they met eyes.

Bucky feels his heart palpitate and he opens and closes his right hand, sitting up.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” You ask softly, closing your book.

“Dad has been gone for four weeks and I don’t know why. Jimmy has gone with him- it’s just me and mother. I overheard her saying something about Germany but I’m not quite sure.. Or maybe it was something else. Though none of that matters to me, James- I want you. Please come home to me.”

For some reason, a chill ran down his back as he reread the words “something about Germany”.

Like an awful memory that has never happened, he sees a child in front of him. It was a little girl and she screamed in agony for mercy. She was getting strangled to death by his own hand, a silver glint caught his eye-

“James!”

“Bucky.”

Your voice pulls him out of his trance for just a moment.

He looks up to you, your eyes interlacing in a silent conversation of understanding.

He was revealing something to himself and you could tell that whatever that was it was leaving him overcome by feelings.

At the end of the day, he knows that he’s just insanely protective of Steve. Which is why his arm instinctively goes around him when Rogers almost gets hit by a speeding vehicle that abruptly stops to halt in front of them on the curb. With his mind far away, he hadn’t realized they were already standing on the sidewalk in front of one bright sign labeled Cotton Club.

Had Bucky known better, he would’ve had him on his left.

After that introduction, the two boys look over to the object that almost killed them.

It was pure black, the countless lights coming from the surrounding buildings and cars bouncing off its surface. The rain must’ve made it even shinier, the lights made a reflection so bright that it had everyone staring. Men looked in awe and a young paper boy, standing on the corner working over time, wondered if that would someday be his future.

With a look of disgust, Steve was repulsed by the obscurity of the man’s driving having nearly hit him. He wondered why people had no respect and he desperately wanted to punch his face in. Either that or give him a pep talk about general safety.

“What a twit.” He snarls, dusting off his small suspenders and kicking the invisible debris off his lapels.

Bucky’s face held something different. It explained why the woman staring had looked on in pure jealousy. He stared forward completely emotionless. He was neither annoyed at the fact that he almost just got run over and killed and nor in obsession over the Duesenberg J.

It was the beautiful goddess emerging from the passenger seat that caught his full attention.

On her left hand was a pearl and diamond bracelet and she used it to skim over the top of the priceless car door for leverage to push herself gracefully up from the leather seat. Her other hand was wrapped up in a prestige white glove. It held onto the hem of her silver sparkling gown, a long white cigar between her digits. Her gorgeous dress looked heavy, you could tell it was so properly made and expensive because it must’ve weighed as much as her petite self. The reason being that it hugged her body at just the perfect places, showing off her curves gracefully.

Her perfect blonde hair was pulled slick back by a diamond hair clip to the side in huge voluminous waves. The dress showed just enough back, the material dipping down towards the floor, the dip ending just above her bottom. The entire thing was held by two tiny silver straps on her shoulders.

In a sentimental Mood by Duke Ellington seemed to have played perfectly in sync with the exact moment she shut the door behind her. She looked up to read the sign, her perfect profile looking up in awe.

Bucky stands up from the bed, back rigid and face hard with anger.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He swallows thickly, gaze going towards you again.

He doesn’t know why he keeps looking at you.

Ironically, beneath his anger and betrayal, he also began to feel embarrassment.

He’s momentarily startled out of his trance when he feels a small hand grab his elbow. He looks down and his eyes meet a small concerned Steve. Well, to be fairly honestly, he looked more pissed than concerned.

Bucky doesn’t feel the patience to deal with talking anything out, he’s too busy thinking about Daisy. But he feels like he should at least say something so he can get everyone off his back, “What is it?”

Steve looks at him likes he’s crazy and then manically gestures towards the entrance of the club, probably pointing to where Daisy just left through.

“Bucky, what the heck was that? Who was that? You know her?”

“I didn’t know her. No.” Bucky doesn’t realize he’s saying it out loud.

He’s shaking his head to himself, mumbling.

“Bucky, who are you talking to?” You’re growing even more concerned by the second now.

The silence was broken by his strong voice.

“You’re real.”

She smiles in a way that makes him smile too. It was contagious and bright. He caresses her skin one more time.

He felt her own hand come over his and she whispers, “I’m real.”

“Not real.”

You are more than concerned at this point.

“What are you talking about?”

“Maybe it was the fact that my body had finally developed into a women’s body. My breasts were now fully perked and my legs were long and porcelain gorgeous; all I knew was they figured I could be put to good use.”

He shook his head and Bucky blinked away heavy tears.“I-“

The pretty woman rolled her eyes and crossed her legs, revealing a long slit that ran up her dress. It was just enough skin for Bucky’s hand to get sweaty.

He waited until the perfect opportunity when the man had walked towards the direction of the stage, making his way into the back behind the curtain.

“It wasn’t real.”

“You do his dirty work for him?”

“It wasn’t real.”

“My father’s not a good guy.”

Bucky remembers them poking him with IV drops and then sticking his head in a blender. His owns screams fill his head. It was so painful.

“Reason unknown, ongoing investigation"

“I wasn’t going to let you keep her. She enticed you. She won you. It was always supposed to be you.”

“…blonde 21 year old was found shot…”

“Daisy,” he whispered. He traced her features with his hand, and just like that the fear escaped his eyes, and instead of scared he was now feeling complete love and he was ready because knew this is what he wanted forever. He wanted her, “Will you marry me?”

“…Her family has been under investigation after her father’s disappearance —…”

“But you jeopardized it, Soldat. It wasn’t real.”

The memories are sucked out of him like a vacuum and his dark eyes meet yours, again, across the bed.

You had never seen his pupils so blown before.

You were terrified.

Your eyes go down to his flesh hand that is twitching against his thigh.

“Bucky.” You say cautiously, one more time. It was almost like you were afraid to get closer to him.

“I—“ his voice was hoarse.

He looks away and clears his throat. He blinks away the heavy daze, allowing it all to sink in until it settles in his stomach in a surprising pool of acceptance.

He sees you again and for some reason he feels okay.

It scares him.

It scared him how you took something that had been bothering him for so long, away that quickly.

In that moment he knows.

“I remembered something.” Your eyebrows came together suddenly. Nearly moments ago he looked heartbroken but now he just looked shocked and angry.

“What did you remember? I thought you had your memories back. In Wakanda.”

“I-I did,” he squeaks out running a hand through his hair, “maybe I’m just remembering differently, or adding pieces together, I don’t know, I can’t tell. It has to be, because it makes sense. It makes so much sense now, and I can’t—and she—”

“Bucky you’re rambling,” he stops and you continue to look at each other. His face drops all traces of anger and it softens, “Talk to me, I’m right here.” You whisper.

Bucky looks down at you and nods. No hesitancy.

“Give me your hands.” You say, reaching for him. He doesn’t hold back from doing so, and once you have his hands in yours, you pull him up onto the bed so he’s kneeling on it next to you.

Bucky takes a few minutes to compose himself before he says it:

“I think Daisy and her family were Hydra.” He says it like he’s afraid of his own words.

As if every word in that phrase was a curse word.

Somehow, it relieves him.

His chest feels light, shoulders worn. He can breathe.

+ + +

“I should’ve known it was too fast. Too perfect,” you’re also stunned as he tells you everything, his hands still in yours, “but—but I don’t think she was always hydra. I think she wanted out when I was captured and they killed her for it.”

You don’t deny it, that hurts. Despite never knowing the girl and secretly holding envy for her, it pains you.

“Oh, Bucky.”

He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing together.

“But it was a lie. She enticed me, she fucking—“ Bucky sucks in a deep breath, “she was trying to lure me in. There was nothing real about it.” He says the word like it’s venom on his lips.

You feel him rub his thumb over the back of your hand.

“You don’t know that -”

He shakes his head again, “She was Hydra!” He doesn’t say it angrily as much as he says it in a way to announce it to himself.

He needed to say it out loud. He needed to let it sink in.

You watch Bucky as he becomes completely numb, and somehow free, in front of you.

For some reason you expected more heartbreak from him for discovering something so horrible about a woman he claimed he loved so much, a woman he wanted to marry, but instead all you got from him was anger and acceptance.

Little did you know, Bucky was in the same boat as you.

Why wasn’t he as heat shattered as he’d expect?

“I-“ he’s speechless as he looks around, trying to find something, but he does’t know what.

You think you’re more shocked than him and you quickly grab his arm, bringing him against you for a tight hug.

He hugs you back immediately, hand running up your shoulder blade and onto the back of your hair.

Minutes pass by. Many minutes.

“It was all a lie,” he whispers still holding onto. you, “All of it. I really was alone. I thought I finally had someone, but—It wasn’t real.”

You don’t know what to say as you run your hand up the back of his head.

It’s not until you pull him in tighter that he realizes it.

It was you.

You were there reason this didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. His heart no longer wanted to be with someone who was long gone.

It wanted to stay here.

Here.

He never thought he would ever feel this way ever again, and he never thought he would trust this hard ever again.

Realizing truth relived him of buried pain, and he wanted you to keep holding him, to keep helping him go through this.

He says your name softly.

“Yes?”

“I want to talk about everything.”

You stiffen for a moment as you let his words sink in. You weren’t exactly sure what he was talking about.

“What are you talking about?” You ask.

“All of it. Everything that I did. I need to get it out, I can’t keep doing this, holding it in, keeping it inside —”

The euphoria through your blood is addicting.

“Tell me.”

He loved slow dancing.

He loved the Yankees.

He loved math and Howard Stark.

He went to the Stark Expo every year.

He loved The Hobbit and he loved jazz.

He loved New York City.

He loved Brooklyn the most.

He misses flat hats.

He loved telling jokes.

His mother died when he was young.

His sister was taken away from him.

He cried when he couldn’t see her.

His father died not too long after.

He never enlisted despite his love for the military.

He was drafted.

He experienced World War II but on the enemy side.

He fought with Hitler’s and Hydra’s men.

He was loved by the KGB.

He loved Prague.

He trained the girls in the red room.

He remembers every young girl.

He was told to kill four kids on a mission once in Bucharest.

He was tormented, beaten raw, and kept in a concrete cell between cryo periods.

He was only occasionally fed, most years spent asleep.

He was treated like an animal. They tied him to the wall once in the cell, with a chain around his neck.

He was brain washed.

He was sexually assaulted by Hydra.

He doesn’t remember if he was raped, which could be his brain’s way of protecting himself from more trauma.

He reminds you that loved Howard Stark.

He killed Howard Stark.

He killed Maria Stark.

He was the one that stole the super soldier serum from the Stark’s and provided it to Hydra.

He was the fist of Hydra.

He killed many other good men. Over two dozen assassinations.

He killed JFK.

He never wanted to do any of it.

He remembers all of it.

They named him a hero on the Wall of Valor before S.H.I.E.L.D fell.

He was taken into Wakanda, freed of his trigger words.

He still loved New York City.

He was pardon him, despite everything.

They named him an Avenger.

He remembers it all.

You’re laying down facing each other and you continue to watch him as he tells you everything.

It’s one of the most surreal experiences of your life and you find yourself in total awe.

This was the Bucky Barnes you had been longing to see. This was the man you knew was hidden beneath layers of hurt and anger.

You had seen it before he even told you.

The fact that he even trusted you enough to be this transparent with you is what makes you so happy.

His eyes brightened as he played with a string on the blanket between you.

“And Friends,” his voice is small and there’s a little smile on his mouth. Your heart swells as you watch it, “I love Friends.”

You bite your tongue as you smile.

Bucky stared at you, just as amazed at himself as he was at you. He couldn’t believe he told it all to you.

It was as if Daisy’s image had begun to dissolve and he was finally seeing clearly.

He didn’t hate you. He never hated you.

His fingers peak out slowly to take a hold of your pinky.

It was the opposite. He wanted you.

He feels himself breaking when you pull away from his touch. His smile falls.

“I’m proud of you,” you say quietly, sitting up again, “For finally talking about it.” You mean it, “Thank you.”

It takes him a few seconds to eventually look away and he turns onto his back. Bucky drapes an arm over his stomach, letting out a long breath of contentment.

He felt free.

To do what?

He looks over at you again as you pull your book back out.

This. This is what freedom got him. You.

But it you weren’t his. He clears his throat.

“How are things with your boyfriend?”

You don’t like talking about Pietro with Bucky.

“It’s fine,” you answer anyway, “We only had one date. And I got sick, so hopefully the next one will be better.”

Bucky swallows thickly. Why was he feeling like this? He should be happy for you. You wanted this. You deserved this.

“What do you plan to do when it’s time for us both to leave and go back?” He asks.

You don’t miss the way he mentions both of you to leave and your eyes quickly flicker to him.

“I don’t know yet,” you say hoarsely, filled with unexpected relief.

+ + +

Bucky doesn’t remember experiencing this kind of happiness since he was nineteen and him and Steve went to go see a baseball game after scoring a date with two pretty girls on the F train.

He’s happy.

Ashen peaks up at him from behind dark lashes, smiling so hard his eyes peak up at the side, turning them into thin slits. Bucky’s aren’t too far off as he mimics the boy’s laughter.

“Connect four?” Bucky asks, chuckling.

“Yeah, you’ve gotta try it. It’s so fun.” The Ashens says happily, pulling out the little game from underneath his bed. Bucky wants to ask him why he has it hidden, but he doesn’t. He just reminds him that they need to stay quiet, “plus, it’s the only game I have anyway. But it’s fun Mr. Bucky.”

“Haha, alright lets try it.” Bucky says.

They sit across from each other on the floor, setting up the little game and dividing their colored chips. Ashen’s goes first, dropping in a yellow one.

