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pearlywritings · 2 years ago

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In father’s embrace

synopsis: HSR men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.

pairings: Blade, Gepard, Luocha, Sampo, Jing Yuan x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, implied initial mortal x immortal in Blade’s

word count: 5.2k words

a/n: Luofu Xianzhou timeline is hell, so Blade’s one is quite vague. Here’s the Genshin version!

Blade

Blade tends to say that he has no connection to his past, but that is not true and very few (mostly Kafka) know he is lying. Even with his life and death fucked up he can't simply let go of someone his heart has been always full with, of someone who he promised himself to by the altar, even if under another name, of someone, who gifted him the joy of both his previous and current life - your daughter.

The blade - a cold weapon with no feelings - should not experience being lucky, but that’s what he was, when you clutched him in your arms the first time after his return from the dead and sobbed in his chest, telling him how much you missed him, how much his little angel missed him.

Back then he should've left without a trace, maybe even coming to you in the first place was a mistake, but he just couldn't. And his resolve crumbled completely when a white-haired toddler in your arms gazed at him with the same soft eyes as yours and reached out to his face, hesitantly asking "dada?".

As much as Blade is capable - he loves you and your daughter. He is quite absent due to his involvement with the Stellaron Hunters, but you understand how important that magenta-haired woman's ability is when it comes to restraining the mara in his body. After all that's the reason why he can visit without fear of hurting you or his little girl.

Some other sacrifices had to be made - one of them was moving from the Lofu Xianzhou, but that was alright and your daughter loved her new environment. Besides, dada has been visiting more often ever since you moved! And no one really bothered or chased after you (after all, you are still registered as his wife and higher ups of Lofu know), which, you assumed, was somehow connected with a young girl that once came with Blade.

Kafka once brought up a proposition of moving you two to the Stellaron Hunters' base for Blade's easier access, but he declined. At least his loved ones should have a peaceful everyday life.

With a tired sigh the black-haired man lowers himself on a sofa in the living room of the house you two purchased to start a seemingly new life. The red-hot iron in his eyes disappears behind the heavy eyelids and for a moment Blade allows himself to relax. The little wonder, that is his daughter, ran to your bedroom to fetch some hair accessories, after you encouraged your husband to let her style his long locks.

He doesn’t move when you sit next to him, hip to hip and heart to heart. He welcomes your sneaking fingers, curling his, creating a secure lock of hands. The weight of your head resting on his shoulder is grounding and he can’t help but press his cheek against it.

It’s soothingly silent.

It almost reminds him of the past.

“For how long will you be staying this time?

Even your question, spoken in a tender, understanding voice, is familiar. You used to ask him the same thing in-between his Cloud Quintet-related missions.

These days it’s difficult to sneak and see you during breaks though.

“Fifteen days,” his breath is even, and eyes are still shut, but he senses a smile that tugs on the corners of your lips.

“That’s a lot. She will be so happy,” and he knows that you are as well.

The rapid stomping of little feet bursts into your peaceful serenity, and you simultaneously glance at the doorway. Low and behold - the soon-to-be hair stylist is proudly running into the room, tightly clutching your jewelry box with various hair pins inside.

“Dad, I practiced! Mom says I’ve been making huuuuuuge progress!”

A tiny smile touches his pale lips - it’s such a miracle that a monster like him is blessed to have the most adorable child in the whole universe. With her and you by his side, this life gets more and more bearable.

“If mom says you’ve been, then it must be the truth,” he nods, letting go of your hand - but not before giving it a little affectionate stroke with his thumb, - sliding down and onto the floor, turning his back to the girl.

Giggling excitedly, she gives you the box, which you quickly unlock, and starts looking through the many intricate pieces of jewelry (many are your beloved’s presents), until finding the perfect one.

Having his hair being touched is weird. He was aware that the white luscious locks used to draw attention, but only you were honored to run your fingers through them, and only his baby was allowed to tug on them, making her father wince. Now it’s different - she is oh so careful, brushing, collecting stray locks and braiding, not once causing him pain.

Blade sighs again, but looks at you from the corner of his eye, catching you snickering in your palm upon gazing at something that your daughter is turning his hair into. Well, that’s concerning.

But at this very moment he can’t bring himself to care. If he gets fifteen whole days before his next mission, he is going to savor this time with his family - no matter how disastrous he’s going to look by the end of it.

Gepard

A family man. So no one was surprised when in the end the leader of the Silvermane Guards ended up with three kids - two sons and a daughter. Partly it was dictated by the rules of nobles and his family among them, but ultimately it was your mutual sincere decision.

It’s obvious he is not there for many of his kids’ first times, as sometimes his duties prevail and even the Supreme Guardian cannot help it, but he really-really tries to be there as much as possible. He appreciates the videos you send him, has every single one stored in his phone’s memory and sometimes, when there is no communication, in his spare moment he replays them to remind himself that soon he’ll return home and see his kids and you.

Only one time he really fucked up because of work - during your first pregnancy you both underestimated the soon arrival of your due date and he left on a mission with his troops, reassured that he’ll be back before the day you go into labor. The snowstorm was severe and the connection was cut, so the message Serval sent him when your water broke was not delivered. His soldiers would bring to their graves the image of a deathly pale Gepard, when many hours later he checked his phone back at the base and nearly broke the screen, trying to type his sister’s number.

After that he started taking paternity leave seriously.

You do not keep in touch with his parents a lot - there were instances where they disapproved of you, but all of his siblings are always welcomed in your house and to see their nephews and niece, because they supported your relationship from the moment they met you in flesh.

Serval is an enormous help when it comes to babysitting. It’s like her part-time job honestly - you even offered to pay her, but she declined, suggesting offering her a helping hand whenever she’d need instead. Oh, and to be the first one out of all the Landau siblings (after her brother, of course) to know about the latest updates on your kids.

The kids that are adorable. All three won the ‘blue eyes’ lottery, which, given the previous generations of Landau, is not a big surprise; both boys look like Gepard, while the girl took more after you in appearance. The man really doesn’t want to play favorites, but sometimes he is just too weak for his little princess, who looks just like her mom. She is the youngest too with a pretty big age gap between her and her brothers, who were born a year apart, so there is literally no jealousy, because your sons took their father’s example and became her protectors.

Even from a 'big bad dragon' that is their aunt…

When you step inside your house and hear the kids still fussing somewhere in the rooms, involuntarily your gaze falls to the old grandfather’s clock in the foye. Almost midnight. All three should be long asleep with Serval sending you a notification of her success. Which you didn’t receive and for that reason had to cut your date short and hurry back home.

Your husband looks as concerned as you are, locking the door and straining his ears to determine what’s going on. With both your coats abandoned, you carefully step further into the house, making your way to the line of light coming from under one of the doors.

Two jaws almost kiss the floor when you see Serval lying on the floor tied and gagged with a scarf. Alone. For a moment you fear the worst.

Rushing inside, you let Gepard search the other rooms for intruders. Helping your sister-in-law to sit is no problem, but the knot behind her head is awfully tightened. In the end you manage to yank it down to free her mouth, quickly switching to the rope constricting her hands.

“Y/n, oh my god,” she gasps, finally able to speak. “Who taught your sons to tie knots like this!? I didn’t know a sixteen- and fifteen-year olds can be so strong-”

“Come again?” Stunned, you stop untying her wrists, looking at the woman with widened eyes. Your boys did what?

“My precious nephews - whom I really do not want to strangle - took the game of knights too seriously, and when - maybe a half an hour ago? - I decided to play the dragon who was stealing the princess - my niece of three years, - they attacked and tied me!”

“Huh…” is all you can say, feeling relief wash over you. At least there are no burglars or kidnappers and your kids are safe.

When, listening Serval’s huffs of complaints, you move to untie her legs, the heavy steps of your husband are heard in the hallway, accompanied by the boys whining and begging their dad not to come to the living room, because the dragon would eat their sister.

His tall figure appears in the doorway, with your daughter in his arms, looking very sleepy, and two almost carbon copies of their dad pulling at his jacket to give them their sister back.

“Serval, what in blazes have you told them?” The judging tone and the squint of his blue eyes are directed at his elder sibling.

“It was just a game, Geppie! A silly game they turned into reality.”

“Aunt said she’d eat her,” your oldest pouts, eyeing her cautiously. “And she told us stories about the cannibals the other night-”

“Serval, you what?”

“Hey, they asked me to! Oh, thanks, Y/n,” she shrugs the loosened rope off of her. “Where did you even get this?”

“Aunt Lynx gave us,” the second son chirps, hugging Gepard’s side. “She showed us how to do knots.”

“This little-”

Suddenly you feel a headache coming. With big family come big challenges, but something of this caliber hasn’t happened in a while. It makes you smile though - you almost forgot what it was like - to raise two boys. Seems like your girl brings the borderline naughtiest out of them.

Luocha

To begin with it's worth mentioning that your and Loucha's marriage started as an unpredictable necessity. You both needed to enter the world that allowed only married foreigners' access. So, quickly figuring that your goal matches, you got married on a neighboring planet, spent a month there to make the marriage more believable in the sense of its duration and learning more about each other. Yeah, all of that just to fulfill your respectful jobs. You invented and rehearsed all the possible answers to the questions, perfected your affectionate act and were actually feeling quite comfortable around each other.

It was almost funny, when on the 'how many kids do you plan to have?' Luocha confidently answered 'two', and a couple of years later your first son was born, and then, after 7 more years, another one was too.

Admittedly, the oldest one was kind of unplanned, but at that point you traveled so much together, shared so many memories, even ended up caring for each other on a lover-like level, that you decided to give it a shot, just like you did with the continuation of your marriage.

And Luocha couldn't be more pleased. Surprisingly, he found the peace of those first years he spent settled down to raise your boy delightful. And there was something exciting about having a little wonder with a perfect mix of both of your features in your arms, as your husband's hand is resting on the small of your back, leading you through the crowds of the new planet's lively market, as the child's eyes shine with marvel, taking in his surroundings.

When Luocha suggested having another one it simply felt right.

Your sons are so lucky in the sense of seeing the universe, because their father is a traveling merchant. Sure, he doesn't always take you and your two boys with him, but whenever his deal allows him enough freedom and your kids are doing great in school and can be taken on a little vacation - you three are going with him.

Usually he gets to take care of the youngest one, since only Luocha's vast knowledge can satisfy his curiosity, while the oldest one calmly walks hand in hand with you, content with listening to their conversation and pointing out to you the things he already knows himself, receiving a soft praise from you and an approving nod from his father.

Back home the roles reverse - the oldest is spending most of his time with Luocha to learn all about medicine and healing techniques, while the youngest is more interested in sharing your hobbies.

The two hardly ever quarrel as siblings tend to do, and it must be because of the overall serene atmosphere of your family dynamic, your soft nature and your husband's tranquil behavior.

More than a decade ago Luocha wouldn't have imagined himself with a wife and kids. Nowadays, however, he doesn't like the thought of not having the three of you by his side.

It is a quiet afternoon. A little house you rented for a little vacation has a nice yard - perfect for the kids to have fun outside. You occasionally glance at them from the window of the kitchen to make sure everything is fine, while your hands never stop moving - washing, cutting, stirring.

At some point you are so caught in the moment of tranquility, that you do not hear your husband walking in, until he softly hums to alert you of his presence, and puts his palms on your waist.

“Smells delicious,” you smile, feeling his chin on your shoulder, and grab a piece of a tangerine you are meaning to use for dessert, offering it to him.

“Mhm, I am trying to cook what we had yesterday at that restaurant.”

Ah, right, the restaurant the kids enjoyed. He remembers how you sneaked to the kitchen and came back with a little less credits, but with new recipes and an excited smile on your face.

“Hopefully my rendition will be to our boys’ liking. And don’t think I forgot about you - those Loufu Xianzhou-style noodles are already on their way!”

“So thoughtful of you, darling,” his silky voice caresses your ear and not a second later a kiss is pressed to your cheek. “Do you need any help?”

“Weren’t you busy?” You decide to clarify, clearly recounting how he locked himself in one of the rooms earlier that day to test something. To your question Luocha shakes his head.

“All done already. And I missed you and the kids.”

“Then go and play with them,” you urge, turning to face him to offer a sweet smile. “I’ll handle it here, but the boys could use some quality time with their father.”

“You say that as if they didn’t drag us all around the city yesterday and then climb into our bed and refuse to leave.”

“I mean, it’s the first time in two months they properly see you. That last deal of yours was exceptionally time-consuming.”

“You kept me updated on them so well and those video calls we had… it didn’t even feel like I ever left.”

You only huff and return your gaze to the stove, yet leaning into his chest a little. For a minute it’s quiet, and the man is taking his time before parting from you. That is until he takes a deep inhale and nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“What for, handsome?” There is that teasing lilt in your voice he came to love. Over the course of your lives together he discovered many things to love you for, and if not for that desperate decision to get married - he thinks he’d hardly ever feel the same about his life.

“For everything.”

He leaves your side with a kiss on your shoulder and the next time you glance out of the window again - he is already there, hoisting his youngest in one arm and chasing after the oldest one with his hair swaying in the gentle wind. And your heart is at peace.

Sampo

In all his life Sampo has managed to never impregnate a single woman and he considers that a success. For all the crap people speak about him Sampo is not an idiot, even though he acts like a fool at times. He is extremely self-aware and bringing a child to this world is probably the last thing on his list.

But no one said anything about someone else’s child, right?

Your and Sampo’s relationship is… strange, not going to lie. One evening you happened to help a scared woman to escape from some drunkards (whom you lately found out were the Silvermane Guards, sober and on duty), only for the long wig to slip and the heavy coat to slide down, revealing shortly cut but nicely styled hair and obviously male broad shoulders. The only thing the man managed to get out was a sheepish “hehe”.

And boy did that “hehe” change your life.

That day Sampo Koski got off the hook, since you didn’t comment anyhow and just let him go, which, given you were an overworlder, he found intriguing. So he dug a little bit, out of pure curiosity. Besides, this man didn't like staying in debt to someone and he needed information to see how he could pay you back.

That’s when he found out you were a single mother. An opera singer, but divorced and with full custody over a six-year old daughter.

And honestly, he didn’t give it much thought at first. He simply arranged a nice bouquet of red roses for you, paid Natasha a little for a handmade plushie and left it all at the door steps with a ‘thank you’ note.

Until a couple of weeks ago, disguised again, he didn’t stumble into a group of kids obviously bullying a little girl, mocking her for not having a father, and throwing something among themselves that she tried to catch. And he recognized the toy. And one glance was enough to see how much she looked like the woman he met only once. And against his better judgment Sampo walked to the children, easily snatching the toy and effectively scaring everyone off. Only with that little girl still being there, eyes full of unshed tears and fingers digging in the skirt of her pretty dress.

That tiny ‘thank you’ when he handed the plushie back to her and she hugged it tightly to her chest made the conman’s heart clench, and for the second time that day he sent his plans to hell, keeping her company near the house you lived in until you arrived from work.

That day he learned many things - how much your daughter loved the toy and what a sweet little thing she was, how tired a person can look and how much a throat can hurt from the whole day of singing during rehearsals, how nice a home-made dinner can be once you are invited, but most importantly - how even such a damned man like him can be gazed upon with gratitude and not from one, but two people.

From that day many other instances happened, but in the end he just stuck around. It was strange, it was new, but in a sense it was comforting, especially when you would come home - on Friday, for example, - and he’d be there, entertaining your daughter and then greeting you with a smile and a silly wave of his hand.

You don’t have a husband, and your daughter doesn’t have a father - but with his presence Sampo Koski manages to fill those voids even if a little bit.

Aeons you love days off. A morning to finally sleep in and do not run around like crazy in attempts to get yourself and your kid ready. Even breakfast wasn’t on you today, because the ‘silly man’ stayed the night and told you to get your sleep, assuring you with that confident puff of his chest that the Sampo Koski would offer you his best service, which effectively made you giggle.

Tonight he even cuddled with you, letting you bury your face in his neck and be a little vulnerable in the arms of a man with whom you had the most peculiar relationship ever. But after such equally peculiar moments you really start thinking of suggesting moving from the couch in the living room to your bedroom permanently. It’s been months already, who would’ve thought.

Barefoot and not even glancing at the robe on the chair near the window you leave the room, rubbing at your eyes and brushing your hair away from your face. You are craving the cup of your morning drink, and so you let your legs carry you to the kitchen at first. However two voices coming from your wardrobe room instantly peak your interest and make you halt in your walking. What on earth could your daughter and your clown of a man be doing there?

And soon enough you find it out.

“Sit still, please!” The girl begs with an eye shadow palette in one tiny hand and a huge brush in the other. “It’ll smudge if you keep turning to the mirror!”

“Just can’t wait to see how beautiful I am, princess, ‘s all~”

There, on the floor among the rows of your clothes and shelves with beauty products and accessories, none other than Sampo is sitting, willingly offering his face to your daughter’s practice of applying makeup. And gods he looks absolutely hilarious.

But that’s not what exactly concerns you.

“Is that my dress?” You point at the red shimmery thing snuggly sitting on the man in front of you and that’s when the two notice you.

“Yes, mommy!”

“Say I pulled it off, right?” With a smirk the green-eyed menace winks at you and it looks even worse with poorly done lashes. You have to stifle your laughter. “Though I must admit, we had to keep it unzipped - my chest appeared to be bigger than yours-”

And that’s when you regret not bringing slippers with you - one flying in his head would be of great help.

“Sometimes I really hate you.”

“Nuh, sweet thing, you love me!”

“Well,” you step closer, grabbing a tissue to try and fix at least the overly bright blush on his cheeks, “maybe. Maybe I actually do.”

Suddenly Sampo is tongue-tied and silent, trying very hard to fight off the stupid grin forcing its way onto his face. But with thoroughly smeared red lipstick on his mouth it looks so damn comical.

“Mom, do you think pa looks pretty?” Your daughter hopefully asks, putting aside her tools, and that little two-letter word doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. You feel a real blush burning under your deft fingers.

“Yes, sweety, Pa-mpo looks very pretty,” his head whips in your direction like you’ve just told him to go and surrender to the Belobog’s esteemed order keepers.

“...Pa-mpo?”

“Would you prefer Da-mpo instead?” Cocking your head in question, you smirk at him, relishing in the pout he is wearing at the moment. “Or maybe Sam-pa?”

“No, thank you very much,” he huffs. “Little princess called me ‘pa’, so be nice and respect it.”

And now it is you who is surprised. You haven’t really discussed with Sampo who he was to your daughter, and who she was to him - but if he is making this step of acknowledging the matter, then who are you to spoil it? Who knows, maybe things will work out quite pleasantly in the end.

“Alright, pa, I will respect that.”

“Hey! For you I am your precious popo baby, a koskiss to your lips, the love of your-”

“Don’t even dream of it.”

Jing Yuan

Yanqing would be enough of an answer to the kid question, but it is not. Sure, his young disciple is practically a son to the General, but it doesn't mean the man doesn't want his own children.

He does and he has. On multiple occasions Jing Yuan's subordinates walked in on him with a small figure sitting in his lap or perched on his strong arm, observing what the dad's been up to with his plans and documents. You scolded your husband for this many times, but the bastard only smiles and keeps stealing his daughter to work to keep him company. Or she sneaks on her own - that caused you many almost heart attacks when she was no older than a couple of decades.

For Jing Yuan it’s all good though - he gets to spend time with his baby and have you inevitably join him in search for your adventurous child.

The General has a separate folder for all the pictures of his daughter on his phone - every single one he takes and every single one you send him when he couldn’t bring his girl to some of his meetings (yet he really tried, until you put your foot down and saved many of his subordinates from the prolonging of said meetings). Even the background, hidden from prying eyes behind the passcode of your and her birthdays, is his little one, cradled in your arms, as the two of you are watching kites flying in the sky.

Yanqing at first was set on treating her with the same respect he does his mentor and you, his wife, but you quickly put an end to it, basically turning the boy into her older brother. He didn’t mind at all - if anything he is sometimes way too eager to push the two of you to go on a date so he can babysit. Often you would return to the two fast asleep either on the girl’s bed or cuddled to Mimi with toys scattered and at least two books lying on the floor. The huge lion adores the girl - sometimes you feel like it thinks of her as its own cub, and the thick mane of hair your daughter got from her father does not help.