Bucky picks up a red one with his flesh hand and drops it right next to the yellow. They continue for a bit until Ashens notices Bucky isn’t connecting his colors.

“No, you have to try to get a straight line and connect it!” He laughs, “you suck at this."

“Oh, no! What did I do?” Bucky exclaims, laughing.

“You’re not very smart for an Avenger.” Ashens remarks.

“Okay,” Bucky points at him playfully, smiling, “That’s mean.”

“I’m sorry but it is true.”

“Cut me some slack.” Bucky says, smiling.

They play for a little longer until Ashens ends up beating him.

Bucky sticks his tongue out at the boy, but smiles. He eventually caught on to the game and let him win. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Mr. Bucky,” Ashen says after he slides the game back under his head. He brings his legs up to his chest and hugs them, "Will you tell me now why you are here to save me?”

Bucky licks his lip and sighs. He looks out Ashens' high rise window and then back to him again. “Not yet.”

“Should I be afraid.”

“No. I won’t let anything happen you. I promise.”

Ashens doesn’t say anything as he lets his Mike Wazowski slippers hit each other.

“Do you have any kids? Like my age?”

The question surprises Bucky, and for a moment a feeling of longing hits him. “No. I don’t.”

“Aww okay.”

Bucky stares at Ashens little sad face and his heart breaks.

“I always wanted to, though,” Bucky whispers, “But that was years ago.”

“When you were in world war one?”

Bucky smiles.

“Two, not one, but yeah,” it’s not a lie, Bucky knows that if his loved would’ve went a different way, he would have definitely had kids. To know he could never go back to such simplicity broke his heart, “Something like that.”

There was something, that even so many months later, still bothered Bucky. It was something so small, and it probably didn’t really affect you as much as it affected him, but it was something you said to him.

It was one of your many fights and the way you had spatted at him about buying you plan B after you had sex.

He didn’t want to burden you. What you two had done had been irresponsible. An atmosphere like this was no place and time for an unwanted baby.

You weren’t ready for one, let alone his.

At the time, it wasn’t that he wouldn’t want the baby, if you were to have gotten pregnant, he would have loved that child with everything. He was thinking about you.

He hated to think that he gave you that pill as a gesture to say that he wanted nothing to do with you.

If so, you were wrong.

He wanted you to be happy, just smart.

He cared about you.

And now, possibly more.

As he continues to watch Ashens giggling over his slippers, that feeling of longing washes over Bucky again.

He knows he needs to tell you.

+ + +

You still weren’t feeling well. Maybe it was your nerves. The end of the mission was getting closer by each day and you never expected you’d have to leave with a little kid. You still hadn’t met Ashens, but Bucky says he’s a delight.

Ashens has changed him. You took notice immediately and it made you happy. This whole experience would be good for him.

After Bucky had poured out his heart to you, you knew you needed to get away again. That was the dance now. You get pulled, you take a step back. You couldn’t let yourself go there anymore, no matter how hard it was.

Pietro would be the driving force to help you.

You just wish Bucky would stop doing things that he probably realized he wasn’t even doing. The way he touches your face and your hand, or some times the way he looks at you, was not appropriate for two fuck buddies who stopped…fucking.

You were still convinced that he wanted you two to go your separate ways at the end of this mission. Him indirectly saying he was going to walk out with you made you happy, it could’ve been Ashens that helped him have a change of heart, whatever it was, this thing between you had to dissolve anyway.

You couldn’t keep doing that to himself, even when he would blur your lines.

You really wished he would stop doing that.

That night you after the ball, you were almost sure that he was developing feelings for you - finally - it’s why you tried to get him to finally tell you why the kiss bothered him.

Bucky never told you the truth, and you were too tired to keep digging.

You were glad that was the last time.

It was over. All of it was over.

Your stomach churns again and you decide to make yourself some tea and head to bed.

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#bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #tfatws fanfiction #winter soldier fanfic #Bucky Barnes x reader series #enemies to lovers #sharing bed #fwb

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neonacity · 3 years ago

Text

HYACINTHE | Chapter 1: Jaemin x Reader

Summary:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones.

Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul's top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word.

So why, then, does he always find himself in the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

BLACK DAISIES MASTERLIST

___________________________________________________________

I've known him for almost a year and a half when it happened.

The small bell of the cafe's back door dinged so hard, I thought it would get ripped off from the wall. I looked up, eyes wide with panic and hands still wrapped around the cold corners of a metal tray when a head of jet black hair appeared on the entrance. It took me half a second to register what I was seeing before I found myself flying to his side in a heartbeat.

"Jaemin! Oh my god, what the hell is going on!"

My first thought was that he was injured. He was doubled over and I quickly hunched to his level so that I could peer at his face. He looked paler than usual, beads of sweat stuck on his forehead, eyes glazed with a slight look of panic as he tried to keep himself from falling over. I threw out my hands to hold him by the shoulders and that's when my gaze caught it; the small black package that he quickly tried to hide inside his bomber jacket before I could even fully see what it is. I didn't give it much attention back then—I was far too focused in trying to see if he was hurt anywhere to worry about anything else. When his gaze finally focused on me, I thought I saw guilt there.

"I need your help. Sorry, I don't know where else to go."

My brows furrowed together.

"What the hell is going on—"

He reached out for one of my hands helping him up and squeezed it tight.

"Please don't ask me questions. Just—can you trust me?"

"I don't understand—" my voice started to rise. Is he hurt? Bleeding? In pain?

"Please."

My lips parted then pursed again.

"Okay."

Jaemin tugged me closer to him and threw a panicked look outside. He then pulled me farther into the now closed cafe, back into the storage room, the location of which he shouldn't even know in the first place.

"Let me hide here for a bit. Just a bit."

That encounter was my second mistake since meeting Na Jaemin.

I should have asked questions.

Lots of them.

___________________________________________________________

The first mistake happened about a year and half ago.

"Welcome to Brick and Beans, what would you like to have today?"

I plastered on my practiced smile and looked at the stranger in front of me without actually looking at him. Working in the service industry sure does things to your head once you get used to it. Despite having to deal with people all the time, you also get to develop a kind of numbness and detachment to human interaction. A face just becomes a face, a customer simply becomes just another passing responsibility. I tried to blink a few times to make myself seem more interested on the boy standing in front of my counter, patiently waiting for him to give me his order so we can go ahead and get on with both our business.

"Uh… I'll have an iced americano. No water. Eight shots of espresso."

My lips parted and curled on the sides to give him my service smile. My hand automatically reached out for the plastic cups stacked on my side while my other whipped out the marker clipped on the pocket of my apron to scribble his order.

"That's one iced americano, no water, eight—"

I stopped and blinked once. Twice. My gaze shot up at the customer in front of me again and really looked at him for the first time.

"I'm sorry, that's eight shots of espresso?"

He nodded, seemingly unbothered by my question.

"No water?"

A slight shake of the head.

"...eight shots. Of espresso."

"Eight shots, yes."

For a moment we both just stared at each other. He was looking at me patiently, probably only slightly weirded out by my question while I gave him a look that's a mix of worry and disbelief. Working as a barista has exposed me to my own fair share of weird coffee requests, but this is by far the one that takes the cake.

I softly cleared my throat and turned my attention back to the words I was scribbling on the cup. As strange as it is, I really am not in the position to judge a customer.

"That'll be 4.50 dollars. Is that for here?"

"Make it to go."

"Got it. I'll get you your order soon…"

"Jaem."

I smiled and scribbled his name on the cup.

Foot traffic was pretty slow on the cafe so I was able to quickly finish the order on autopilot. As I worked on mixing, I found myself humming softly to myself, my tune shifting into short whistles every time I would dunk an espresso shot down into that cup. I didn't even realize that the customer didn't bother taking a seat on one of the empty tables, opting to lean on the wall by the side instead, hands shoved in the pockets of his jogs as his eyes followed me.

"One iced americano for Jaem," I called out and pushed the packed drink into his hand. He handed me his card and I quickly worked on swiping it.

"You sure like your coffee explosive, huh?" I shot him a question for the sake of making small talk as I punched some buttons on my terminal.

"It's the eight shots, isn't it?"

I answered by giving him a shrug and a smile.

"It's the first time I ever did one like it. I can only imagine how it tastes like."

His lips slightly quirked into a smile. A...really cute smile if I might add.

"Is there anything wrong?"

"It's really good."

"Sure, Jaem. I'm not here to judge," I gave him a wink before handing back his card and receipt. "Well, thank you for dropping by. We hope to see you here again." He took both wordlessly and slipped them on his wallet.

I was waiting for him to walk off with his drink with the practiced polite smile plastered on my face again. He turned, coffee in hand, took about five steps, before turning to me again. I blinked in mild confusion as he placed his cup back on my counter.

"Actually… I'll have it here."

___________________________________________________________

"I'm not going to try your death coffee, Jaemin."

I didn't look up from the page I was reading but I could feel it, that deadly pout and puppy eyes combo drilling onto the side of my head. I flipped a page of my textbook over and I heard a sigh come from the boy beside me.

"I bought it for you. You said you need to finish a paper tonight."

"I do. That doesn't require me to be awake for the next week and a half," I answered back with a quirk of my lips as I finally looked up to meet his gaze. We were seated at one of the far tables of the cafe for my 15 minute break, away from the handful of customers scattered on the smattering of tables and high chairs. This has become quite a routine already… but how it started, I can't really explain.

Ever since that first order, Jaemin had made it his routine to drop by almost regularly. At first the banter started similar to how a regular customer and his favorite barista would have, but since he would always come and visit during slow hours, we would always have more time for longer conversations. Casual talk turned into light-hearted jokes, and finally into a kind of banter that comes with familiarity with each other. Slowly, I came to know the complexities of Na Jaemin, and boy, is he an enigma and a paradox rolled in one.

You never really know what to expect with him. There are days when he would be a bursting ball of energy—most of the time when he would order his drink from hell—but there are also moments when he would be quiet and reserved. I found it odd at first, but slowly accepted it since it didn't really hurt me in the first place. In fact, if I am going to be completely honest, I find this kind of personality set working for me. Imagine gaining two friends, except they're only in one body.

But that's not the only odd thing in our dynamic, too. If someone would ask me now to describe the kind of friendship I have with him, I wouldn't really know how to explain it. We joke together, laugh together, sometimes even tease the crap out of each other like we've known each other for years. We work well together, but at the same time… I know almost next to nothing about him. I don't know his address, who his other friends are, if he's going to school or not… hell, I don't even know what his number is. Outside of this cafe and his regular visits, I don't have anything to prove that he actually exists. He didn't share, and I also didn't ask.

Until today.

"Fine. I'm just going to drink this then."

I gasped before shooting him a squinted glare.

"You are going to burn a hole in your stomach, I swear to god—"

He simply shrugged and made a huge show of sipping the previously untouched tears of Lucifer.

I reached out to tug at the hood of his jacket in an attempt to call him out when I noticed it. His hair was initially masking it at first but now I could see it in full view: a purple bruise just on the side of his eye, almost to his temple.

"Oh my god, Jaemin. What happened?" I asked in a hurry as I tried to take a closer look at it. His expression changed in a heartbeat as he realized what I saw and he quickly leaned back and pulled the hoodie again over his head.

"That's—it's nothing."

"It looks so bad. How did you get that?"

He didn't answer. His eyes avoided my own and his hand gripped the plastic cup between us a little bit tighter.

"Did you get into a fight?" I pushed, gently this time.

His gaze moved to meet mine again for a few seconds. It's obvious he was contemplating what and how to answer.

"Yeah… I got into a bit of a tumble with some friends."

I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned back on my seat. He threw me a look that silently asked what else I want from him.

"Look. You don't tell me shit but at least I know enough to be sure you are lying."

Jaemin looked away and started tapping his finger against the table.

"Why are you… why do you even want to know?"

I looked at him incredulously for a few seconds before leaning over.

"Because you're my friend and I want to make sure you are okay."

"I am okay."

"Your black eye says otherwise."

"Come on, don't push this. Can't we be friends without," he waved his hand between us. "This?"

"Jaemin, I don't even know who you are."

That made him stop. He stared at me for what felt like a full half minute and that's when I saw it for the first time. The dilemma in his eyes.

"It was because of work…"

The look of confusion I made must have been so intense that he quickly tried to jump over it.

"Work—why, what do you—"

"I'm sorry, but that's really all that I can tell you."

The sound of desperation in his tone wasn't lost on me. He looked so torn that I felt almost guilty for pressing.

"Fine… I won't ask again… As long as you are sure you're fine."

He peered at me once more as if assessing if he was finally off the hook.

"So...we're still friends?"

"Huh?"

"You and me… we're still friends?"

"Uh, yes…"

The look of relief on his face made me smile despite myself. He caught it and he made it a point to answer it with his best eye roll.

"Don't laugh at me. I don't know how to do friends."

"You're so cute~"

"Shut up."

And that was the exact day I decided—I'm never going to let Na Jaemin feel alone again.

Chapter 2

#na jaemin #jaemin #jaemin x reader #nct mafia #nct mafia au #mafia!jaemin #jaemin imagines #nct mafia fic

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stayatiny · 3 years ago

Text

Keeper~ Yandere!J-hope

Pairings – Serial killer!Yandere! Hoseok x small!female reader

Warning(s)- Strong Language, murder, slight daddy kink, mentions of blood, kidnapping, TW - needles

Summery – Hoseok is a cold-blooded killer and doesn’t care about others. But what happens when his potential victim becomes his obsession.