And it appeared to be as eager to steal your daughter from you as your husband is…

“Y/n!” You practically jump when the doors to your bedroom fly open and Jing Yuan bursts inside. Immediately you notice his disheveled state - hair down and a mess, the robe he wore this morning for comfortable work in his home office is falling off one of his shoulders and a shoe is missing from his foot.

“Aeons, Yuan, don’t scare me like that,” you put a comb down on your vanity table and fully turn to face him. “What happened?”

“Is our precious baby with you?” He steps further into the room and starts looking around frantically. Okay, now that got worrisome.

“No? You took her earlier this afternoon after lunch to play in your study while you work. Have you really forgotten that? My love, you are getting old.”

You hear clearly as he curses under his breath, raking thick fingers through his hair. The golden eyes look at you and in them you spot a flicker of anxiety.

“...Jing Yuan, don’t tell me that you managed to lose our daughter.”

“I didn’t, I swear,” he winces at the full name usage, watching you rise from your seat and quickly approach him. “She was right by my side, watching the animal videos on my phone, but then I got immersed in the latest reports from the Sky-Faring Commission and when I finished whose - she was gone!”

“Uh, want me to call your phone? Maybe she still has it.”

To that he puts a hand in the robe’s pocket and brings out his device. Oh god.

“It was lying on the floor, still playing videos.”

“Okay, deep breaths,” you are not sure if you are telling it to him or to yourself, but you too take an inhale, meanwhile busying your hands with adjusting his clothes. “Even buried in work you’d still notice if a human sneaked in, right?” He nods. “And you’d notice if she left - she would’ve warned you about that.” He nods again, lips pursed and eyes staring at one point. “Yanqing is not as skilled to come unannounced and take her, and he wouldn’t do it without your permission, so-”

“Wait,” his hand catches yours and realization flashes in his features. “Mimi came.”

“...Mimi?” Before you can ask him to elaborate, your husband turns around and rushes out of the bedroom. Concerned and a little bit intrigued, you quickly follow.

In one of the rooms of your huge house the two of you finally find the lion, and Jing Yuan almost drops on the floor in relief when his girl is spotted in the animal’s embrace.

“Is she…sleeping?” You ask, glancing from behind his broad back.

“It appears so. Hey, Mimi,” the maned head lifts, two ambers taking in your appearances and a pleased huff is let out through the nose upon recognition.

“Well, my dear,” you pat his shoulder, shaking your head, “it appears that people were right - like the owner, like the pet. Congratulations, your lion took your habit of stealing our daughter to heart. Good luck prying her from it.”

“You say it like it’s something hard to do,” there it is, a confident smile is back on his face as he strides closer to the animal, ready to bend down and get his girl. Only for that lift of the corners of his lips to be gone when Mimi growls at him in a warning and shields your daughter’s little body with its head.

You only smirk and leave the scene to go and get your phone - there is no way you are not filming your husband dealing with the consequences of his own behavior.

#honkai star rail #luocha x fem!reader #luocha x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #blade x fem!reader #gepard x reader #gepard landau x reader #gepard x fem!reader #sampo x reader #sampo koski x reader #sampo x fem!reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x fem!reader #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff

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lamb-teaa · 3 months ago

Text

` Doppelgänger Curse

( Experimental Draft Part 1 )

Your life has been fairly normal.

Average parents, average friends, average job - plain yet calm and simple life.

But who would've thought it all came crashing down on you one day when you met her.

A non-Evolver like yourself had always placed your trust and faith in the Hunters of the city, especially during an unexpected Wanderer attack. But the moment your eyes met hers as she pulled you behind her as a shield, the world around you shifted in an instant.

You would've merely chalked it up to coincidence, a similar look-alike, a stranger with an identical face...

.. If it weren't for the fact that the moment she took your hand, rushing both of you out of the building, a strong jolt of electricity shot through your brain, flooding with foreign yet familiar memories in an instant.

Love and Deepspace. Evol. Aether Core.

The sharp pain had you gasping for air as you held your head tightly, you could hear the Hunter's worrying voice as she crouched in front of you, her words faded in the background as you slowly and shakily lifted up your head to look at her.

Then your eyes caught sight of a familiar man behind her.

Love Interest.

Your life has never been the same since then.

She was as stunned as you, but more so she looked quite delighted to see you and began rambling on about how identical you looked to her - whereas you still grappled with the memories of your past life while simultaneously struggling not to go into a panic attack whenever you saw her.

× × × × ×

What would've been thought of as a fateful yet short encounter turned into an unnerving coincidence as you find yourself bumping into Miss Hunter more often than not.

You couldn't really avoid her, didn't have the heart to honestly, given she had quite literally saved your life and unexpectedly she took a fondness for you. A fondness akin to a long lost family - even though you and her both knew that neither of you had any blood relation.

But she was so fond of you, so much so it ended up getting the unwanted attention of a certain man.

Miss Hunter's chosen love interest.

...Or rather, your previous life's chosen love interest.

Although living your new reality up until now, you don't actually know Miss Hunter and her beloved's actual relationship status after meeting her.

Even as she began hanging out in your life more, she never uttered much about him and you weren't the type to pry.

But you weren't blind to the affection he showed around her, from the impromptu gestures to the warmest of smiles he looked at her - you could tell how much he loved her.

If you were back in your previous life, holding onto your phone as you read the sweet interactions between him and her, undoubtedly you'd feel envious and begin punching your pillow and whining along the line of 'why can't it be meeee!'

But now, seeing him real and tangible and terrifyingly surreal, you could only hope he remained his focus on her and not you.

Why?

You liked him in a fictional form rather than in a reality's sense - which is most likely why you had a difficult time liking real men back in your old life.

Because fiction wouldn't harm you.

But this new reality would.

Especially when you knew everything about him.

× × × × ×

Your interactions with him so far are, you'd say, admirably respectable to say the least.

Although you were initially worried in the beginning when Miss Hunter wasn't around or unfortunately had to leave you and him behind when she had to rush for her mission or other matters, you were relieved that he didn't spare much attention on you.

On the contrary, he had expressed his gratitude because Miss Hunter had been livelier since befriending you. You likewise reciprocate the mutual friendship, from both her and him.

However it's still unfortunate when on some accidental occasions, he'd mistake you for her.

"I got you the new plushie you've always wanted."

"...I don't collect plushies."

"That's strange, I thought you'd be out on a mission today."

"...I'm not a Hunter."

"I heard the escape room increased their difficulty levels. Want to try it again?"

"...When have I ever been one?"

"Didn't you have an appointment today? I remember someone keeps forgetting her regular checkups."

"...I don't have Protocore Syndrome."

"Where are you going? That's the wrong direction."

"...This is the direction to my house."

The immediate freeze-up followed by an averting guilt-ridden gaze and a small apology, you couldn't even be mad at him even if you wanted to.

But you can't help but feel annoyed and frustrated.

It's one thing to share an identical face to her, but it's another to have a similar voice and even certain habits and slight mannerisms to her and you can't help but wonder, could it be your fault?

You definitely did customize her, who's supposed to be the player's avatar, to appear identical to you and you wryly thought perhaps it ended up manifesting in this new life of yours. And the only difference you can take a slight solace is that you both didn't have the same name.

… Because you gave your nickname to her in-game instead.

But still, to this extent it is just damn ridiculous

Slowly and surely, you retract yourself from him as much as possible. Even when she asked you out for another hangout together, you'd make sure it's a girl's girls only hangout because you have had enough of being mistaken for her by him.

In your mind, it's for his own sake.

And your sanity's sake as well.

× × × × ×

You remembered playing Love and Deepspace and held deep sympathy towards the MC. To die and reincarnate with no memories and her beloved either died or disappeared because of her.

An endless cycle.

A pitiful ending.

A cruel twist of fate.

Perhaps it was a blessing for her to not remember any of her past lives because you apparently had all the knowledge and memories against your own will, having to carry another person's secret on your own.

A placeholder of her memories.

And for what reason?

You would never know.. But it's cruel, to both her and you.

In your last life you would've joked about Infold being the catalyst of evil to her life and perhaps by some dark magic they possess, to your life too.

But you can't even crack a smile nor laugh anymore. This new life, new reality of yours, is far the cruelest in your entire memory.

A cruel confusing reality that had left you trembling when the dreadful news reached your ears.

'She's gone'

Your Hunter twin, your dear friend, your mirror sister - your doppelgänger other half, had succumbed to a fatal injury during a search and rescue mission.

Leaving the once joyous life she once brought to everyone around her.

Leaving her beloved who ended up spiralling into a heartbreaking rage.

…Leaving you to face the aftermath of her death.

× × × × ×

You remembered how shocked everyone around you was when you brought Miss Hunter into your life all those years ago.

As much as you didn't want to be involved with her, but that one dinner invitation as a token of gratitude for saving you had changed your life forever.

Your parents' astonishment immediately turned heartwarming as even they treated Miss Hunter like their own daughter. You were their only child and given how you knew she was an orphan, you actually didn't mind that your parents treated her as their own - and naturally you did see her as a sister figure. Although the talks about you both being the twins they would've envisioned to have, honestly made you feel torn between wishing she was your real twin sister vs the confusing anxiety rising in the pit of your stomach when you recalled how her life was like.

Your friends and coworkers had their own mixed reactions. Some were appalled and in complete disbelief while some were more dramatic and exaggerating that most of them always commented how they couldn't tell you and her apart. And the fact your parents actually entertained the idea of taking a DNA test between you and her once before only to come back not a match, one of your friends even joked about being doppelgängers and how you two should duke it out according to old folklores. You allowed yourself to indulge in their playful notion with a smack on their heads, despite struggling to push down the uneasiness you felt at being so similar and so identical to her.

And then… then there was him…

You remembered the intense stare and the unsettling silence, like he was analyzing you - reading you. Although it was a mere fleeting gaze before he shifted his attention back to her, you could still feel his eyes boring holes into your back when you weren't looking.

You were relieved, so so relieved when he kept his sole attention on her, even when the three of you hung out together. Even when in the beginning you could tell he felt wary around you as well, but seeing how much Miss Hunter enjoyed your company, he too began easing up a bit.

And that's when the confusion began.

The many times he mistook you for her, the many times he called out her name instead of yours, the many times he unconsciously gravitated closer to you when she wasn't around - it was stressful and aggravating to have to endure.

You thought you could still brush it off, pretend to be oblivious about it and evidently so it wouldn't effect you as long as she was still around to ground him back to reality.

But now she's gone.

And that's.. that's when the nightmare started.

teaa’s end note: this ficlet can be seen as in any of the Love Interest, basically a 5-in-1 scenario between reader and the LIs so hopefully it's not too confusing!

additional note: kinda on the fence on continue writing this but at the same time i needed to let this out so do tell if i should continue with it. thank you for reading and hope you'll have a lovely lovely day!

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rhyslarsenlover · 1 month ago

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DRIVE ME CRAZY

A RAFE CAMERON SOCIAL MEDIA AU

part one . part two . part three . masterlist

a/n: for the sake of this, let's pretend topper and sarah were never a thing, thx <3. also don't miss the golf club scene!

cw: mentions of alcohol & a fight scene. overprotective!rafe.

@ the golf club

y/n and sarah sat at a small table, their coffee cups untouched as they both tried to piece together the aftermath of the previous night.

sarah was watching her closely, her arms crossed. "so, you're telling me you didn’t kiss topper last night?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

y/n sighed, looking down into her cup. "i didn’t kiss him, sarah. i swear. i was drunk. like, really drunk. i can barely remember half of the night, but i know i didn’t kiss him."

sarah seemed to process this for a moment, then leaned in, her voice softer. "john b did mention he saw you trying to push topper off when i messaged him this morning. so you're not into him at all?"

y/n nodded quickly, her eyes darting away. "i never have been. i don’t even understand why he thought... ugh. whatever."

y/n takes out her phone, her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment longer, before sending a reply to rafe. she couldn’t help but wonder why he would suddenly be so invested in her love life. the guy who'd always acted like he hated her, who had practically bragged about making her life difficult.

y/n: this isn’t your problem, rafe. stay out of it.

before she could send it, there was a loud crash from near the golf course area. y/n looked up, and her eyes widened in shock as she saw rafe and topper squaring off. a moment later, rafe’s fist connected with topper’s jaw, sending him stumbling back with a shout.

sarah, who had been watching y/n’s phone, jumped to her feet. "what the hell?!" she exclaimed.

y/n stood up too, her heart pounding in her chest. rafe was standing over topper, fists clenched, his posture tense with fury.

“don’t ever touch her again," rafe growled, his voice low and menacing.

topper sneered, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth. "you think i’m scared of you, rafe? get out of my face."

"maybe you should be," rafe shot back, stepping forward, pushing topper back with a force that made the other guy stagger.

y/n couldn’t move. she was frozen, watching the scene unfold. why was rafe doing this? why was he standing up for her? they were supposed to be enemies.

topper shot a glare in y/n’s direction. “all this for some whore,” he spat, before turning on his heel and storming off, his pride clearly bruised.

rafe's eyes dulled, a chilling expression on his face. he was about to make topper’s life a living hell. then, without a word, he turned and walked toward y/n.

"are you okay?" rafe’s voice was quieter now, though there was still a harsh edge to it. his gaze warmed as it locked onto hers, waiting for an answer.

y/n felt a mix of confusion and frustration bubble up inside her. "i... what the hell was that, rafe?"

he shrugged, his jaw tight. "i don’t like seeing people take advantage of others. especially not you."

y/n couldn’t figure out whether to be grateful or pissed. "you don’t get to act like my protector, rafe. we’re not friends. you’re not even supposed to care."

he didn’t answer immediately, just stood there, eyes fixed on her with something unreadable. finally, he spoke, his voice low. "maybe i care more than you think."

with that, he turned and walked away without another word, leaving y/n standing there, heart racing, her mind spinning. what the hell just happened?

sarah came up beside her, shaking her head in disbelief. “well, if that isn’t proof that he has feelings for you, i don’t know what is,” she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of shock and amusement.

y/n shook her head, still reeling from the encounter. “he can jump off a cliff before i entertain that idea.”

taglist!!: @princesspeaxhh , @cokewithcameron , @lolasangelz , @a-sunflower-in-bloom hope u enjoy my lovelies <3

#rafe cameron #obx #obx x reader #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #rafe obx #obx fic #rafe x reader #outer banks #john b routledge #sarah cameron #rafe cameron smau #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #topper thornton #outerbanks smau #obx smau #obx social media au #outer banks fanfiction

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celestiamour · 4 months ago

Note

Hi, Could you write more about semi x fem reader, maybe the reader helps her not to get murdered? I love semi a lot but there aren't many fanfics about her🥺😭 please

ft. se-mi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ preventing her untimely demise┊0.6k words

setting: season 2, episode 7 contains: canon-typical violence & murder, sorry nam-gyu fans, it’s one or the other, friends to lovers

➤ author's note: i was so mad when she died, why do the squid game writers hate lesbians

it’s difficult to see anything going on with the bright white fluorescent lights constantly flickering, but the sound of screams piercing through the night was enough to tell you that the “special game” had started and it was dangerous to remain in bed. you watched as one of the women next to you cried out in terror as a man used a broken bottle to stab at her chest,, and you immediately jumped out and hit the floor running before he could turn his sights on you.

the first people who came to your mind to search for where your allies were to make sure they were alright, particularly min-su and se-mi whom you’ve become close over the past few days and knew would be targets of their previous group after voting to leave.

you heard her familiar voice yelp in surprise just a little ways from you, the same voice that so often threw compliments at you like they didn’t fluster you so bad you wanted to hide under the blanket and comforted you when you cried about the people who lost their lives earlier that day when everyone else was asleep, sending you into a panic.

as resilient as se-mi was, she was no match to overpower nam-gyu physically as you watched him corner her against the wall, his bloodlust so powerful you could almost smell it with one of the forks given out during dinnertime in hand. you could see a glint of red shining off the metal, indicating that it was already used to take a life.

a glass bottle suddenly came in between them, shattering against the concrete floor. you didn’t even bother to look up, just seizing the opportunity to jump the man from behind and trying to steal the silverware from his grip while he was still in shock. while you couldn’t fully take it from him, you did manage to knock it out of his hands.

you were smaller than him, but you used all of the strength in your body to keep him pinned down once se-mi kicked him in the stomach and picked up the utensil. without hesitation, she began to repeatedly stab him in the neck with it, over and over again, both of you ignoring his pleas and screams knowing that he would have done the same to her without so much as batting an eye. you only got off him when he stopped squirming under your grasp, ignoring the blood that splattered all over your hands, clothing, and face.

it hasn’t hit you yet that you just held a man down for her to murder and you’re sure the guilt will consume you later, but all that matters is that both of you have survived to see another day together. you’ve never been so happy to see those damn guards in their hot pink uniform, even if they were shortly taken down in a matter of minutes to steal their guns for the planned player revolt. both of you

neither of you were allowed to join due to a lack of experience with firearms and being women, but due to the clear determination in your eyes, they did leave a walkie-talkie to call for backup if they needed it.

once the shots fell quiet and were no longer ringing in your ears, se-mi looked at you with a little smile on her face and reached out to caress your face, “you know, i always thought you were really pretty, but i think you look kinda sexy with the blood everywhere.”

“do you really?”

“of course, i do, but we really should wash up”

#📜. her works #se mi #se mi x reader #squid game #squid game x reader

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xzinbdg · 3 days ago

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NO WAY BRO ❕❕

۶ৎ synopsis: sim y/n, sim jake's sister, has known lee heeseung, her older brother's best friend, for ages. In her mind, he sees her like a little sister, but in reality, he has lost all his girlfriends because of his feelings for her, too bad he's afraid of her brother's reaction.

The silence in the room was extremely loud. Sure, you did forgive him, but there were still things to be said, and that’s why you both ran away from Jake and went to your room to talk.

"So…" Heeseung started nervously, "What did you think of my performance?"

"I mean, the song could have been better, but I’m flattered," you smiled, and there was another minute of silence until Heeseung spoke again.

"Y/N, I know I said it already, but I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean for this to turn out that way…" You smiled softly; damn, you really love that man. "I know, Heeseung… Thank you for not giving up on me." Now, you both were cheesing.

"How about I take you out on a real date?" Heeseung asked. "Would you go with me?" he added.

"Of course," you responded.

Three days later, you found yourself in a pretty pink dress, all dolled up in Heeseung's car. He didn’t tell you much about where you were going; he just told you to "dress up for him," so here you were. The ride wasn’t too long; after about 20 minutes of nice chatting with him, you arrived at your destination. The view before you was beautiful; it was a nice restaurant with tables outside and a pretty stream flowing calmly behind it.

"What do you think?" Heeseung asked.

"It’s so beautiful here," you said, amazed, and he smiled while looking at your cute face.

"Our table is the last one close to the water," he said. "It’s extremely difficult to book it because it’s the best one here." You nodded, admiring his efforts.

The two of you headed inside and sat at your seats. The view was amazing; the moon reflected on the water, making it glimmer. You were truly happy in this moment. The two of you ordered dinner and just talked while enjoying your meal.

"So, umm, Heeseung? What are we?" you asked nervously after preparing yourself to say it.

"What do you want us to be, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Something more than friends…" You avoided his intense gaze.

"It’s good that I feel the same way then." He gave you a smile when you looked at him. "Does that make me your girlfriend?"

"Only if you say yes," he said.

"Yes to what?" you questioned.

"May I be your boyfriend?" you giggled at his words.

"Yes."

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

written part: 399 words.

۶ৎ pairing: brother's best friend!heeseung x reader

۶ৎ genre: smau, brother's bestfriend, forbidden love, angst, fluff, crack

۶ৎ emi's note: HELLO!!! I'm back! sorry for the long absence; it was the holiday season, and then I was about to graduate, and it all just piled up. but I'm back! here’s a question: is it better when I put the second taglist in comments or as a repost? as you can probably notice, I switched natty for wonyoung, and we have sungho as a new character! lastly, kind of on another note, but I'm thinking of coming back to writing for riize! let me know what you think. hope u enjoyed!!