A/N – This is dark. If you are uncomfortable with these dark subjects, please do not read.

A/N part 2 - I will slowly be adding BTS

“You know, Y/N, you need someone to walk you home. The police found two more bodies today,” Luna said, taking some roses and arranging them in a vase. I cleaned up the falling petals from the other flowers in the shop.

“Come on its still daylight. I have to go to the convenience store before heading home. No one gets kidnapped during the day.” Luna picked her head up from her arrangement frowning.

“Y/N, there is a killer out there and you still don’t need to go alone out there. Why don’t you ask your brother to go with you,” she asked. I huffed.

“He is stuck up his girlfriend’s butt that I haven’t seen him in about a month or so.” She nodded in agreement.

“Just go while its still daylight okay,” she said, picking up some daisies. I nodded and headed out the door.

I’ve been watching her for a week now. This is the longest I’ve ever stalked any of my victims. Tonight, will be her last. My urge to kill stronger than ever. I got up from the bench and followed the petite girl from a far. Her size alone made me hard. Her hair flowing in the wind as she walked. This is the first time I felt bad about killing such a pretty girl. I might just have to keep her.

After getting to back to the apartment, I lock the door and head right into the kitchen. I was starving. I placed my purse and bags on the counter before heading back into my bedroom when I realize the window was open.

“I thought I shut this thing before work,” I said a loud. I shook my head and shut it. That’s what happens when I have to open the shop with Luna. I sighed and headed back into the kitchen to start making food and of course dropping practically everything that I touched.

Hiding in the closet a bedroom was normal occurrence for me. But I never realize how loud this girl would be out of all the time I spent watching her. That would have to change once I bring her home. I made sure that syringe with a heavy sedative was still ready for when I strike. I couldn’t let Y/N know where our home was going to be located. I couldn’t risk her knowing anything about where I kill all the people that I have. Once I hear music playing in the kitchen I quietly and expertly opened the door. I walk down the quiet hall seeing that he back in turned to me. Quickly uncapping the needle, pushing it into her neck. She squealed until I put my hand over her mouth.

“Shh it’s alright. You’re just going to sleep,” I say into her ear. She started to mumble and squirm until the sedative took effect. I took the needle from her neck and recapped it. I place it in my pocket so no evidence in left behind. I carried her to the van that I had hidden in the back-alley way of her apartment building.

I crack my eyes to see a dark room with the sun setting outside the window. I try to turn my body and get up, but my body is to sore to move.

“Don’t try to move to much. I might have given you too much.” I hear a man’s voice from the other side of the room. I gasp as he got closer to the bed. I try to move away from his touch. He sits on the edge of the bed then grabbed my face underneath my chin.

“I said don’t move. You need to listen,” he growled. I wanted to scream but I knew that he wouldn’t let me get away with it.

“Who are you?” He smiles but this isn’t just genuine smile it was creepy feeling.

“Call me Hoseok or Daddy.” He grabbed my hand and helped me to a sitting position. I looked around the room and see some knives with blood still on them on the wall along with clippings of all the murders that was taking place around the town. My blood runs cold as I sit next to him. He’s the murderer.

“Here drink some water.” He then opened a water bottle. I hesitated before taking a drink. He’s kept me alive this long he may not want to hurt me. I look back at the wall and took another drink.

“Don’t worry I won’t use them on you unless you force me too,” he said helping me drink some more water.

“Good girl,” he whispered, pulling me closer to his body. I tried to cringe away, but he held my waist tight warning me not to move.

“You’re so pretty. You’re going to be a beautiful bride.” The man kissed my head. Help me someone…

#yandere bts #bts jhope #yandere jhope #bts fanfic #jhope fanfic

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ironwhumper359 · 3 years ago

Note

“Just a short little prompt fill” I said to myself. “Something to work on in my downtime between longer fics.” Oops I made a whole au and I’m attached to it now, lol.

14: “Good news! I brought you a friend.”

CW: Pet whump, creature whump, fantasy au, restraints, referenced conditioning, child whumper

---

“More tea, Daisy?” Matilda asked, holding up her porcelain teapot. Daisy eyed her for a moment, and Matilda giggled. “You can answer, silly!”

“Yes please, Lady Matilda,” Daisy said immediately.

“Here you go!” Matilda said, tipping the pot forward to mime pouring. “One lump of sugar or two?”

“Two please, my lady,” Daisy said, and Matilda nodded primly, picking up a small set of tongs.

She mimed dropping two lumps of sugar into Daisy’s cup, then one into her own. She put the cup to her lips and pretended to drink, grinning when Daisy did the same.

“I have to say, Daisy, your wings are looking particularly ex-quis-ite today!” Matilda chirped, slowly sounding out the larger word she’d often heard her mother use at grown-up garden parties. “I love how the light catches them just so!”

An expression Matilda couldn’t quite read flashed through her fairy’s eyes for a moment, but before she could figure it out Daisy’s smile was back, wider and brighter than before.

“Thank you, Lady Matilda.”

“You’re welcome!” Matilda said cheerfully, swinging her legs a bit as she pretended to take another sip of tea. “Oooh, ooh, guess what!”

“What is it, Lady Matilda?” Daisy barely had time to ask before Matilda launched into her story. Mother often said she talked too much for polite conversation, but that was part of what was fun about playing with Daisy, Matilda didn’t need to be polite!

“Father will be coming home today!” she said, clapping her hands. “And that means I’ll get a present! He always brings me a present when he comes home from trips, and I hope it’s something really nice, he’s been gone for so long this time…what do you think he’ll bring me? Maybe a new dress, or a box of sweets...do you think he’ll bring something for you, too Daisy? Oh I’d like that, maybe a new satin cushion for your cage, or a set of gold combs for me to put in your hair, wouldn’t that just look so beautiful with your leash and collar?”

“Matilda!” her mother called sharply, interrupting Matilda’s musing about her presents. “Time to put your toys away now, your father will be home soon.”

“Aww, but Mother-”

“I won’t tell you twice, Matilda,” her mother warned, and Matilda sighed.

“Fiiiine.”

She got to her feet and quickly scooped up the dolls and teddy bears she had set around the table to make up the rest of the tea party’s guests. She dropped them into her toy chest, then walked back to where Daisy was sitting, unhooking her leash from the brass loop on the side of the table.

“Come on, Daisy,” Matilda said, tugging on the leash, and Daisy quickly scrambled to her feet. When Matilda had first gotten her last year, Daisy had stood a few inches taller than her, but Matilda had grown a bit since her eighth birthday, and now she was about the same height as her pet.

Matilda led Daisy to her cage, which took up the entire corner of the playhouse. Her father had ordered it to be custom made just for Daisy, and it reminded Matilda of a bigger version of the parrot cage she’d once seen at a party at her cousin’s estate. Daisy slipped inside, waiting patiently by the door as Matilda made sure the lock was secure before reaching through the bars to unclip the leash from the shiny golden collar she wore around her neck. She hung the leash on a hook on the cage door, then grinned, waving at her pet.

“Bye Daisy!” she said. “I’ll come visit you again after supper, alright?”

She skipped out into the garden, where her mother was waiting to close the playhouse door behind her.

“Did you remember to lock the cage, dear?” Mother asked, and Matilda rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Mother.”

“Good. Now, come with me. Your father will be home any minute, and he has a surprise for you.”

A grin stretched across Matilda’s face. She couldn’t wait to find out what it was!

---

Matilda was not an unkind little girl. She was sweet, polite, and as far as Lorrella could tell, never hurt anybody on purpose.

This, of course, did little to soothe the chafed skin beneath Lorrella’s collar or the ache for freedom in her heart.

Matilda did not seem to realize that her beloved fairy was a prisoner in the opulent playhouse her father had built her on the grounds of their family manor. She never registered Lorrella’s discomfort, though that was mostly because Lorrella took great pains to hide it from her. Matilda was bound to become upset if her pet wasn’t acting happy, after all.

And rule number one was Don’t upset Matilda.

So Lorrella couldn’t really blame the girl for not realizing when she was uncomfortable, but Matilda still didn’t seem to think twice about leading her around on a leash like a dog or locking her in a six by six foot cage whenever they weren’t “playing together.” She certainly hadn’t been interested in learning Lorrella’s real name, content instead to dub her “Daisy” because it sounded pretty.

Daisy was a dress up doll, a hair model, an audience for impromptu storytimes and a companion for tea parties and garden outings. Whatever Matilda wanted for as long as she wanted, that’s what Daisy had to be. Lorrella was allowed to exist only in these quiet moments when Matilda left her here alone; when nothing was wanted of her and she could whisper her name into the empty room so that she would not forget it.

The most frightening thing was that while Lorrella longed for such a reprieve when she was with Matilda, whenever she was alone, she’d begun to find herself wishing for the girl’s company. Lorrella was nobody, did nothing, belonged nowhere when Matilda was gone. Daisy, at least, had something to do, had something to be, even if that something was little more than an object to be shaped and molded by someone else.

Daisy belonged to Matilda, but Daisy had a purpose. Lorrella belonged to no one, but her life had ceased to have meaning altogether.

The door to the playhouse suddenly burst open and Lorrella jumped in surprise as Matilda darted into the room.

“Daisy!” she cried, running up to the cage and grinning from ear to ear. “Good news! Father brought you a friend!”

Lorrella blinked and tilted her head, a silent question. Matilda reached through the bars and patted her on the head, then grabbed her collar and pulled. Lorrella suppressed a wince at the sudden jerk of movement and leaned forward so that Matilda could clip the leash on.

“Come on, come on, you have to see it!” Matilda said. As soon as she had Lorrella out of the cage, she dashed out of the room, and Lorrella had no choice but to follow as quickly as she could.

Matilda hurried through the grounds and Lorrella stumbled after her, biting back a yelp every time Matilda ran too fast or turned too suddenly for her to keep up. Her neck was already growing sore, and she’d tumbled over enough times that her knees would be bound to have an angry smattering of fresh bruises by morning. She desperately wanted to call out for Matilda to slow down, but she held her tongue.

Rule number two was Never speak unless spoken to.

Matilda finally skidded to a halt outside the family stables, and Lorrella let herself fall to her knees beside her, gasping for air.

“Father!” Matilda called, knocking on the stable door. “I brought Daisy to come see it too! Can we come in?”

Lorrella stared at Matilda incredulously. All this fuss just to meet a new pony?

Matilda’s father appeared at the door, and Lorrella shrank back, casting her eyes downward.

“Yes, my dear,” he said. “But you must remember to move slowly, alright? It is still quite wild, and not used to people yet.”

Matilda nodded solemnly, and her father opened the door wide, allowing her to pull Lorrella inside. They passed through most of the stable and Matilda occasionally paused to wave at a favorite horse, but they didn’t stop moving until they reached the end of the row of stalls. The stall at the back was open, and as they approached, Lorrella could hear the stable hands muttering to each other.

“Shit! Hold the damn thing still, will you? I can’t buckle these straps tight enough when it’s squirming so much!”

“I will thank you,” Matilda’s father said coldly,” to not swear in front of my daughter.”

The two snapped to attention instantly, twin looks of apology on their faces.

“Yes, Lord Tracey, sorry Lord Tracey,” said the one who’d cursed, ducking his head.

“Can I show Daisy now?” Matilda asked, and her fathers face softened as he looked down at her.

“Of course, my dear. The creature is secure?” he added to the stablehands, and they nodded quickly.

“Yes, my lord. Took a fair bit of wrangling, but it shouldn’t be a problem now.”

They stepped aside, revealing the animal in the stall, and Lorrella was unable to stop herself from gasping. She froze, glancing up at Lord Tracey, but he only had eyes for Matilda, who was staring at the creature with a wide grin

It was not, as Lorrella had first assumed, simply a new pony; it was a centaur. Their upper body was wrapped up tightly in a harness that forced its arms behind its back, and their face was partially covered by a bitted bridle, the lead of which was tied to a hook on the wall.

Lorrella had never seen a centaur before, and she was no expert on horses either, but even she could see that the creature was only a child. Judging by the face alone, one not much older than Matilda herself, or at least whatever the centaur equivalent was to eight years old. The poor thing was clearly terrified, too; they were trembling slightly and pawing at the ground with one of their front hooves.

“Daisy, this is Coco!” Matilda said happily. “Coco, this is Daisy! The two of you are gonna be the best of friends, I know it! What do you think, Daisy, isn’t she just the greatest present you ever saw?”

The centaur flinched when Matilda spoke, and Lorrella glanced back at Lord Tracey, who was watching the whole exchange with what on the surface looked like a bored expression. She swallowed, and shot the centaur what she hoped was an apologetic look before answering.

“Yes, Lady Matilda,” she said quietly. “She’s perfect for you.”

#whump #whump fic #creature whump #fairy whump #centaur whump #pet whump #nonhuman whumpee #child whumper #matilda's playhouse #my writing

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kaunis-sielu · 4 years ago

Text

A Knight’s Lady: 9

The morning had flown by, when it was time for lunch you’d anxiously made your way to dining hall. When you’d entered all the men had stood but Steve isn’t there.

“There was an issue with a couple of the squires, your Grace.” Bucky answers your unasked question, “Steve asked me to tell you he was sorry and he’d see you before dinner.”

“Th-thank you James.”

“Bucky please your Grace.” You nod then head out of the room.

“Your Grace?” Wanda asks following you, “do you not want to eat?”

“I’ll eat when the men are finished. They don’t want to have to behave, which is fine.” You tell her and she laughs softly. “Let’s continue the tour.”

“We only have the outdoors left.”