۶ৎ taglist: @callikari @imanalien143 @kekaekeke @4lndr17 @ijustwannareadstuff20 @bejewelledgirl @jokkomizz @octoberoflove @swanwonyoung @mheretoreadff @s1rawb3rry @heeheelee @m1kkso @ayyonoona @augustloaf @lovenha7 @kukkurookkoo @honestlyatomicpanda @httpenhoon @noiiny @i03jae @celli-ohs @lilliansreality @jvngw0nlvr @starbyeol1512 @enhaz1 @lhseungg @sillyyuz @jiaant11 @wintereals @taehyuniesworld @fancypeacepersona @eyesonlybutterflies @yuyita-rosier @right-person-wrong-time @norihoyeon @simjaeyunies @rairaiblog @orimuraa @daniellesyellowhands @n-i4 @w2hoonki @ilovhoonie @jae-n0 @doveblackboat @ningningiloveumarryme @hyunjinslonglegs @jyikeu @reikaxslvr @teddywonss

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teenidlegirl · 2 months ago

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Ɛ⠀⠀BEAUTY OF THIS MESS⠀⠀ .⠀۟⠀۪⠀ು⠀⠀CHAPTER 21⠀⠀Ȝ

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

♡ྀི⠀⠀·⠀⠀summary⠀⠀ ੭⠀⠀you’re nine months pregnant and your baby could arrive at any moment. you and miguel are excited until he’s called back for a dangerous mission, left to deal with the hardest decision ever, leaving you and the baby.

♡ྀི⠀⠀·⠀⠀content⠀⠀ ੭⠀⠀angst, some fluff, pregnancy, heartbreak, arguments, emotional distress, firearms, mentions of violence, mentions of death, military things, sorta hurt/comfort

𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠⠀⠀previous⠀⠀⋅ ౨ৎ ⋅⠀⠀masterlist⠀⠀⋅ ౨ৎ ⋅⠀⠀next⠀⠀𓊇ྀི

time has passed and you’re 9 months pregnant and your due date is three weeks away. while feeling utterly exhausted, you and miguel are excited for your daughter to come and start your life as a family. everything is prepared when the time comes. hospital bag filled with everything you need, nursery set up looking pretty for your baby girl, the entire apartment is baby-proof which was miguel’s doing. until you find another apartment or a house, which miguel has been house-hunting for months now, your apartment will be your home for your little family. you two couldn’t be more excited for this.

you, especially, are excited to pop out this baby because damn you are tired as hell. you told miguel no more babies after your first because pregnancy is exhausting. well, at least no more babies for a long time since who knows if you and miguel wish to have more in the future. he can’t blame you after seeing the exhaustion on your face during these last few months. but for right now, this baby is all you need and you can’t wait to meet her.

“i just realized we don’t have a name yet.”

you and miguel sit outside the patio of your apartment, sunbathing while enjoying a bowl of fruit. you wear a simple periwinkle babydoll dress with daisies, your large baby bump sticks out adorably in it. the bowl of fruit rests on top of your belly as a table, a tiny plastic bowl of course, easier to eat from. your legs rests comfortably on miguel’s lap as his large, calloused hands caressed them.

“oh, you’re right. we haven’t thought about one.” his brows furrowed slightly, thinking as miguel takes a few grapes from the bowl.

“all this time, three weeks until she’s born and we still haven’t thought of a name for her.” you giggle, munching on a few of your favorite fruits.

miguel huffs, grinning. “great parents, huh?”

you think as you feed him a strawberry. “any ideas?”

he ponders for a moment of possible names but nothing comes to mind. “not really, ¿tú?”

no ideas popped in your mind. “nope.”

“what about your name?”

you wipe off that smirk on his stupid handsome face by feeding him another strawberry.

“we’re not following that damn hispanic tradition of naming your first kid after you.”

miguel chuckles at your bluntness. “just an idea.”

“my sister wasn’t named after my mom because she hates her name and didn’t want to do that to my sister so we’re gonna do the same thing.”

“you hate your name?” one of his thick brows arched.

“well… no. i didn’t say that! there’s one person in this family with my name and that’s me.”

that elicits another chuckle from him. “i’m just messing with you, bebé. but i love your name.” he leans forward and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

you roll your eyes, shyly smiling. “thanks.”

while munching on fresh fruit, no name ideas popped in either of your heads.

“ugh! why is it so difficult to come up with a name?” you slouch in your seat grumpily.

“we still have time, we’ll figure out something.” miguel reassures you, rubbing your swollen belly. “don’t stress about it, okay? it’s not good for both of you. it’ll come to us one day.”

a sigh escapes your lips. “hopefully.”

another kiss on your forehead. “for now it’ll be princesa.” his hand caresses your swollen tummy which results a kick from your baby. “she likes it.”

you hum happily, leaning against him. “i love it when you call her that, it melts my heart.”

his arm wraps around your shoulders, embracing you comfortably as his other hand grabs the bowl from on top of your belly and holds it. “i’m glad to know. she is mi princesa y tú mi reina.”

you lift your head up and look at him with a loving smile. “té quiero, mi osito.”

miguel’s heart flutters every time you call him that. you consider him your big teddy bear and he loves it. resting the fruit bowl beside him on the sofa, his hand gingerly cups your face as he leans closer and captures your lips in a gentle, loving kiss. your hand does the same and cup his cheek. the kiss is interrupted by a faint kick in your tummy.

you pull away with a giggle, caressing his cheek. “every time we kiss, she always kicks.”

“maybe she’s happy that her parents are in love.” a silly grin plastered on his face.

“they are and her parents love her.”

you and miguel go in for another kiss, resulting in another faint kick. you agree with miguel, your baby girl is happy that her parents love each other. you want nothing more than your daughter to grow up with loving parents and who love each other, to demonstrate a loving relationship.

later in the evening, you and miguel just finished having dinner. tonight was ravioli, a craving of yours which miguel had no problem making. he loves cooking for you, one of his many acts of service. you also love his cooking, he could be a chef as a side job. you told miguel once that he should have his own cooking show. he laughed and said that you should be the one with a cooking show, he adores your cooking. maybe a couple cooking show.

you rest on the couch watching a movie while miguel cleans up the kitchen. the man won’t let you touch or lift anything, just like throughout your entire pregnancy but is even more insistent about it since you could pop at any moment. in the beginning you were against it but not so much anymore considering your basketball sized tummy. besides, you get to watch your boyfriend maneuver around. admiring those bulging muscles ripple as he moves. biceps, shoulders, back, thighs. all so scrumptious.

once the dishes were washed and stored away, miguel makes a quick visit to the bathroom but not before leaving a kiss on your forehead then finally making his way over there. after doing his business and while washing his hands, he feels his phone vibrating in his back pocket. quickly drying his hands with a towel, miguel reached behind with a hand, grabs his phone and sees who’s calling.

‘IRONHEAD’

flash is calling him and that’s not a good sign. there are only two reason why he would call him: either for a mission or get-together with the team. miguel really hopes it is the second option even though he isn’t in the mood to go out, not with you about to give birth soon and he told the guys that.

exhaling deeply, miguel presses the green button and brings up the phone to his ear. it was a very long, hectic conversation. frustrated groans, mumbling, and swear words thrown around. it was so long that you eventually got worried since he has never taken that long in the bathroom. miguel knew you would eventually make your way over here. finally, he hangs up and heads back to the living room with not so good news hanging heavily on his shoulders.

you’re about to get up until miguel enters the room. the relief smile on your face falters when you notice his anxious expression. thick brows furrowed and eyes filled with apprehension.

“what’s wrong?” now your brows furrowed.

another long, deep breath of anxiety escapes his lips. “we need to talk about something…”

suddenly, your heart starts beating fast with anxiety. oh that isn’t good and honestly you’re scared. the moment miguel sits down next to you, the tension settles in. thick, heavy, and unsettling. both of you are nervous wrecks but miguel is more anxious since he’s about to tell you the worse news imaginable. he can already envision the tears of anger and frustration that will soon come in a few seconds.

“flash called me…” miguel starts off, his hand seeking yours and gently holds it. god, he feels like dying of anxiety. too afraid to speak the truth but mainly your reaction and where this conversation goes. “there’s a mission that i can’t back out.”

your brows furrowed a bit more. a mission, okay. the man is in the military, it’s bound for missions to come up. however, they can vary and the apprehension on miguel’s face say this isn’t an ordinary mission.

a shaky breath escapes his lips as miguel prepares to spill the unfortunate news of all.

“it’s in south america and… i don’t know long it’s gonna take and i have to fly out tomorrow.”

you feel your heart drop so suddenly. a plague of anxiety invades your veins completely, coursing through your body so viciously.

“t-tomorrow? what do you mean tomorrow?” you panic. “you can’t leave, not right now.”

“i know, baby, i know.” miguel squeezed your hand reassuringly, his heart breaking at your panic state. “i don’t want to leave either but i can’t back out on this, i have no choice—”

“you do have a choice!” you stand up abruptly, as much as you can due to your heavy tummy. “you don’t have to leave, miguel! you can’t leave!”

his heart continues breaking. “mi reina, siéntate por favor.” miguel tries to reach out for your hand to calm you down but you back away from his attempt.

“no, miguel! you can’t leave! she’s almost here and you’re leaving?! i need you here! she needs you here!”

he knew it would reach to this breaking point. you panicking, crying, and begging to him to stay. each cry is a stab to his heart. miguel hates seeing you cry, especially when he is the reason for it.

miguel stands up, a remorseful look in his eyes. desperate to reach out and pull you back into his arms. “mi reina, i know. i want nothing more than to stay here with you and be here for you and our daughter. i don’t wanna leave you two, it’s the last thing i want and i fucking hate leaving you. i told flash no many times, that i refuse to go. he understood, he and the guys don’t want to do this either but command left us with no choice and said the mission won’t be successful without me.”

all you do is keep shaking your head no, refusing to believe this is happening. the love of your life, the father of your child is leaving you for god knows how long before the birth of your daughter. suddenly, it feels like your world is crumbling. everything is crashing down like a paper plane. one minute you were enjoying fresh fruit and sunbathing while discussing possible baby names, then your boyfriend has to leave you and your baby for a mission in another fucking country for an unknown amount of time. how the fuck did things change so drastically?