“Perfect.” She brings you to the gardens, or what should be the gardens and you frown, it’s very bare. Not at all what you’d hoped for. Then you make your way to where the men train, even from a distance you know which one is Steve. His body is tight, his arms folded across his chest and even without seeing his face you’re almost certain he’s furious.

“Again.” The word is short and clipped.

“Let’s stay up here, we don’t want to interrupt training.” You tell Wanda who nods her agreement.

“Again.” Steve’s voice is even tight, “if you are going to insist on acting like children I will treat you as such.” The group in front of him are training with sticks, their swords are all leaning against the wall. Steve turns then and sees you, his entire demeanor changes.

“Peter, take over for a minute. Until they do it right.”

“Yes, your Grace.” Peter says as Steve takes the stairs two at a time toward you.

“M’lady,” he says as he approaches, “I’m sorry I missed lunch.”

“Do you want me to bring you anything?”

“Philip did, thank you though.” He says wrapping a hand around your waist and pressing a kiss to your lips. “You look stunning. Still wish you wouldn’t wear the corset, I wanna feel you.” He mutters and you glance over your shoulder for Wanda but somehow you’re alone.

“My dresses won’t fit without it.”

“Then I’ll buy you new dresses.” He says before kissing you again, “thank you for wearing your hair like this.” He gives the ends a gentle tug. You’d had Virginia pull the front back away from your face but left the rest loose.

“I’m glad you like it.” He nods.

“Were you going to come down and say hello?”

“No,” when his brows raise you elaborate, “I didn’t want to interrupt your training.”

“Feel free to interrupt whenever you’d like.” He says with a small smile. “Have you been shown the castle?”

“This was the last s-stop.” You tell him as his hand continues to play with your hair.

“Anything you want to change?”

“The garden.” He chuckles softly,

“I figured that you might. It’s been in rough shape for a while.”

“You don’t mind me changing it?”

“Not at all, do whatever you want.”

“Do you have anyone who might be able to help me? I don’t know what kind of plants do here.”

“Not a problem, I’ll send for someone before dinner tonight. Anything else?”

“No, be safe.” He gives you a wide grin before kissing you again.

This starts a routine, mornings are spent working with a man named Victor Stone on the garden. You’ve noticed he and Wanda seem to be interested in one another, something you encourage.

Lunch is either spent with Steve or some of the other women in the castle. Some of the other knights are married but you also make it a habit to try and learn everyone’s name in the castle. You’ve been studying the north in the library as well, Strange recommends books when he’s there which is often. Then dinner is with everyone and you and Steve go back to your room where some nights you read or write to Daisy. Other times you take a bath and Steve pampers you and you massage his tired muscles.

You’ve finally gotten your hands on some plain oil that you mix your own herbs into, ones that are less perfume and more earth. You haven’t said anything to him about it yet since you want it to be a surprise, so when you as him to take off his shirt and lie face down on the bed he looks at you quizzically but does as you ask. You carefully uncork the bottle and pour the warm oil in your hand. Rubbing your hands together you start at the top of his shoulders and slowly dig your fingers into his muscles. The oil helps your hands glide across his skin and the low moan he lets out is sinful.

“Any injuries I should be aware of?”

“No, not unless you’re going to do my legs too. I was sliced on the inside of my thigh. Damage wasn’t terrible thanks to Strange but it pulls sometimes.”

“I can if you want.” You tell him digging small circles into his lower back with your thumbs.

“If you’re comfortable with it.” He says turning his head so those bright blue eyes of his are watching you.

“If my hands aren’t too tired.” You say softly making sure to stay focused on the task at hand, while you did this often for Daisy her muscles weren’t as tight as his so your hands tend to tire out. After about twenty minutes you ask him to roll over, he does and watches you intently,

“Stop it.” You tell him a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like that. I’m trying to focus.” He laughs softly then catches one of your hands pressing a kiss to your wrist.

“Do I distract you?”

“Yes. Y-you’re too handsome.” He sits up suddenly and tugs you gently into his lap so you’ve landed with one leg on either side of his lap.

“You think I’m handsome?” You nod your head and he grins before pressing a kiss to your lips, his hands slide under your robe and he jerks back suddenly as he realizes you’re not wearing anything underneath. “M’lady, does this mean-” you nod again and he crashes his mouth into yours.

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @dancer3205

#steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #imagine steve rogers #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader au #imagine steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #imagine steve rogers x reader au #knight!captain america x reader #knight!steve rogers x reader au #knight!steve rogers #knight story

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Day 1: “Who keeps hanging all this damn mistletoe everywhere?”- Poe Dameron

A/N: It’s here! It’s here! The 12 days of Christmas writing challenge has begun! Everyday up until Christmas day I will post a new story! All the prompts have been requested! Thank you so much for reblogging, commenting, and liking!

This was requested by @poedameronloverx I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F! Reader

Warning: 18 + for language

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie

My Masterlist

12 Days of Christmas Writing Challenge Masterlist

During the middle of a war is not the most ideal time to celebrate the holidays. War doesn’t stop just because you hang some lights. The resistance was a depressing place to be at the moment. Small incursions resulting in heavy losses, the lack of new intelligence, and the overhanging threat of the First Order dampened the season.

Although some never gave up it was becoming harder and harder not to be pulled under the cloud of hopelessness. Poe Dameron was not one of these people. Poe never gave up hope even when things had become desperate. BB-8 faithfully rolling by his side, the two of them went around spreading cheer around the base. They started with the decorations. Large garlands made from the forest leaves outside strung together with white lights and bright orange bows tied together from old flight suits. How they managed to hang them that high you had no idea, and frankly didn’t want too. Then came the music, classic songs from eons past filtered through the comms during missions, in the mess hall, and even the cantina. The atmosphere began to shift around base as the colorful decorations and music began to lift their spirits.

The third step of their plan began the week before Life Day. A strange green plant with white berries began appearing. In doorways around the base the plant appeared.

“What the hell is all this stuff?” you said aloud to yourself.

“Mistletoe,” Jess snaps you from your thoughts and you turn to her questioning.

“What the hell is mistletoe?”

“Mistletoe is the common name for obligate hemiparasitic plants in the order Santalales. They are attached to their host tree or shrub by a structure called the haustorium, through which they extract water and nutrients from the host plant, very toxic. Although in the custom of Life Day they are used as a decoration under which lovers are expected to kiss. A most strange custom,” you and Jess both turn slowly to see 3PO standing behind you pointing his gleaming arm toward the plant.

“So you're telling me someone put a toxic plant all over the base so that people would be forced to kiss each other?”

“Precisely,” 3PO says cheerfully.

“Right,” you nod sarcastically, “perfect.”

“I think it’s kind of romantic. Who are you hoping to kiss?” Jess sighs.

“No one,” you scoff.

“Not even....Poe?” she wiggles her eyebrows and nudges you with her elbow playfully.

“No way, the poster boy for the resistance doesn’t even know I exist...I think the existence of the other person is probably the first step of getting someone to kiss you.”

“Don’t you hang out with BB-8 all the time?” she teases.

“Yes, BB-8 assists me with my work on the ships but I’ve never really spoken to Dameron before. Sure, a word here or there but he doesn’t really notice me I’m just a mechanic. Plus I am waiting for a special person to kiss me on Life Day this year,” you start walking toward the mess hall, Jess following alongside.

“You mean your secret admirer?” she coos giggling.

“As a matter of fact, yes. They promised that during the week before Life Day they would leave me some more hints around base and then reveal themselves on the big day. But I haven’t received anything in two weeks...with all those casualties last week...I think my secret admirer might be gone.” The darkness hanging overhead seeps into your bones and you rub your eyes in exhaustion.

“I wouldn’t be too quick to write them off. Maybe they are just waiting for the right time...like right now.” She points to your usual table in the mess hall overflowing with bright white and orange daisies.

You walk in a trance toward the table and see your name scrawled on the cover of an envelope. You tear it open and devour the words, holding the letter tight to your chest you sigh. They’re alright, you thank the maker and ask Jess for help carrying the daisies to your work station. Trying to ignore the murmuring crowd around the table. It takes three trips but finally your workstation is overflowing in the colorful flowers, their sweet scent permeating the air. You inhale and smile still clutching the note. Jess walks over smiling patting your shoulder and giving you a one armed hug before going off to work. You look down and let your eyes flow over the note again.

Hello Gorgeous,

I’ve missed you so much these past few weeks. With the recent losses we have faced I have been busier than usual. These past few months of exchanging letters with you have been some of the happiest in my life. I can’t wait to finally meet you and reveal myself to you on Life Day. I hope these flowers bring a smile to your face as bright as mine was picking them for you.

All yours,

Your secret admirer

You look around again at the sheer number of flowers covering every space of your workplace, and laugh imagining them picking each one special. Tucking the note safely into the pocket of your jumpsuit you get started working on the x-wings. By the end of the day you are starving from skipping lunch and exhausted. You take a sniff and wince at the sharp smell of engine oil and grease soaked into your skin.

In the mess hall it’s late not many people are still up but they are luckily still serving food. Although it’s debatable what the resistance is serving can be called such. You poke hesitantly at the food and pull your notepad from your bag penning a response back to your secret admirer.

Hi, I’ve been so worried that you may have been one of those casualties that my heart melted when I saw my name on the envelope. You have spoiled me with the sheer number of flowers, and they smell so sweet. I have missed your letters and can’t wait for Life Day when we can finally meet. All yours, Your secret admirer

You tear the paper off and fold it up before finishing the meal. You yawn as you take the long way home and pass your spot. You pull at the loose brick in the wall and place the letter inside before going back to your room for the night.

The next morning, the sun streams through the small window of your room. Your roommate is already gone for the morning so you take your time in the fresher and pull on a fresh jumpsuit before grabbing a nutrition bar and leaving. When you get to your workshop BB-8 is waiting. The droid quickly became your friend when you first arrived several months ago as a transfer. He was great company on the larger projects around base.

“Are you here to help me out?” you greet the droid dropping to a knee. He beeps happily back to you and you grin back at him.

“So this is where my droid spends his day?” The voice behind you startles you and you rise quickly tripping over a canister on the ground. You feel the ground quickly come up to meet your back when you're flipped and land solidly on the chest of Poe Dameron.

“Are you okay?” he runs his hands over your head. You look into his deep brown eyes nodding. “Damn, I...I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your brain just suddenly realizes that you’re still laying on top of him and scramble to get up, brushing yourself off and clearing your throat, “Oh uhm, thank you for catching me Commander.”

“Poe,” he instantly corrects, and you say his name causing a smile to break out across his cheeks, “As I was saying, I wanted to meet the mechanic that has my droid making heart eyes,” he teases making you blush.

“Oh...BB-8 is a wonderful droid. I am lucky enough to have him help me out,” you avoid eye contact, attempting not to make a complete fool out of yourself.

“He speaks very highly of you, and I can see why,” he grins. You're sure at this point you must be the color of a tomato when he takes another step toward you taking your hand gently, and bringing it up to his lips. “I hope to see you again, very soon.” He places a gentle kiss on your knuckles and smiles before leaving.

When he is gone you sigh and look down at the droid who quickly opens a compartment and lights the flame into the form of a thumbs up causing you to giggle. “Not the smoothest interaction I’ve ever had buddy but thanks for the support.”

The rest of the week is a flurry of activity around the base as everyone tries to complete their work ahead of schedule for the Life Day celebration. The days are long in your workshop but luckily a steady stream of notes between you and your secret admirer make the days seem to go by quicker.

Until the day finally arrives. The base while still maintaining itself is mostly run by droids today as people make their way over to the mess hall for the festivities. You check yourself over in the mirror again, smoothing out any wrinkles in your green dress, and placing the white snowflake hair-clip in place. Satisfied with your appearance you head off to your spot to check for any notes. Pulling the stone away and giving a slight squeal at the paper stuck inside.

Today’s the day we finally meet. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms and tell you how I feel about you. Meet me under the mistletoe. All yours, Your secret admirer

You tuck the note into the pocket of your dress and race off to the mess, linking arms with Jessika as you pass her in the hallway and all but dragging her to the room. Your breath catches as you arrive. The room illuminates with twinkle lights in white, red, and green. Large candles are flickering in the center of the tables, and the room smells heavenly of tip yip and roasted vegetables. But one thing stands out amongst it all and your heart sinks.

“Who keeps hanging all this damn mistletoe everywhere?!” Jessika asks, walking toward the buffet line.

Everywhere you look sprigs of mistletoe hang. From the ceiling, the doorway, and everywhere in between. How the hell were you going to find your secret admirer now!? Jess shouts over to join her and you reluctantly do. The Life day celebration is a blast. People playing games, exchanging gifts, and the liquor flowing freely. You could almost forget for a minute we were in a war.

The night slowly starts to wind down and you feel even more heartbroken as you start to pack up your small gifts from friends when BB-8 crashes into your side. Beeping hysterically.

“What buddy, slow down! Poe...Poe WHAT?!” you shout and several heads turn to look at you as you follow the droid who is racing from the room. You run as fast as you can to keep up and when you turn into the hangar your steps falter. Standing under the open bay doors in a colorful sweater with BB-8 sewn on it is Poe Dameron smiling broadly.

“What...what’s going on?” you stammer, “BB-8 said you were hurt, that you needed help…”

“I wanted to get you alone,” he reaches for your hand and pulls you closer until you're standing directly in front of him.

“Poe...what?” he sticks one finger up and points, your head tilting up to look above you and seeing the mistletoe hanging from the open bay doors. Your blood pounds in your ears and your lips turn up into a small smile and your voice gets very quiet, “It’s you.”

“It’s me...are...are you disappointed?” he’s surprisingly shy and you shake your head no quickly stepping closer.

“No...not at all...I...I wanted it to be you,” you whisper and his smile is almost blinding.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t,” you match his smile and he leans forward capturing your lips with his own. He’s warm and soft and tastes like peppermint and chocolate and you sigh opening your mouth to his. You’re so caught up in the moment that the shrill beeps of BB-8 capture you both by surprise, and Poe holds you close in his arms as you both smile down at the droid.

BB-8 beeps at you happily and Poe nods laughing before kissing you again, “Yeah buddy, happy Life day to you too.”

#poe dameron #Poe Dameron x reader #star wars #Oscar Isaac #12 days of Christmas #poe dameron imagine

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years ago

Text

the before, the after, the in-between

Chapter Seven: daybreak trains Words: 3.3k

Relationships: Jon & Daisy, Jon/Martin Tags: Post-Canon, Scottish Safehouse, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mute Jon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Hopeful Ending

Work Summary:

There was no knife, no blood, and Jon was not dead. And when he heard a strangled noise from beside him and looked over to see Martin standing in the doorway of the safehouse, flung open and letting in the frigid bite of near-winter and sunlight, there was sunlight, he felt such a dizzying, intense wave of relief that he could hardly breathe around it.

Then, he opened his mouth to say Martin’s name, and nothing came out, and all of the relief fell away in an instant.

Jon wakes up in the safehouse in October of 2018, alive and well but without the Eye and without his voice. In the days that follow, he finds himself confronted with a world that has reset itself in space and in time, a version of himself that is no longer the Archivist, and the fact that death during the end of the world had not been so permanent as it had seemed.

Chapter Summary:

Daisy sighs and stands, brushing her hands off on the thighs of her trousers. “It’s not like you’re never going to see me again. I’ll still visit.”

“I know,” Jon signs, his hand gestures a bit too wide. “I’ll still…” He pauses, his hands lingering in the air for a moment as he tries to figure out what the next sign should be, before giving up and stepping forward instead, reaching for Daisy’s hand and capturing it in his. He squeezes tightly, looking up at Daisy with an open, vulnerable expression. Then, he brings her hand up with his as he presses it against the left side of his chest, a few inches above the jagged line of scar tissue, and settles his other hand on top of it. He may not know how to sign I’ll miss you, but he’d learned love early on.

Read on Ao3 (link in source)

Or read below:

(cw for mentions of canon-typical worms)

A quick note that all sign language in this chapter (BSL) is indicated via italics in quotation marks. I recognize that BSL has different grammar and sentence construction than spoken English, but for the purposes of this fic and for clarity’s sake, I’ve written all sign language as it would be translated into English syntax and sentence construction. Further disclaimer that I am not deaf or mute and that I don’t speak any version of sign language, so if I’ve made an error in depicting the dialogue here, please let me know!

Jon raps his knuckles on the frame of the bedroom door, and Daisy glances up from where she’s crouched on the floor next to the bed, halfway through packing her bag next to the cot they’d gotten so Daisy didn’t have to sleep on the couch. (Though they have been saving up for a new couch, a decently nice one that doesn’t sag in the middle and leak stuffing. Martin’s new job at the village’s library pays adequately enough, but in the three months it’s been since the world snapped back to normal, they’ve only managed to accumulate a few hundred pounds in savings. It’s all right though, Jon thinks. They have time.)

“You don’t leave until tomorrow,” Jon signs, his hands still a bit clumsy around the words but adept enough to get his point across. He still carries his notebook with him for when the modest collection of signs Daisy’s been able to teach him so far aren’t enough for him to convey his thoughts, and he has a cell phone now with a speech-to-text app that he uses occasionally even though he finds the mechanical voice grating, but he’s been having to use them less and less. He still likes having the notebook, though. It feels nice to look down and see his words still scrawled on paper even after the conversation is over. A reminder that, for all that his voice has been used and stolen and manipulated over the years, his words are still his own.

“I know,” Daisy says, tucking a few more things in her bag before zipping it closed. She sits on her heels and looks up at him, her hair loose and falling just beneath her chin from where they’d cut it a few weeks prior. “But now it’s done, so.”

Jon sighs lightly and shakes his head, more an expression of resignation than irritation. The spot where Daisy’s things used to sit looks empty now, barren. It makes something heavy settle in the pit of his stomach. It must show on his face, because Daisy sighs and stands, brushing her hands off on the thighs of her trousers. “It’s not like you’re never going to see me again. I’ll still visit.”

Daisy’s hand relaxes underneath his, and she stares at where their hands are clasped, mouth settling into something warm and fond. “Yeah. Me too. But it’s… time.” Her mouth twitches into something halfway displeased. “Basira’s waited long enough.”

She can wait a bit longer, Jon thinks, even as he nods and lets go of Daisy’s hand. Besides, he… he knows she’s right. The longer she stays, the less of a chance there is of her leaving at all, and he knows that it’s for the best if she goes. For her and for him.

That doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Daisy must see the vaguely sullen look on Jon’s face that he’s trying to hide, because she gives Jon an amused look and says, “You’ll be fine. No need to be so… grumpy.”

“I know,” Jon signs again, perhaps a bit more forcefully than is strictly necessary. “I’m not.”

“Sure,” Daisy says, her eyes wandering past his face and over his shoulder, where the door is sitting ajar. Jon knows Martin isn’t out there—that he’s still at work, will be for another hour or so—but he still has to resist the urge to follow her gaze, to check for himself that the doorway remains empty. “You’ve got my number? So you can call if you need to?”

Jon nods, signing the numbers just to make sure, and Daisy hums. “Good. I know the reception’s shit out here, but if I call three times with no response, I’m on the next train to Scotland. Understood?”

Jon rolls his eyes and tries to pretend like the fact that Daisy cares doesn’t make something warm and comforting settle in his chest. “Yes, mother.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” Daisy says, amused.

Daisy’s bag of things—clothing, toiletries, a few other items she’d accumulated over the past few months—sits accusingly by the door as Jon goes through the motions of making dinner, timing it so it’ll be ready by the time Martin gets home. It’s achingly domestic, and though Jon doesn’t really mind it, he’s found himself restless more days than not, hands itching for something to do that isn’t practicing sign language with Daisy or dusting the windowsills for the twentieth time. He thinks he’d be fine finding a job in the village; Martin insists that it’s still too dangerous, that people are still too angry. It’s a recurring argument, so old that almost all of the vitriol has bled out of it by this point, but still, they have it. Every moment he spends confined in this house is just another aching reminder of why he’s confined, and it builds and builds until some part of it springs free and brings with it all the frustration and hurt and pain that he just can’t seem to shake.

Maybe that’s why Jon’s so frustrated about the… therapy situation.

He stabs the knife through the pepper he’s cutting with a bit more force than necessary, and it makes a dull thunk on the cutting board. Daisy glances over from where she’s taking spices out of the cabinet, one eyebrow raised. “You’re going to wear a hole through the plastic if you keep doing that.”

Jon sighs and sends her a withering look. “Thank you,” he signs with a roll of his eyes, the motion sharp and forceful, before turning back to the cutting board and continuing to slice with clipped, jerky motions.

Daisy exhales slowly, turning back to the cabinet. “What’s wrong?” she says, reaching in and sorting through the frankly obscene amount of spices they’ve accumulated over the past few months.

“Nothing,” Jon signs without looking away from the pepper. “It’s fine.”

“Hm.” Daisy locates the spice she was looking for and pulls it out of the cupboard. “Is it because I’m leaving? I told you, it’ll be fine.”

Jon sighs and shakes his head, brushing the cut peppers off to the side and starting in on the onion. Daisy is quiet, busying herself with the spices and clearly waiting for Jon to elaborate. She’s patient, and he knows from experience that she’ll wait and wait and wait until he finally tells her what she wants to know. It reminds him distinctly of a persistence predator, stalking their prey and waiting for them to tire before they pounce.

Jon makes it all the way through the onion, ginger, and mushrooms before he finally sets the knife down with a clatter and signs, “It’s Martin.”

He leaves his hands in the air for a lingering moment, three fingers pressed tightly to the palm of his left hand, before forcibly relaxing his hands and dropping them. After a moment, Daisy prompts, “Okay. It usually is. What about Martin?”

Jon flexes his fingers by his side a few times before resigning himself to the fact that Daisy won’t let this go until he explains himself fully. He turns to gather his notebook from the kitchen table, sets it flat on the counter next to the cutting board, and taps the pen on the page a few times before deciding to just be blunt. I don’t understand how going into town for therapy is different than going into town for any other reason.

Daisy hums. “Are you upset about the therapy part or about the rest of it?”

I’m fine with the therapy part, Jon writes, a bit messily in his haste and frustration. So the rest of it.

Daisy crosses her arms, clearly waiting for him to explain.

It’s just, Jon writes, then scribbles it out. I just don’t understand, he tries, before scribbling that out too. Finally, with a frustrated huff of air, Jon settles on, I don’t think doctor-patient confidentiality is going to be as protective as Martin thinks it will be.

“Hm.” Daisy leans back against the counter and taps her fingers against it thoughtfully. “Maybe he thinks it’s worth the risk.”

Jon makes a breathy hmph sound, not sure if he’s displeased about the fact that this is what finally convinces Martin that it’s ‘worth the risk’ or about the fact that Daisy has a point.

“Why don’t you talk to him about it?” Daisy asks. Which is a perfectly reasonable question, Jon knows, so there’s no reason for him to grow even more frustrated when Daisy asks it.

He sighs, stares at his notebook, and eventually just shrugs wearily. We just haven’t been very good at talking lately, he writes, feeling every bit of his energy seep out into the ink. The end of the last letter bleeds when he leaves his pen pressed there for too long, which he thinks is fitting. That’s sort of the point of the therapy.

It’s not that Jon’s resistant to therapy. He’s not. He’d done a few sessions with a child psychologist when he was eight (that had eventually dropped off when he’d decided that never think about it again and pretend like it never happened was a much better method of coping than trying to explain something unexplainable to a smiling woman in a pantsuit), a good month or two in uni when the stress of it all had compounded and he’d shut off sometime after exams, and they were… fine. He’d taken away a few tools that he still uses—breathing techniques, the occasional bout of journaling that he’d never managed to maintain, things to help him at least identify when his thoughts begin to spiral—but nothing had really ever seemed substantial enough to justify going back. Even when things had gotten… bad, in the Archives, he’d never entertained the thought, because what would he say? He’d sat in his flat after Prentiss, laptop open as he scrolled through the available services, and found the phone number he was meant to call. His wounds itched underneath his bandages; he tried not to scratch them. The ones in his mind were a bit more difficult to let be.

He hadn’t called, in the end. He’d imagined it—sitting in a sterile office, bandages from head to toe, trying to explain being half-eaten alive by worms without saying those words—and had felt a lump that was equal parts desperation and despair rise in his throat, so acute that he’d shut his laptop with a bit more force than necessary. Therapy just… wasn’t in the cards for him, he’d decided.

And then things had gotten more complicated, and he’d been paranoid then on the run then comatose then just trying to fight against the hunger, and he’d resigned himself to the fact that he… he couldn’t be helped. Every aspect of his life was so entwined with things that he couldn’t explain to someone else, with things that a therapist wouldn’t understand, and to try to separate the parts of him that were human from the parts of him that weren’t seemed like an impossible task. Better just… not to try at all, he’d decided. He’d be fine. He always was.

Jon supposes that now, the problem is quite the opposite. Before, he’d avoided talking about the parts of himself that were supernatural because the therapist wouldn’t understand. Now, he’s avoiding talking about them because they’ll understand a bit too well.

“I think you’re still meant to try,” Daisy says, and Jon’s confused for a moment before he remembers oh, right. Talking to Martin. “Besides, he’ll… be able to help more than I can. I can’t tell you what he’s thinking; only he can.”

Almost flippantly, Jon signs, “I know.” He sighs and, after a moment, writes, I think it’ll be easier if I just trust him on this. If he thinks it’s safe, then

Jon pauses, pen still sitting on the paper, before finishing with a bit more conviction than he feels, then it’s safe.

Daisy just watches him for a moment, forehead slightly creased, before shrugging. “All right. If you need somebody to tell you that that’s fine, then here I am—telling you that it’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Jon signs with a fond sigh and a roll of his eyes. “Very helpful.”

“You’ve got to work on your ‘sarcastic’ face, or I’m going to start taking you seriously.”

“Ha ha.”

“Hm. Much better.”

. . .

The bus from the village to the train station in Inverness leaves just after dawn. Jon shifts from side to side by the door to the safehouse as Daisy does a final check to ensure she hasn’t forgotten anything, Martin trailing close behind. When they finally join him by the door, Martin hardly has time to open his mouth before Jon signs, quick and crisp, “I’m coming with.”

“Jon—” Martin starts, but Jon shakes his head.

More emphatically, he signs, “I’m. Coming. With.” When Martin opens his mouth again to argue, Jon holds up a hand, digs his notebook out of the pocket of his jacket, and scribbles, If we can visit a therapist for the foreseeable future, I can go into town once to say goodbye.

Martin’s lips purse, but after a moment, he sighs. “No, you’re- you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“Scared?” Jon signs, one hand still holding the notebook and the other brushing against his chest.

Martin’s expression deepens, and he nods.

Jon worries his bottom lip between his teeth, then reaches forward and takes Martin’s hand in his. He squeezes it gently, reassuringly, then threads their fingers together and holds it tightly. Martin takes a deep breath, lets it out, and squeezes back. “Okay,” he whispers. “Sorry. I just- I worry.”