“no, you can’t.” you keep shaking your head in denial as tears spill uncontrollably. “you can’t leave. she’s almost here, miguel. she’s almost here and i can’t do this alone, please don’t do this.”

miguel’s heart continues breaking immensely at the sight of your tears. it triggers his own tears to fall. “lo siento, mi reina. lo siento mucho.” he attempts to reach out for your hand and you don’t fight back, bringing you closer to him into his hold.

“miguel, por favor.” you look up at him with pleading, glossy eyes. “please don’t leave me… not again…”

fuck, that shatters his heart completely.

he left you once, broke your heart, broke your trust, and he forever hated himself for that. now miguel has to do the one thing he swore to leave do again, only this time he had no choice. now he hates being in the military. he has to leave you and it fucking hurts, especially to leave you when your baby will arrive soon. miguel doesn’t want to miss the birth of his daughter. he needs to be there for her, for you.

why did it have to be now?

at this moment, he hated being in the military.

“lo siento mucho, mi reina.” his calloused hands gently cup your face and wipe your never-ending tears. “i don’t wanna leave you and our baby. not again, mi reina. i’m so so sorry…”

your apartment is filled with the sounds of your sobs. both of you are crying at this moment. you completely break down and miguel doesn’t hesitate to pull you to his chest and embrace you tightly, feeling your trembling figure in his arms. afraid to let you go, doesn’t ever want to let you go.

the rest of the night was a sobbing catastrophe. the four walls of your apartment concealed with your heartbroken sobs and pleads.

what if he doesn’t come back?

what if he’s killed in combat?

what if, instead of celebrating the birth of your daughter, you are mourning the death of your boyfriend?

the excitement of becoming a family now ruined.

the day you and miguel have been dreading has come. the day he leaves for south america. since you’ve been crying all night, you feel utterly exhausted besides feeling depressed. you sat there in bed all miserable watching miguel pack up and get ready for his departure. every time your eyes meet, miguel had a guilty, remorseful expression. it pained him to see how miserable you looked. those tearful eyes silently begging him to stay, stop packing, dive back into bed with you, and stay with you forever. miguel hated this just as much as you do.

despite how much he hates to leave you, there is only one person miguel trusts to take care of you while he’s gone. he contacted his mother and ask her to stay here with you until he returns. the woman did not hesitate to agree and make her way over. you didn’t bother to argue, too busy being miserable. but truth be told, you actually don’t mind conchata staying here and helping out. you would love to spend more time with her, you know she’d do anything for you and the baby. she’s pretty much your mother-in-law. you agree with the plan. however, you still wish for miguel to stay.

through teary tears, you watch miguel return from the bathroom clad in all black attire. even feeling miserable, he still manages to take your breath away. he approaches the nightstand, opens the drawer, and takes out his pistol that he keeps here ever since he’s been staying at your place. protection purposes of course. miguel won’t take any risks, especially when it comes you and the baby. no harm has come yet the man is accustomed to securing and protecting. after checking the clip of ammo and putting the safety on, miguel shoves the pistol in the back of his pants and covers it with his shirt. his eyes meet yours once again but this time you look away, concealing the tears already spilling. his heart aches every time, so much guilt plaguing his body.

eventually, conchata arrives to see the heartbreaking sight in front of her. her son prepared to leave for another dangerous mission and her future daughter-in-law silently crying. you and miguel are in the living room by the time she gets there. she greets her eldest with a hug and kiss before approaching you.

“oh mija…” she gently pulls you into a tight, comforting embrace which you accept immediately and softly sob into her shoulder.

miguel observed solemnly, heartbroken for you and dreading his departure. he really doesn’t want to go, not to leave you crying and begging for him. he didn’t want this yet he was left with no choice. the ringing from his phone snaps him out of those depressing thoughts. a text message from flash saying he and the guys are here waiting in the car outside.

it’s time to leave, unfortunately.

breaking your embrace, conchata gives your arms a comforting rub with a soft reassuring smile before walking over to say goodbye to her son. miguel embraces his mother, exhaling deeply.

“té amo mucho, mijo. lo prometo. cuídate mucho, mijo, por favor.” she glances up at him. “make sure to come back to your family.”

you and your daughter. his beautiful family.

miguel silently promises to not allow his mother to lose another son, to not leave you a widow and single mother, to not leave his daughter without a father.

he will come back, he’ll make sure of it.

“lo prometo, mamá. té amo.” he plants a kiss on her scalp and embraces her one last time before he moves on to you, conchata stepping aside and turning around to give you both privacy.

instinctively, your head starts shaking as tears swell in your eyes for the nth time. “please don’t go…” you grip onto his shirt as if you’re terrified to let him go.

his heart continues to shatter. “lo siento, mi reina.” miguel’s strong arms wrap around you and hold you close to him, as much as your swollen belly allows you which is lightly pressed against his abs. “i promise to come back to you and our baby. i swear it, mi amor. i will come back to you both.”

his sincere words make you break down uncontrollably. you know miguel will do everything he can to come back home to you and the baby. you know he doesn’t want to leave as much as you do. you sob into his chest as his arms tighten around you, holding your trembling form. one last hug before he disappears for who knows how long. one last time to be with each other before parting ways.

miguel leans down, you reach up and capture each other’s lips for one final kiss. a kiss that you wish it could last forever. calloused hands gingerly cup your face. you grip onto his wrists tightly, afraid to let him go. savoring this one final kiss, savoring the taste of each other before drifting away. miguel gives you one last kiss then kneels in front of your swollen tummy and adorns it with loving kisses. your fingers gently brush through those soft brown curls one last time.

“i promise to come back to you, mi princesa.” he whispers against your belly, earning a faint kick which makes you both smile sadly. rising to his full height towering you, he cups your cheek. “i’ll come back to you, mi reina. té quiero tanto.”

“té quiero.” you desperately reach out to tug on his dog tags and bring him down for another final kiss which is sadly interrupted by miguel’s phone ringing, making him groan in frustration.

miguel whispers you a final ‘i love you’ before parting ways and grabbing his black duffle bag from the kitchen counter. you start sobbing more as you watch him preparing to leave. conchata turns around and approached you with open arms. sighing heavily, miguel turns around to look at you both one last time with a remorseful expression before opening the door and walking out, closing it behind him. you broke down once again as you watch the love of your life leave for the second time. conchata brings you into her arms and embraces you deeply as you sob. the four walls of your little apartment conceal the heartbroken sound of your sobs and wails.

your life is changed once again by a unfortunate incident. however, this time hurt much more.

that same guilty, agitated expression never faltered as miguel geared up and sit in his seat of the helicopter. his clothes covered with tactical gear. bulletproof vest, tactical helmet with night vision goggles attached, another pair of goggles that are ballistic meant for eye protection, his pistol as a secondary weapon stored the holster strapped on his right thigh, and additional equipment. a rifle in his hands while waiting for takeoff.

the rest of the squad are strapped in. flash next to miguel, ben and kaine seated across from them. as the engine starts, flash notices miguel’s somber expression which causes him to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. miguel flinched at the contact but immediately recognizes his teammate.

“you’ll make it back to her, both of them.” the blonde gives his teammate’s shoulder a light pat.

miguel sighs heavily, lowering his head with a head shake. “i feel fucking terrible leaving her. leaving at the worst fucking time imaginable.”

the blonde frowns remorsefully. “i know man, i gave command shit but of course they don’t give a fuck. lets just hope this shit isn’t a long one and you’ll be back in time before your kid comes.”

the brunette simply nods. miguel really hopes he’ll be back in time before the baby is born so he can be there for you when the day comes. sitting by your side, holding your hand in his as you welcome your daughter into the world. a dream he wants to come true. he’ll do anything to make it come true.

“appreciate it, ironhead.”

flash pats his shoulder a once again. “always, man.”

the helicopter finally takes off and the men’s journey to south america begins. throughout the flight, miguel only thinks about you. never once you left his mind. he knows you’re struggling with his departure but his mother is there to care for you. he knows you’re safe and being taken care of. but the guilt still lingers in his heart. he would rather be at home with you than stuck on this damn helicopter. however, miguel will do whatever he can to come home to you.

he won’t disappear forever this time.

𓈒 ࣪ ᠀⠀⠀𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓⠀⠀♡⠀⠀@reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever @ibelyss @imissubaee @demonic-bird @fandomtrash5092 ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

#⠀⠀૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა⠀˚⠀.⠀ℬ𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝒪𝑓 𝒯ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℳ𝑒𝑠𝑠⠀ ྀ⠀.⠀♡⠀#miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #military!miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #across the spiderverse

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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Hiii!! Im really obsessed with your camp counsellor!james ,,, do you think you could do like a follow up of the previous one where they go to the bonfire tgt?? Love your writing and have a good day 🫶

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!! You have a good day too <3

cw: alcohol

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 897 words

James doesn’t know how much of your closeness to blame on booze.

It feels a bit silly to be so loose and laughy at nine pm, but he and the other counselors only have until ten thirty before the kids get out of their movie night. James suspects some of them are going to have to take a quick dunk in the lake before they rejoin their campers.

You’re not the least squiffy there, having had exactly as many beers as James but without the large frame to support them. You’re sitting close enough that your thigh is pressed to his on the wooden log, and when you gesture your arm brushes his bicep with every movement.

“No, no,” you’re saying, laughter ringing in your tone, “James is the kids’ favorite. No contest.”

“Ava’s cabin is huge, though,” another counselor argues. “She’s got kids that come back just to see her every year.”

“Yeah, but it’s only James’ first year.” You don’t catch the bit of pique in the more seasoned counselor’s voice, defending your stance lightly. James, roasting marshmallows for the both of you, keeps his mouth shut. “If he comes back next year, he’d have kids fighting over his cabin for sure.”

“I could never handle as many kids as Ava does, though,” James says, pulling the flaming marshmallows away from the fire and blowing them out. “Here, lovely, do you have your stuff ready?”

The distraction works. You hold up your graham crackers and chocolate eagerly, capturing a marshmallow between them and pulling it off the stick.

“Can’t believe you’re one of those people who just burns the whole thing,” you say. “I expected better from you, James.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were being beggars and choosers tonight.” He glances over as he readies his own s’more supplies, and you’re grinning, your eyes crackling with amusement and something else. “How do you like them done?”

“I take my time with it, so the outsides are brown but the insides are all melted.” You take a bite, not seeming too displeased despite the subpar quality of his marshmallow roast. “It’s like a brûlée.”

A laugh trips off James’ tongue. “Oh, it’s like a brûlée, is it? Fancy.”

You hum in prideful affirmation, polishing off your s’more quickly. James tries not to look too obviously pleased when your head drops to his shoulder.

He holds his s’more away from your hair, turning towards you to say lowly, “I appreciate the compliments, but you’re gonna get me in trouble. Some of the other counselors have been coming here for years.”

You make a breathy sound of amusement. “I’m just telling the truth. Look at this.”

You reach down and take his forearm in your hand. Warmth seems to emanate from your touch. James lets you bring his wrist up to eye level.

“Basically every kid at camp wanted to make you a friendship bracelet,” you say before letting his arm drop. It lands in the crease between your thigh and James’. “They all love you.”

Your head moves, face tipping back to look at him. You look really pretty. It’s hardly the first time James has noticed tonight, and certainly not unusual for you, but the firelight plays soft over your features and you’re smiling more than usual so he’s having an especially difficult time keeping his eyes off of you. Especially when you look at him like this, all sweet and happy with the light from the bonfire glancing across your eyes and your cheek squished into his shoulder. The sight of you makes James’ stomach ache.

“You’re everybody’s favorite,” you murmur.

The conversation around you fades into an indistinct thrum. You’re so close James can count your eyelashes, can feel your warm breath hitting his chin. If he were to kiss you, he knows you’d taste like graham crackers and chocolate and marshmallows roasted not quite the way you like them. Maybe his lips would still be a little sticky with the same, unwilling to let you go.

James really wants to kiss you.

You take in a soft, quick inhale, and then your face turns back the way it was, looking towards the bonfire instead of up at him.

“That’s how I know no one will get mad at you,” you say. “You’re too easy to love.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” he replies. He reaches across you to finger the set of bracelets on your own wrist. “And maybe yourself not enough.”

You make a dismissive sound, nudging James with your elbow. “You’re going to have to bring yours with you if you come back next year. If the kids see you without them, it’ll break their little hearts.”

“Oh, I’m never taking these things off. Five hundred years from now, someone could dig up my grave and they’d just find a pile of bones and a bunch of string bracelets.”

Your body shakes against his as you laugh. The sound of it is as bright and clear as the stars above your heads, and in James’ opinion thrice as lovely.

“I’d be surprised if they last that long,” you say. “Hopefully they’re not the only thing you have to remember this place by.”

James still wants to kiss you terribly. He appeases the urge by dropping his lips to your head. “No, I’m not worried about that.”

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered The Door

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter one of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Present Day

Your head rests against your forearms on your desk, jerking upwards as a loud rhythmic knocking assaults the front door of your apartment.

What?

You think to yourself, rubbing your face with your hands. Your sketchpad was laid open on your desk beneath your head, the rough sketch of an egret bowing its head along the bank of a small pond splayed over the page in shades of gray. It would be the first in your new series of nature paintings that you would be unveiling in a month.

At least I didn't poke my eye out with the pencil. You think eyeing the sharpened point of the pencil that was dangerously close to your face a few seconds ago.

You turn your wrist to glance at your watch and note the time. It was an antique, square faced and strung on a simple black band, a reminder of a past life that you couldn't bear to part with.

Who would come see me at 8:00 am on a Monday?

For a minute you try to remember if you'd received a call from the curator of the gallery downtown, or if there had been a meeting or a lunch with your agent to discuss your next installment of work, but nothing comes to mind.

When you officially retired from being a hero you decided to become a full time artist, a hobby you had since you were a child. You hadn't expected it explode. You had enough money from your heroing career to live several lifetimes, not unwelcome given the fact that you couldn't die, not in the traditional sense at least, so art was supposed to just be a way for you to off steam. But you were happy with your life now, a lot happier than you had been when you were a hero on Payback. The thought of your previous employment with Vought sours in your mouth followed by the unavoidable thought of Ben that you push down with a well practiced sigh.

You didn't feel like reliving all that over again right now, though you knew it would probably happen later. It came in waves, especially at night when you found it difficult to sleep, the melatonin wasn't working, and all you really wanted was a hard drink.

Sobriety sucked.

The knocking persists, rattling around in your head like a bee trying to get out of a plastic cup.

"Fine. I'm coming." You shout standing up from your desk and making your way from the wall that serves as your studio towards the front door of your apartment, while trying to rub away the line the page made on your cheek.

Your apartment was the one extravagance you allowed yourself. Despite the amount of money you had, flashing it had never been a priority even in your hero days. The apartment was open concept with exposed brick walls, tall North facing windows that angled away from the inside and jutted outward over a raised wooden floored area that served as your studio. A large modern kitchen sat just to the right of the front door with stainless steel appliances, on another wall a tv hung above a leather couch and held a dark hallway that lead to your bedroom and the guest bedroom, the other walls were covered in your work, and the final wall held several bookshelves with art supplies and your vinyl record collection. A collection you started forever ago and that continued to grow with each passing year.

Need to get another bookshelf. You note looking at the limited space that remained.

You look through the peep hole in the solid metal apartment door. A tall dark haired man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a black duster and a thin younger guy with brown curly hair stare back at you.

"I don't want to buy any girl scout cookies." You shout through the heavy metal of the door.

The younger guy snorts.

"y/f/n y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

At the mention of Ben's hero name you pause. You had avoided thinking about your former best friend as much as possible over the past forty years. Your relationship with Ben was complicated, the final few days you spent together even more complicated than the early years.

It hurt to compare what your life with him was like before you both became supes to the life you had together after. You had grown up together, forced into close proximity because your parents were friends and then became best friends yourselves. You stayed friends, before you both got injected with Compound V and a few years later moved on to Payback together. You were the only person able to keep Ben in check and as violent as his temper was, he didn't like to cross you. You were the only person who knew the real him, had been with him longer than anyone else. Not that he ever admitted that to you or admitted that he cared about you, but you thought somewhere deep down that he had to, felt at least something for you.

That was the problem. You were in love with him, cared deeply about him, cared more about him than anyone else you'd ever had in your life. On the night you finally slept together you were happy, you thought he felt the same way, and then the next day at his premiere you found him in the bathroom with Countess bent over a sink. The fight that followed had been your resignation from Payback and also the reason why you weren't there when Ben died.

Your jaw clenches together at the memory, followed by guilt. You were always there for him, you had his back just as he had yours, but the one time you hadn't been there-

You open the door to look at them. "The singer?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The artist? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua. Both of you were standing in your supe suits, your own was a sleeveless black one piece suit with purple embellishments that traced from the sides of your ankles and stretched up under your armpits, while a dark hood covered your head and a black mask hid the bottom of your face. You always thought you looked more like a supervillain in it, but you were thankful that it hid your identity. It was so long ago, but you still remember that night clearly. The ridiculous movie, the afterparty where everyone was so tipsy and the smell of alcohol burned against your nose, and finally when you went to the bathroom and found Ben and Countess together, the immeasurable rage followed by heartbreak that you felt when you saw them. Not to mention the fight that followed when Ben trampled all over your heart and stated that you meant nothing to him.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo? I mean y’all can come in if you want-“ You open the door wider, understanding that they won't leave, before you begin to move towards the kitchen. “I apologize in advance. I’m not quite myself, I was up late working.” You pause halfway into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some coffee, you guys want some?” You eye the man in the black coat. "Or tea?"

“Coffee is fine."

You find the coffee filters and shuffle through the cupboards to find a bag of coffee, still trying to wake up. Staying up late wasn't unusual for you. You tended to find the urge to create in the wee hours of the morning, not to mention everything that happened in the past kept you up.

You open the bag of coffee to smell the grounds, thinking that it will wake you up, but as soon as you do the smell of Agent Butcher and Agent Campbell washes over you.

You could smell the compound V in their veins pumping through their bodies with every beat of their hearts.

So, they're supes. You think to yourself, pouring the grounds into the coffeemaker. Which means they probably aren't from the CIA.

Despite the realization, you weren't worried. Your particular ability was a well-kept secret, a secret that only Ben knew despite you being on Payback. Stan Edgar and the others had believed that "Indigo," the hero name assigned to you, had enhanced strength and senses, but it was more than that. You had an ability that, if brought to the public, would probably land you in a government facility. Laying low had it's perks, your freedom was one of them.

You watch them begin to walk around your living room examining the artifacts of your new life, the one you crafted when everything fell apart. There wasn't anything in the living room to arouse suspicion that you were the original Indigo. The only remnants of your past life that remained were in a wooden trunk at the back of your walk in closet, hidden behind a collection of paint splattered overalls almost identical to the pair you were wearing right now.

"You've got a nice place." The younger guy says looking around.

"Thanks. It's rent controlled. I got lucky-" You fiddle with the coffeemaker to buy yourself some time.

Why were they here to ask me about Ben? It had been 40 years, hardly seems relevant now. And why were they pretending to be CIA?

"You're an artist?" Agent Butcher asks, staring at the canvas sitting on an easel by your desk. It was a collection of multicolored dark greens that swirled together, flecked with pieces of gold that shone in the brilliant sunlight from the wall of windows where your studio was.

"Yeah. And I tend to paint my best at night. Hence the coffee" You turn, placing your hands on the island to face the two men.

“You’re really good.” Agent Campbell says examining some of the canvases on the wall.

“Thanks.”

“So your mum eh?” Agent Butcher turns to look at you. You note the smirk on his face and incredulous raising of his brow.