I know, Jon thinks. He nods and fumbles to tuck the notebook back in his pocket, then brushes his fingers gently against Martin’s cheek. I’ll be okay.

He hopes the sentiment comes across. He thinks it does, from the way Martin leans slightly into his touch and takes another, more even breath.

“I think I’ve got everything,” Daisy says, breaking through the tension between them a bit indelicately but not without purpose. “We should start walking.”

Martin presses his face into Jon’s hand for a moment more before pulling away, and Jon drops his hand back to his side. “Yeah,” Martin says with a short, firm nod. “Let’s go.”

The trip to the village is surprisingly short. It might be because of the anticipation building in Jon’s stomach, half from the knowledge that he has at best another hour with Daisy and half from the clawing worry that he’s horribly miscalculated and the moment he steps past the village limits, an angry mob will coalesce around them and demand reparation for all of Jon’s past mistakes.

It doesn’t happen. They arrive at the village and the streets are quiet, most people still asleep or preparing for the day as the sun tickles at the horizon, tinting the landscape around them with a soft morning blue. The few people they do pass pay them no mind, save for an older gentleman who wishes Martin a good morning and nods politely at Jon and Daisy. As they get closer to the bus station, Jon relaxes in increments until, by the time they reach it, he’s nearly free of tension entirely. A new wave of anxiety rushes through him as he sees the small crowd clustered by the pickup area, but they stay away from the crowds, instead stopping a bit further away near a grouping of benches. Jon settles down gratefully, the walk having made the ache in his knee flare up slightly, and after a moment, Martin and Daisy sit down as well, one on either side of him. They’re warm and solid, and even as a few more people begin to filter into the station, Jon relaxes once again as he stretches his leg in front of him carefully.

The bus is there too soon. Jon cuts off halfway through his sentence, his pen pressed against the paper as the rumble of the bus fills the air and people start to shift and stand, making their way towards where the bus is slowly rolling to a stop. He looks at Daisy, suddenly feeling a bit lost, and she places her hand atop his and applies a gentle, firm pressure. “Call,” she reminds him. “Twice a week, at minimum. I expect you to be alive and well when I come back to visit, okay?”

Jon takes a deep breath. When he lets it out, it hitches in his throat. “Okay,” he signs. He flutters his hands in the air for a moment, caught between signing I love you and Be safe, then gives up and leans forward, wrapping Daisy in a tight hug instead.

She huffs out a laugh, but after a moment her arms curl around him and she settles her hands flat against his lower back, pressing down lightly. “Yeah, yeah,” she says softly. “I’ll miss you too.”

And then she’s standing and walking towards the bus and boarding and the bus is pulling away and then it’s just him and Martin, sitting side-by-side on the bench and watching the bus disappear from their line of sight. After a moment, Martin settles his hand on Jon’s knee and says quietly, “You okay?”

Jon takes a deep breath, lets it out, and nods. “Let’s go home?”

Martin nods, shifting his hand so it slips into Jon’s and squeezing tightly. “If you’re sure.”

Jon runs the fingers of his free hand along the cover of his notebook, now lying closed on his lap. The back half is filled with words, thoughts, some carefully inked and others scratched down quickly before Jon forgot them. He has another two just like this one, tucked away in his drawer in the bedroom underneath his jumpers. There’s so much contained within them, so much more that’s still contained within himself, and the path ahead—the one where he sits side-by-side with Martin and faces a trained professional and tries to iron them all out into something manageable—is a daunting one. But he wants to try. God, he wants to try. So badly he aches with it.

“I’m sure,” he signs, then reaches down and picks up his notebook and pen. For all the uncertainty he’s faced in the past, all that he still faces, that, at least, is clear to him.

“All right.” Martin bumps his knee gently against Jon’s once before standing, helping Jon to his feet. Jon’s knee twinges in protest, and without missing a beat, Martin slips his hand out of Jon’s and around his back instead, subtly supporting his weight as they make their way out of the station and back to the paved road that turns to gravel that turns to dirt that leads to the small wooden cottage at the top of the hill.

Right now, the soil outside their house is dark and barren. But in a few months’ time, Jon knows, it will grow warm and the days will grow longer and he will be able to sit outside and look at the sky and think of just how lucky he is that he’s allowed to have this. That, despite all of the bad that has happened and all of the bad that has followed them still, he’s allowed to be happy.

And in the spring, the daisies will bloom once again.

#tma #the magnus archives #jaisy week #jonathan sims #daisy tonner #martin blackwood #my writing #my fic #before tag #ahh i did it! it's done! :D #also a note that the sign jon uses for martin here is just the letter 'm' and isn't a sign name

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jungshookz · 4 years ago

Text

teeny tidbits: sleepy hwayoung & her cinnamon star puffs

teeny tidbits are basically just drabbles that i started writing for ?? no reason other than self-indulgence and then never got around to finishing (and will probably never get around to finishing) but it’d be a waste to just plunk them in the garbage and i figured you guys would still like to read them :D they’re too long to be considered a baby drabble but not long enough to be considered a full drabble!! and there’s not really a plot to them?? think of these tidbits as a midday pick-me-up treat B-)

let me know if you guys enjoy these because i have many teeny tidbits floating around in my drafts that i could share! i’ll even add them to my masterlist so you won’t have to launch a full-on detective investigation to find them :’)

»»————-　♡　————-««

“all i’m saying is that instead of abandoning hwa at the daycare centre all day, she could totally hang out with me in my office!” jimin exclaims as if it’s the most obvious thing to do in the entire world and you can’t help but roll your eyes playfully

“i guarantee you won’t be able to do work and take care of h at the same time.” you shake your head before leaning back against the stool and crossing your arms, “and yoongi’s gonna scold you real bad if you don’t do your work- also, why are we having this conversation again?”

“i just wanna spend more time with hwa, that’s all…” jimin pushes his bottom lip out in a pout before whining quietly, “she’s growing up too quickly and i have to take advantage of the fact that she gives me kisses whenever i ask for them - pretty soon, she’s going to start saying no and before you know it, she hates me-”

“mama.”

you look down when you feel a gentle pat at the side of your leg and you smile lightly at the sight of hwayoung looking up at you with rosy cheeks and puffy little eyes

jimin gets up on his tippy toes so he can peer over the kitchen island as well to take a look at little miss sleepy head

“good afternoon, miss min!” you reach down to run your fingers through her mussy hair, “enjoy your nap?”

she nods before her mouth opens in a little yawn

“uncle goo still asleep?”

“sill aseep.” hwayoung nods affirmatively before raising both her arms, “up, pease.”

“he’s probably drooling on the couch again.” jimin points out and leans over slightly to look out of the kitchen and into the living room

from here he can see jungkook’s legs dangling off the edge of the couch

“i wouldn’t be surprised if he was,” you raise a brow before leaning down to scoop hwayoung up off the ground, “you can mop the slobber up this time.”

you plop her down on your lap and wrap both your arms around her securely before propping your chin up on the top of her head, “you want a snack or something?”

“nack?” hwayoung’s small hands grip at your forearm in anticipation

nack >:-)

“cinnamon star puffs sound good to you?”

she nods enthusiastically, “sinnintar paff!”

“you heard the woman, uncle jimin. sinnintar paffs!”

“sinnintar paffs coming right up…” jimin turns on his heel and heads towards the snack cabinet

you reach down to adjust hwayoung’s little sock that’s bunched up around her ankle before giving her thigh a pat and pressing a kiss to the top of her head

her hair smells like strawberries and vanilla :-)

“you want me to do your hair?” you ask hwa as you attempt to smooth her unruly hair down a little, “i can ask uncle jimin to get your little daisy clips.”

“yes, because uncle jimin does everything around here and gets none of the credit-“ jimin butts in teasingly before handing you the canister of puffs

“not true! you’re the reason why she’s so up to date on all the latest trends and refuses to wear squeaky shoes-“

“squeaky shoes are tacky, y/n.”

“tackee!” hwayoung smacks her hands down on the counter and grabs at the canister with greedy little hands, “paff-paff pease!”

“alright, give me a second-” you pop the lid off before carefully sprinkling some out onto the counter

hwayoung bounces on your lap excitedly and grabs a handful of the puffs

“god, she looks so much like you, you know that?” jimin tilts his head to the side and smiles fondly when hwayoung copies him

“you think so? she has yoongi’s pouty mouth.” you pinch hwayoung’s chin in between your fingers before tilting her head back so she’s looking directly up at you

you pull at her bottom lip just to take a look at her row of bottom teeth

you remember when she only had like two bottom teeth and two top ones

and now all of them are there!!

hwayoung maintains eye contact with you as she slowly raises a puff up towards your mouth, “paff?”

“mm. paff me.” you open your mouth and jerk back when five little fingers suddenly shoVe a puff into your mouth

grubby!!!!

“you wanna give one to uncle jimin?” you point towards jimin and hwayoung nods before plucking another puff up off the counter

jimin grins excitedly as he makes his way over to the two of you and you turn in your stool so that you and hwa can face him

“어이고 우리 애기 많이 부었네... (oh, look at your puffy little face…)” jimin coos as he cups hwayoung’s face gently with both hands, “귀여워.. (you’re so cute!)”

he leans down to squish a kiss against her cheek and she squawks in surprise

jimin holds both his arms out before wiggling his brows enticingly, “화영아 삼촌한테 와보자! (you wanna come to uncle jimin?)”

“시러용. (no tank oo.)”

wha-

hwayoung turns and buries her face into the crook of your neck and you bite back a snort because jimin looks like he’s about to burst into tears

she usually goes to him!!

it’s just that she’s always a little grouchy after she wakes up from her afternoon naps

“see?? what’d i tell you?! the ‘i hate uncle jimin’ cycle has already begun.” jimin groans quietly, “also, when are you going to give me another baby?”

“give you another baby?”

both you and jimin turn to look towards the kitchen door and you perk up immediately

yoongi!!!!!

the poor man’s been cooped up in the home office all day taking calls

he was supposed to join you and jimin for lunch (you picked up a bunch of sushi rolls) but he never came out of the office and you didn’t want to bother him so you just left him alone

“i said what i said!” jimin crosses his arms defensively before shrugging, “i mean, hwayoung is great and all-”

“there better not be a ‘but’ coming-” yoongi pauses and swoops down to give you a quick kiss, “hi, you-”

“hey, you-” you giggle lightly when he sneaks in another kiss, “are you done for the day?”

“almost. i have another call but it’s not for a couple of hours... you leave any sushi for me?”

hwayoung immediately begins to squirm in your arms which you knoW means that she wants to leave you and go to yoongi

“아빠, 아빠- (appa, appa-)” she babbles mindlessly as she makes grabby hands at yoongi

rude!!

maybe you should have another baby

maybe the next one will favour you over yoongi and then he’ll finally know what it feels like being a THIRD WHEEL

maybe the next one will show hwayoung that you’re just as great as yoongi!!!!

but also if the only reason why you want to have another baby is to rub it in your husband and your daughter’s faces then you probably shouldn’t have another baby

“hi, chunky monkey-” yoongi teases before lifting hwayoung up off your lap and sitting her up on the edge of the kitchen counter, “우리 화영이 오늘 삼촌 말 잘 들었어? (were you a good girl for mama and uncle jimin today?)”

“넵! (ya!)”

#teeny tidbits #ceo!yoongi #ceo!yoongi drabbles #hwayoung

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arhvste · 4 years ago

Note

can i request some hq bois playing w their s/o’s hair? i’m indecisive and i love them all so much so you can choose who skdjsksnjsjs

all haikyuu boys know how to use their hands so i can imagine they’d all be somewhat good at playing with hair 😎

OIKAWA, KENMA AND OSAMU PLAYING WITH THEIR S/O’S HAIR

OIKAWA

oikawa takes care of himself

self care king

from his flawless skin to his silky brown locks

he’s always fussing about with it to make sure they look good

but he LOVES playing with your hair though

the smooth and soft strands of your hair between his fingers?

it calms him right down

he loves the smell of your hair too

sometimes he’ll run his hands through it and bring it up to his face so he can smell it

“don’t you dare get snot in my hair loserkawa”

“snOT??? as if!! i’m not disgusting y/n-chan take that back 😠😔”

he likes to do your hair for you too

he thinks you're gorgeous but when you guys go out he likes to make your hair extra presentable

after you wash it you already KNOW this boy has multiple serums and sprays for your hair aswell as multiple hairbrushes and an expensive hairdryer

so gentle and precise when drying your hair and massaging the appropriate serums into your hair

this boy knows how to straighten and curl your hair to perfection too

it’s like he’s a pro hairdresser

“if volleyball doesn’t work out you always have hairdressing tooru”

“what can i say, your boyfriend is a man of many talents y/n-chan”

he likes to buy you cute little accessories for your hair too

like if he sees a pretty clip or scrunchies or anything like that he’ll buy it for you to wear

in bed he likes to play with your hair the most

he likes when your face is buried into his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and access your hair

it relaxes you both

VERY gentle with your hair

treats it like fine silk and generally helps you take good care of it

but let this boy play with your hair if he’s stressed or upset please

it’s beneficial for you both

KENMA

kenma knows how to take care of hair for the most part

i mean he’s dyed his and sometimes even touches it up a little

but he prefers to fuss over your hair rather than his own

you guys take turns braiding each others hair 100%

sometimes it turns into an unspoken competition

who can give the other the most intricate braid

kenma is delicate and well coordinated with his hands i know he is

is excellent at braids

will often braid your hair for you to keep it out your face for the day

sometimes he lets you braid his hair for school especially in the summer

one time he even let you braid it for a match

braided and then pulled into a ponytail but leaving the longer pieces at the front to frame the sides if his face

that was the day kenma really was one of the prettiest setters the crowd had ever seen

one day you two were sat on the field at lunch and there was patches of daisies

kenma picked them mindlessly and braided them into your hair without you realising

you received a few confessions after lunch unaware the kenma had so carefully braided the pretty little flowers into your silky hair

he was proud of himself for that one

when he plays with your hair its extremely relaxing

his hands work literal miracles on your hair making you melt into his touch

will let you lay your head on his lap while he plays on his phone with one hand and the other is stroking and twirling your hair

also likes the smell of your hair

will sometimes even wash it for you if you’re feeling particularly tired

massages the products into your hair and gently rakes though it when he rinses it out

loves the smell of your freshly washed hair especially

when your cuddled up in bed together he loves brushing the hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear

this is the last time he touches your hair for the night as he gets one last glimpse of your beautiful face before you both fall asleep

100% will press kisses onto of your head and in your hair

he’s not huge on pda

but these kisses are ones that he will happily do whenever and wherever

OSAMU

another boy i think would be specifically good with his hands

this man is a 10/10 chef of course he has to be precise with his hands

will absolutely play with your hair as you cook

he will say it’s just to keep the hair out of your face and away from any hazards

but really it’s an excuse to be close to you and play with your hair

will press kisses on your head and inhale the scent of your hair as it makes him feel close to you

“smells good baby”

“my hair or the food?”

“both”

he loves the moments when he’s pressed up against you from behind as he plays with your hair as you cook

he is pretty standard at braiding

he’s good at the basic ones like fishtail, and french but other ones are slightly loose when he tries

he does like to try out different ones to practice

acts like learning new braids are like learning a new recipe

after 6 months together he is ceo of neat braids

he is also like oikawa in the sense he wants to help you take care of your hair

after all his has been bleached and dyed so he has to make sure his is done so in the best way possible to avoid damaging his locks so he knows a lot about good hair health

LOVES when you offer to touch up his hair and fix his roots

immediately relaxes into your touch as you rake your fingers washing and dyeing his hair

he loves drying yours with the hairdryer

will take such great care in doing so

brushes it out making sure you get no tangles

omg when you do get tangles this man is the one to go to

he is ever so gentle and careful as he does his best to detangle knots in your hair

he definitely carries a brush for you wherever you guys go just in case you need detangling at some point

such a considerate boyfriend

he likes weaving his fingers into your hair as you both fall asleep

will stroke it and rake his fingers through it gently to lull you into a peaceful sleep

wonderful boyfriend and 117/10 hair playing skills

requests are open!!

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neonacity · 3 years ago

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Black Daisies Chapter 5| Canzona

Preview:

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

An NCT mafia AU with OT23.

Summary: Working for the mafia comes with many layers. There’s excitement, violence, loss, and betrayals. Yet there’s also friendship, family, loyalty, and code. The last thing it needs? Love and all the complexities it brings.

TW: violence, death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities. If you’re uncomfortable with any of these, feel free to skip. Author’s note: This is purely a work of fiction. In no way am I supporting all the illegal activities and behaviors that might be mentioned in the story nor am I implying that any member of NCT acts whichever way I may write them here--they’re all sweetiepies that need to be protected.

Chapter: 1/ First Stage

Chapter: 2/Overture

Chapter: 3/The Conductor

Chapter: 4/Crescendo

The fog of smoke from the lighted cigarette mixed with the cold breath coming from blood red lips. A woman stood in a small overhead overlooking the city, watching the shadows move across Seoul like a dark cloud bidding disaster.

The sound of gravel crunching under boots sounded from behind her. She didn’t acknowledge it at first, however, instead dropping the nearly finished stick of nicotine between her fingers to the ground. A gust of air blew the stray stub away, its embers flaring up slightly before dying out.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

For a moment, it was only silence that answered her. Her dress danced in the wind, its red color looking like dried blood in the darkness.

“You were waiting...for me.”

She finally turned around to look at the guest. Her eyes, though naturally sharp, flickered with familiarity as she took in the form of the boy in front of her.

“I know you’re about to do something silly. I’m only here to tell you to stop whatever idea you’re having right now.”

The figure didn’t move in front of her, but the way he stared at her made the distance between them almost crackle with electricity. The man’s jaw tightened, before it finally relaxed just a little bit.

“None of NCT is planning to participate in his game.”

The woman merely raised a perfectly shaped brow, knowing that there’s more to what he is saying.

“But I—”

“Jaehyun. Don’t be stupid.”

“Being the Don means I can do anything I want, right? So you and I can—”

“There is no you and I,” her voice, though it sounded clipped and cold in the meeting hall earlier, had a tinge of emotion this time. Is it desperation? Frustration? Helplessness?

Jaehyun took a few steps towards the smaller figure in front of him, his hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep him from reaching out to her.

“You will be free. From him. From all of this.”

“If you win.”

“And I will.”

“Not after you’ve betrayed your brothers. You know what things this kind of game brings. Don’t do something you’ll regret later.”

He locked his jaw again, his expression intense even under the shadows that wrapped the two of them. Jaehyun finally pulled one hand from his pocket and moved it to touch her arm. The woman took a step back, evading his touch carefully.

“I don’t need to betray anyone. We all agreed on it. Everything will carry out as usual,” he said in a tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. As she looked up at him, she saw the same desperation in his eyes—the same eyes that used to be so innocent before they were hardened by his life in the mafia.

“And you believe them? Look at where you are now, in front of me, telling me you’ll be doing this. You think you are the only one who has a reason to go after the position among all of you?”

“I…” he trailed off, a frown settling on his forehead. “I trust them.”

“With the way you are acting, I don’t think you are worthy of their trust at all.”

Something finally snapped inside of him and he finally closed the distance between them in quick strides. He didn’t touch her, but they were close enough to each other that the cold fogs of their breath mingled in the darkness.

“This is the only chance I have—you have—to finally leave.”

For a moment she simply looked at him, gaze unfaltering. She wanted nothing more than to reach out to his face and cradle it, tell him everything is going to be fine, but even as a flicker of emotion slipped on her gaze, she quickly let her cold mask replace it as fast as it came.

“I don’t need you to save me. Don’t do this.”

Before he could say, or do anything else, she finally took a step back again before turning on her heels to walk away. Jaehyun followed her with his gaze until the darkness swallowed her retreating form.

“Yo, you okay?”

I looked up from squinting at my computer and turned towards the boy grinning in front of me. I probably looked funny, my face all scrunched up from staring at my screen, because he broke into a laugh before dropping himself into the seat next to me.

“Ya… I know Taeyong said you’ll be our first line of defense, but you haven’t peeled your butt from your seat since last night. Relax. I don’t think Cypher is going to do anything—at least not for now.”

My squint turned into a frown and I opened my mouth to shoot back a reply. Before I could say anything though, a painful throb on my left temple made me stop. I barely slept a wink last night. I leaned back on my chair with a defeated sigh.

“You don’t know that, Yuta. Those guys… they’re nasty. If they got the same message that we all got last night, I’m 99 percent sure they’re thinking of something to sabotage us now.”

“Mm… were you able to hack into their system though?”

“Yeah. Their firewall sucks as usual. Nothing seems out of place for now…” I trailed off as my gaze moved across the room. From upstairs, I saw Taeyong slip out of his room in his sweats, hair messy from sleep. He ducked into the fridge on the second floor, rummaging for something there.

After the announcement from the Don, all the members decided to stay in the headquarters temporarily instead of going to their separate dorms to ‘watch each other’s backs.’ It was a good move in my opinion, but another side of me is also a little bit nervous of having everyone around all the time. Not that I don’t like having the guys as company… but I have my personal reasons to be anxious about the recent change in living arrangements.

From upstairs, Taeyong finally managed to fish out one of the tetra boxes of banana milk from the back of the fridge. I didn’t realize I was still staring at him until his eyes finally met mine and he gave me a sleepy smile.

I quickly turned my eyes back to Yuta only to find him giving me a Cheshire grin.

“What?”

“I asked you if you also tried checking temporary databases Cypher might be using but you were too busy eating up breakfast with your eyes,” he snickered before throwing up his hands as if in surrender. “I get it, I get it. All of us are handsome but you only have eyes for—”

I quickly gave him a punch on his left shoulder as I felt blood rush to my cheeks. “I—wasn’t staring!”

“Sure, you were just drooling—”

“Hey, anyone up for some drinks tonight?”

Our childish banter temporarily stopped as Yuta and I looked up to see a very sweaty Johnny stride through the door. He was slightly panting as he approached us, the slight flush of his cheeks a sign that he just finished his morning run.

“Why? You going to Anarchy?” Yuta asked in curiosity as he dug his hands in the front pocket of his sweater.

“Yeah, I have to make sure the dealers are selling the new goods well. I could go alone as usual but our Mom there,” he moved his lips to point towards a still sleepy-looking Taeyong upstairs, “said it is best to go in groups for now. You know, just to be sure.”

Yuta shrugged. “I can go with you. I’ll also ask the other guys too. I sure need a bottle or two.”

Johnny turned to look at me. For the first time since last evening, I felt extremely conscious of how I look. I was wearing an oversized hoodie, my hair up in a sorry excuse of a bun. My glasses didn’t do me any favors, barely concealing the dark circles under my eyes.

“You want to come with us?” he asked, smiling at me.

“Uh… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I have to—”

“She has to watch over the rats, is what she’ll say,” Yuta interjected from his seat. He turned to look at me then with a frown. “Seriously, if you’re going to act like this, you’ll never see sunlight in the next two months.”

I opened my mouth to speak but Johnny was too quick to answer for me.

“Great. You’ll come with us then.”

“But—”

“You can work in the club. I’ll have Jungwoo bring those mini computers you both love tinkering with. You can use them to do your magic codes and spying voodoo, right?”

I stared at him, at a loss for words.

“Good talk. We leave at 9PM,” he flashed me another grin and turned to walk away. I was about to give another rebuttal when my eyes landed on the way his shirt stuck to the muscles of his back. I closed my mouth and sank back to my seat.

Beside me, Yuta was grinning from ear to ear again.

“Don’t you just love it that we’re all staying here now?”

I turned and gave him another punch on the shoulder.

Two hundred miles away from Seoul, a man sat back on his seat as the screen in front of him turned black. The lone light of the overhead lamp in the room made eerie shadows dance across his face as he mulled over the closing words of the Don.

“You are free to do anything you like.”

His impassive face slowly broke into a smile so sinister it almost made his angelic features unrecognizable. He has no fucking idea why the idiotic man decided to start this little game of his, but he likes it nonetheless. A chance to take over the whole mafia sounded so enticing to him that it almost made him laugh, but there’s another reason that ultimately made his blood boil in excitement.

NCT.

“Jihoon.”

He only slightly moved his head to look at the female who cracked the door open to his room. She had the same eyes as him, though hers didn’t look tainted with madness. In fact, it look slightly worried right now as they took in his expression.

“You called for me?”

“Ah, yes,” he finally turned his swivel chair towards her so he could give her his full attention. He intertwined his long slender fingers on his lap and gave her a sweet smile.

“I need you to make preparations. We’ll be going on a little field trip.”

Her questioning gaze almost made him snicker.

“Where are we going? We have a deal to close tomorrow and we can’t—”

“Oh dear, I can’t care less about that now. It can wait.”

The girl pursed her lips. “Fine. Where are we headed to so I can make arrangements?”

The boy leaned back on his seat, head pressed against the headrest. He grinned at her, the emotion playing in his eyes making her blood run cold.

“Seoul. We’re going to visit some friends.”

---

A/N: Hi everyone! Decided to post this today even though it is super short. So I’ve decided to introduce Jihoon... and I would love it if I can have a face claim that I can use for him as a reference. To those who have been following the story, I’d love to know your suggestions! This will make it easier for me to develop him because then I’ll have an idea of how he looks like. <3

Chapter 6: Rapture

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snelbz · 4 years ago

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The Ranch {4}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @tacmc x @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty

Cassian rode until the sun had gone down, and after he had everything put away and Daisy was in her stall to rest for the night, he was crashing into his cabin, still filled with frustration and anger. Beau jumped off the recliner and met Cassian by the door, tail wagging.

After kicking off his muddy boots, Cassian grabbed the bottle of bourbon out of his fridge and slumped down into his recliner before putting the cool bottle to his lips.

As he was out riding Daisy, he felt guilty, at first, for the things he had said to Nesta in the kitchen. He hadn’t been fair, and he knew it. He was pissed, and felt stupid for the entire ordeal, and as usual, he had let out those feelings by way of smartass comments in hopes to get a rise out of her.

It had worked, of course, but a little too well. She had threatened to fire him. He, who had dedicated almost a decade to this ranch, who had put his heart and soul into everything he had done over the last eight years. He loved working the ranch, and she wanted to fire him? Why? Because what they had done was inappropriate.

It was utter bullshit.

They were both there that night, and she had wanted it every bit as much as he had. He remembered the fire, the longing, in her eyes, the soft whimpers escaping her lips as his tongue explored her body. He hadn’t imagined it. She wanted him, all of him, but then she left.

Inappropriate.

The word rang through him, repeated in his mind, like a fucking joke.

He grabbed his phone and called Azriel. It rang three times before his brother answered with a breathless, “Hello?”

Cassian gave a quick glance to the clock on the microwave, seeing it was 9:58 on a Saturday night. The one night that both Elain and Azriel are off work and together. And have given their families strict instructions not to call unless it was an emergency.

“Shit, fuck, it’s Saturday, y’all are- well, you know I know what you were doing, but I don’t want to say it because then I’ll think about it and-.”

“Cassian,” Azriel laughed, cutting him off. “I’m at the gym.” He laughed again as he heard Cass breath a sigh of relief, but explained before he could ask. “They needed El to work a double in the NICU today so she gets tomorrow off. So maybe don’t call tomorrow, yeah?”

He cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. “Right, sorry about that. This would have been real awkward.”

Az snorted on the other end of the phone and the telltale echo Cass could hear in the background told him he’d made his way into the locker room. “Less awkward than that time you took a buckle bunny back to the room in Houston, didn’t tell me or Rhys, and we walked in right when you were about to-.”

“Okay, yes, less awkward than that,” Cass mumbled, all by himself, but still feeling the tips of his ears burn.

He could hear Azriel’s deep laughter on the other end of the phone and when he returned the phone to his ear, he asked, “So what’s got you so out of sorts that you called me on a Saturday night?”

Cassian debated on giving him a little bit of back story, but he’d seen how they were last night. Maybe Az could try and give him a little insight, since he had successfully figured out one of the Archeron sisters.

“I almost fucked Nesta last night.” There was absolute silence on the other end. Cassian pulled the phone from his ear to make sure he hadn't dropped the call somehow. “Az?”

“Rhys and I will be over in twenty.”

The line went dead and Cassian sighed, looking over at Beau. The pup ran over and licked Cassian’s outstretched hand as he said in a singsong voice, “Dad’s in trouble…”

Beau barked as if to say, Trust me, I know. And the pup’s following grin said, And I can’t wait to watch you get your ass handed to you.

Cassian sighed as he fell back in his recliner and waited - waited for his brothers to come give him hell.

Maybe he deserved hell.

He didn’t know.

He took another gulp from the bottle.

Beau jumped up on Cassian’s lap and Cassian let out a long string of curses as he almost spilled his bourbon. Beau was a massive puppy and didn’t understand that he wasn’t a lap dog anymore. Cass didn’t have the heart to tell him either.

Beau was still sprawled across Cassian’s lap, getting his belly rubbed, twenty minutes later, when the cabin door was thrown open.

Azriel was still dressed in his sweaty gym clothes. Cassian assumed he had stopped by to pick up Rhys on the way, who was wearing old sweatpants and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

Beau hopped off Cassian, at last, to greet his uncles as Rhysand said, “Feyre says fuck you.”

Cassian blinked. “Wh- you told her?”

Rhysand shrugged, shutting the front door. “I had to let her know where I was going.”

Cassian groaned. “Couldn’t have said you were just coming over for a drink?”

Azriel chuckled as Rhysand said, “I could’ve, but then I couldn’t watch her kick your ass the next time she sees you.”

Cass leaned back in the recliner, covering his face with his hands. The words were muffled as he said, “She would have figured out a reason to anyways, she always does.”

He heard the couch next to him groan as one of his brothers sat down, but Rhys’ voice came from the kitchen when she replied. “Yeah, but now I don’t have to get my ass kicked when she finds out that I knew, and didn’t tell her.”

Cass moved his hands away to see Azriel shaking his head as he threw his sweaty tennis shoes across the room. Beau immediately chased them to the corner, but a whistle from Cassian had him begrudgingly trotting back to his place on the floor in front of the recliner. He flopped down with a huff.

Azriel, deciding to no longer beat around the bush, asked, “Dude, what the hell? You said you two couldn’t even be in the same room without wanting to scream at each other when you called me the day before yesterday.”

Cassian leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t know, I just- she just gets under my skin.”

“She’s Nesta Archeron,” Rhysand announced, finally appearing from the small kitchen. There was a bottle of cheap whiskey in one hand and three glasses in the other. “The Cauldron made her with the sole purpose of getting under people’s skin.”

“Rhys,” Azriel warned.

He placed the contents on the small table between the couch and recliner and held up his hands in surrender. “Now, Cassian, because you’ve chosen to make yet another stupid decision, and because the three of us chose to make that stupid pact at seventeen-years-old, we’re here to be miserable with you.” He cracked the seal and put the plastic bottle of liquor to his lips, the burn of the alcohol damn near painful. He handed the bottle to Cass and he blew out a harsh breath and shook his head.

He happily took it and chugged much more than most humans typically would. When he put the bottle down and opened his eyes, Azriel and Rhysand were watching him.

Azriel let out a low whistle. “You’re in worse shape than I thought.”

“I talked to her about it this afternoon, too,” Cassian said, head already feeling light. “It didn’t go well.”

“Did you….expect it to?” Rhysand asked, brows raised as they passed around the bottle.

Cassian didn’t reply. He didn’t have a good answer. Yes, he had, but he wasn’t sure why.

“Well,” Azriel went on, clearing his throat. “We’re here to take your mind off of it.”

“Drink,” Rhysand said, handing the bottle to Cassian, once more. He did, but not quite as deeply as the first. “And start at the beginning.”

Cassian handed the bottle back to him. “You both may want to start drinking, too,” he said, closing his eyes and reclining back in the chair.

Rhys did as he was told, but Azriel asked, “And why’s that?”

“Because it all started with me walking into the kitchen in the main house to find her perky, little ass up in the air, in the tightest pair of jeans shorts I've ever seen, and ended with her legs wrapped around my waist and her tits in my mouth, against that wall.” Cassian gestured towards the doorway, eyes still closed.

He heard two more heavy swallows.

“I assume something happened between those two moments,” Azriel muttered.

Cassian kept his eyes closed as he said, “I blame the alcohol.”

“Bullshit,” Rhysand said, the couch creaking as he shifted his weight. “Your alcohol tolerance is impressive, to say the least.”

“We did run into each other, literally, after our shower yesterday afternoon,” Cassian muttered. “That didn’t help.”

A pause, then Azriel said, “Our? As in...together?”

Cassian opened his eyes just to roll them. “No. She was getting ready in the main house, too, I didn’t know.”

Rhysand gave him a knowing look.

“I didn’t know,” Cassian repeated, words clipped.

“Alright, alright,” Rhysand mumbled, laughing quietly as he took the bottle from Azriel. “Not to mention that you drove her to and from the bar last night.”

“We came back here, I invited her in,” he went on, taking the bottle from Rhysand and fiddling with the label. “We drank a little, got to know each other a little… She wanted it.”

“You think every woman wants to fuck you,” Rhysand said, as Cassian took a sip of whiskey.

He leaned forward, setting the bottle on the side table and rested his knees on his hands. “Yeah, well, when you’re playing Twenty Questions, and someone says ‘If given the chance, would you fuck me’, what the hell would you think?”

They were both quiet.

“She...asked you that?” Azriel asked, reaching across Rhys for the bottle.

“Swear on my mother’s grave.” Cassian stood up and began pacing in front of the television. “Gods, I tried to fucking not, too. I took the drink instead of answering the question and then I left her out here.” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it free from the tie it’d been in all day. “I went back into my room and I was going to let her leave and give her some bullshit story about getting sick or something this morning whenever I saw her.” He paused and looked over at that empty recliner, looked at where she’d been sitting just a night ago. “But then I thought, what if I don’t get this chance again? This woman, she’s all that I’ve thought about for the last three days and I just…”

Cassian trailed off and Azriel, without looking away from his brother, nudged Rhys’ arm. “I think we might need that second bottle you left out in the truck.”

“Yeah,” Rhysand said, blinking, before hauling ass out of the cabin. He came back a minute later, with an unopened bottle, as Cassian continued to pace in his little living room.

“Okay,” Rhysand said, settling back into the couch and twisting open the bottle. “Continue.”

Cassian sighed, running a hand, frustratingly, through his hair. “It got a little out of control, for a while...things were getting heated….really fucking heated. Then, she heard my phone vibrate, thanks to you assholes, and I wasn’t going to get it, because, obviously, my phone was the last thing on my mind, but then she kept telling me to answer the fucking phone, so I did.” The words rushed out of him, and as he took another step, he swayed, then cursed. “I looked at the texts, quickly, then when I looked over my shoulder, the front door was open and she was gone.”

“Shit,” Azriel muttered, Rhysand nodded. “She didn’t say anything?”

Cass scooped the near empty bottle from the table and slumped back into the chair. Beau sat up and rested his head on Cassian’s knee. He scratched behind his ear and shook his head, putting his lips to the bottle. He drained the rest of it.

“Should I offer you this before I ask how this morning went?” Rhys asked, extending his hand.

Cassian again shook his head, but stood up and made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a few bottled waters. Didn’t matter if he got shitfaced drunk tonight, he’d still have to be up with the sun to start his day. He sat back down and handed the other two bottles to his brothers.

“It wasn’t this morning, it was about, oh,” he glanced at the clock again. “Three hours ago, give or take.” He took a swig from the cool bottle and set it down. “I gave her space, all day, so she could come up with whatever excuse she wanted, and then when I finally run into her, she’s in this extravagant fucking kitchen, cooking the most delicious looking damn steak I’ve ever seen, and the sun was lighting up her eyes and…” Cass reached for the whiskey again. “She said, it was inappropriate.”

“So she apologized?” Azriel asked, clearly confused.

“Fuck, no, us, what we did, that was inappropriate.” Cassian sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “She says since she’s ‘technically my boss’, we can’t.”

A look of understanding passed between them both.

“What?” Cass asked, noticing the two of them.

“Absolutely not,” was all Azriel said, when Rhys turned to look at him.

Rhys said, “If he’s getting into this thing, he needs to-.”

“Okay, but he’s clearly not getting into it, since Nesta shut him down. I don’t know about you, but I like my balls being-.”

“Oh, shut up, you aren’t even engaged yet, you think you’ll have it bad?”

“Hey!” Cassian said, loudly. They both looked at him. “Someone wanna tell me what the hell you’re talking about?”

Rhysand looked at Azriel. “You brought it up.”

“Fuck you,” he mumbled under his breath, but sighed and looked at Cass. “You didn’t hear this from us and if Elain or Feyre ask, you sure as shit didn’t hear this from us.” Cassian, eyebrows raised, nodded. Azriel looked at Rhys one more time and when he gestured for him to go on, Az sighed. “Nesta nearly got kicked out of the most prestigious culinary institute in France for having an affair with her instructor.”

Cassian stilled.

No one said a word as Cassian stared at Azriel. Even Beau could sense the tension, as he whined quietly, breaking the silence.

“Sorry, what?” Cassian asked, at last.

“Happened a few years ago, at the end of her final semester,” Azriel continued, slowly, cautiously. “She was of age, of course, and he was in his late-twenties. She was in love with him, apparently, but when the board found out...well, it didn’t go well. She had to beg and plead to be allowed to finish school and receive her diploma, and she obviously broke it off with the guy, too. And, considering you are technically under her employment…”

Cassian opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. It suddenly all made sense - at least, it made more sense than it had hours before.

And he had been a complete dick to her, then.

“Fuck,” Rhysand breathed, “you look like you’re about to puke.”

Azriel slowly rose to his feet and hurried into the kitchen. He came back to the living room with the garbage can, and tentatively set it down in front of Cassian.

Who still wasn’t saying a word.

“Dude, do you think you should-.”

The sound of retching is all that could be heard in the small cabin.

“Oh shit!” Rhys cried, jumping back into the seat Azriel had just vacated as Cassian emptied the contents of his stomach into the trash can.

He coughed, bracing his hands on the edges of the can. “I’m a piece of shit.”

Rhys mumbled, “Well…”

“Rhys, shut the fuck up.” Azriel said, and handed Cass his water bottle. “Cass, you’re not a piece of shit.”

He groaned, and fell down to the floor as he opened the water bottle and took slow sips.

He should go apologize to Nesta.

But he also knew he had no right to do so. Even if he tried, she probably wouldn’t give him the time of day.

And he didn’t blame her.

His head was pounding, his stomaching rolling. He closed his eyes and put his face into his hands.

“I need to go to bed,” he muttered, talking into his hands.

Azriel whistled for Beau, who was instantly by his side. He then walked to the front door and let the pup out for his last potty break of the night.

“Go get cleaned up. I’ll let Beau in and lock the door behind us.” Azriel leaned beside the wall next to the door and smiled.

Cassian nodded and stood, stumbling back toward the bathroom. He flipped Rhys off as he went.

The second he flipped on the bathroom light he cringed. His eyes were glazed, his eyelids heavy. After grabbing a rag and drenching it in water, he wiped off his face then brushed his teeth. As soon as he walked out into the hall and into his bedroom, he was falling into his bed. He could hear Beau running through the living room, his tail was wagging as he jumped up next to Cassian on his mattress.

Azriel was scolding Rhysand as they walked out. The last thing Cassian heard him say before they shut the front door was, Way to be a prick, dickwad.

Once Cassian was left alone in the silence, though, his guilt only worsened.

He laid there, listening to his ceiling fan rotate and running his hand down Beau’s belly, and he groaned.

He should text her, tell her that he was sorry for being a dick and-.

He didn’t even have her fucking number.

For a split second, he considered going to her house, apologizing, kissing her, he hadn’t decided yet. But then he realized what a stupid idea that was, and likely to get him fired.

So he laid there, room spinning around him as fast as the fan above him, and waited for the sunrise.

#the ranch nessian #shara collab #throne of ashes and beauty x tacmc collab #tacmc toab tag team #throne of ashes and beauty #tacmc x throne of ashes and beauty #nessian #theranchnessian #nesta archeron #cassian

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