He doesn't believe me. Hard not to. I don't age.

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow to challenge him

“You look a lot like her.”

“Thanks. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” You look from Butcher to the younger guy who has moved on to look at your vinyl collection. "And I'm pretty sure that most kids look like their parents. But I'm not a geneticist."

"NO WAY! You have a signed copy of Billy Joel's Glass House!" Agent Campbell shouts holding up the vinyl cover in awe.

"Yeah." You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

"How did you-“

"Hughie." Agent Butcher sighs.

The younger guy now identified as Hughie puts the record back with a frown, before turning back to the collection.

“But you have the same name.” Agent Butcher's eyes flit to yours.

“She named me after herself. I’m sure the CIA can locate my birth certificate."

“Right.” Agent Butcher smiles, but it’s tight lipped.

You stand there for another minute looking from Agent Butcher to Hughie, trying to think of why they're here. "So what do you want to know?”

“Well is your mum around-“

You allow your shoulders to droop and take in a shaky breath. "She died about a year ago. Cancer."

They weren't the first to come here and accuse you of being Indigo. Legend and you had come up with the farce to protect you, help you start over, but you hadn't wanted to part with your name. So other precautions were put in place: a funeral plot was purchased and a death certificate was issued as was a fake passport, I.D, and birth certificate that made you thirty two rather than over one hundred.

“Really? I thought Indigo-“ It’s enough to make Hughie turn around and look at you.

“Don’t read everything Vought says." You interrupt. "That experimental shit they put in her veins may have made her powerful, but it couldn’t protect her from that.” You sigh again to sell the lie, before turning to the coffee maker, to pour them and yourself a cup. "There should be some milk in there, sugar's in the bowl." You gesture to the refrigerator and the small blown glass sugar bowl on the counter next to the coffee maker.

Hughie moves into the kitchen to pour himself a cup, but Agent Butcher continues to eye you suspiciously.

“It wasn’t in the news.” He grunts.

“They covered it up pretty well. I mean do you blame them? One of the first supes gets killed by something like cancer. Can’t be good for Vought given they pride themselves on showcasing unstoppable heroes. I mean can you imagine if Homelander or Queen Maeve died of something like cancer? Doesn’t look good.” You shrug your shoulders and take a sip from the coffee in your hands. “What did you want to talk to her about?”

“Soldier Boy.” Butcher moves to the coffeemaker and it takes a strong amount of willpower to stop the urge to turn towards him, but you know that you need to act indifferent.

“Did she talk to you at all about him?” Hughie moves to one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the island with his coffee in front of him.

“Yeah.” You look down at the mug with a sigh, rolling the warm glass between your hands. “He really did a number on her. Plus towards the end she started seeing him everywhere."

The emotion that you summon is not fake. You allow a small amount to trickle over the dam you built to protect yourself from falling back into the pit you fell into when Ben broke your heart and then died. When you broke every piece of glass in your apartment and threw your couch through the wall.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Hughie looks sincere when he says it.

Why is someone like him hanging out with this guy? You think to yourself eyeing Agent Butcher again.

“It’s been hard. But I took care of her, sometimes it was only me. It’s kind of hard to restrain an 103 year old with super strength.” You smile to yourself at the joke.

“So you’re a supe?” Hughie takes a sip from his coffee mug.

“No I was just able to talk her down. Guess that first batch of Compound V doesn’t work the same way. Never transferred. Plus my dad wasn’t a supe so maybe it just diluted.” You shrug, the lies weaving easily through the air.

“But she did talk to you about him?” Agent Butcher presses. He's leaning against the counter to your left.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I mean what do you want to hear? There’s a lot.” The mug sends a pleasant warmth through your hands as you hold it, but does little to stop the chill of the past from creeping up your spine.

“Start at the beginning.”

“Well.” You take another sip of coffee. “I don’t know details-details but- I just know that she grew up with him, they were from the same neighborhood in Philadelphia. All that shit they made up about Soldier Boy being from a poor family was just propaganda. His dad owned half the steel mills in the state of Pennsylvania. Used to invest in property with my grandfather. Soldier Boy and my mom were friends. When he got the Compound V shot, she did too. They were looking for female and male volunteers. I think he asked her to? Or-“ You shrug your shoulders to push away the memory of the day Ben told you about the experiments. When he told you he was finally going to make something of himself and convinced you to go with him.

“They were dating?” Agent Butcher asks.

The question makes you pause. It was difficult to think about that, difficult to relive the memories of Ben continuing to push you away and his final refusal to admit he loved you. Ben never did say that to you. You had been through so much together, so many years as friends and then after the night you finally were together he threw you away like you meant nothing.

“No, but he really hurt her-“ You avoid their gaze.

“What did he do?” Hughie asks leaning forward on the counter.

“They had been through a lot together and I think when their friendship began to transfer to relationship he pushed her away. My mother said something about him refusing to admit he loved her. I think the last straw when she caught him with Countess.”

“Do you know anything about how he died?”

The memory of the phone call strikes you in the chest, when Stan Edgar himself called to tell you Ben was dead. When the darkness swallowed you whole and all you felt was guilt and heart break over the fight you had and how you left him alone when he needed you most.

“It hurt my mother a lot. Broke her. She never really got over him, no one was good enough, not even my dad. She drove him away too and then it was just us.”

“Was she there when Soldier Boy died?” Hughie spins the coffee mug in his hands.

“No. She left Payback before that mission. It was right after she caught Countess and him together.” You force a shrug. “I think she regretted not being there. She was almost as indestructible as him, but I think she felt worse because they had a big fight right before.”

“So she didn’t know about Nicaragua or the thing that killed him?” Agent Butcher raises an eyebrow.

You cock your head to the side feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Soldier Boy got vaporized in a nuclear explosion.”

“Well I think we’ve wasted enough of your time.”

They get up to leave.

“Wait-“

Agent Butcher turns to look at you.

“Why are you asking me about him? It's been what? Forty years since he died-"

"That's classified love. Thank you for your time."

You watch them leave, but listen to them as they walk down the hallway.

“So do you believe her?” Hughie’s voice echoes in your ears.

“Not a bit. Maybe we trail her for a day. See if she really is an artist." Agent Butcher grunts. "At least until we go to Russia."

Russia? Why would they go to Russia?

You stand there for a second, holding the coffee mug in your hands. As you do the memories of the past 90 years wash across your mind, breaking through the damn that you built to protect yourself.

You were friends for years. You loved him since the moment you met. There were good times before the serum and then the bad, when he got famous and you were there to keep him in check. Sure you may have annoyed him, but he liked that about you, that you were able to bring him back from the edge. The day you finally had sex you remembered it, it was special, or you thought it was. You were excited that finally he loved you as much as you loved him. But then it all fell apart. That fight hadn’t been pretty. When you left him you felt yourself begin to slip, you didn’t eat or drink for days and when you finally got the phone call you thought it was him trying to apologize, but it was Stan.

You think again about Russia and finally your mind drifts to Countess.

She was the one that said that the Russians killed Ben, she saw it happen, saw his body get taken away-

Your jaw clenches together in anger and frustration as you remember the last time you saw her, when she taunted you and you almost ripped off her head. You never heard it directly from her that Ben was dead, only heard it from Stan. Of course the ridiculous funeral for Ben that you were expected to go to would mean that you saw her, but you hadn't gone, didn't want to keep up the charade. Instead you went to Philadelphia and walked the streets aimlessly with a bottle of whiskey in your hand, remembering what it was like when you were kids. Sometimes you think it all would have been different if you never got the injection, if you said no when he showed up in your bedroom and asked you to come with him. He was your oldest friend. The only real person you'd ever loved or cared about. The memory of the fight rings in your ears but you push it down.

You think again about Countess. She was the reason why Ben and you had the fight. The reason you weren't there in Nicaragua. Regret spikes in your chest. You should have been there that day, should have tried to save him. You always had each others backs and the one time you weren't there he died.

Maybe it was time to pay her a visit.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

#jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #the boys fanfic #soldier boy #the boys amazon #jensen #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fanfiction #jensen ackles #the boys series #the boys season 3

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queenshelby · 1 month ago

Text

The Peaky Role (Part 39)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad, Pregnancy, Drug Use

The following morning, you woke to the soft glow of the sun streaming through the window, the sound of distant waves a soothing lullaby. The events of the previous night played in your mind like a surreal dream, leaving you with a sense of lingering disbelief.

"You're up early," Cillian's voice rumbled from the kitchen, startling you from your thoughts as you walked in much before anyone else.

"Yeah, couldn't sleep," you replied, your heart fluttering at the sound of his voice. "My head is fucking throbbing," you mentioned, a hint of guilt in your voice.

"Well, I am not surprised," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes as he set down a mug of coffee on the counter for you.

"No sugar, a dash of milk, just the way I like it," Cillian said as your fingers wrapped around the warm mug.

"I am really sorry about last night," you mumbled, averting your gaze. "I shouldn't have smoked it. It was so fucking stupid," you admitted but Cillian simply chuckled, his voice a soothing balm.

"It's fine, really," he said as he leaned against the counter, his eyes holding yours. "But, why did you do it? It's just so unlike you," he pressed, a hint of concern in his voice.

You sighed, leaning against the counter too. "I don't know, I just wanted to let loose for once as everything right now is...," you trailed off, losing your train of thought.

"A bit overwhelming?" Cillian offered, his eyes softening.

"Yes," you admitted. "I am trying hard to hold it together for everyone, but sometimes I feel like I'm drowning," you said as your voice cracked, the weight of your emotions spilling over.

"Mum is being difficult ever since dad started dating again and who does she tell? Me of course," you began before talking about Nina, your best friend. "Then, of course, Nina is going through a lot, and I am trying to be there for her, but it's not easy with...," you trailed off once more, but Cillian knew what you were about to say.

"With me being around?" he finished quietly, and you bit your lip, hesitating to say it out loud.

"Yeah," you whispered, glancing down at your hands.

"I know," Cillian murmured, his voice low and warm. "And I'm sorry for that."

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and in that moment, the world seemed to pause, the air between you crackling with unspoken words.

You could feel the tension humming between you, the weight of your shared secret hanging heavy. "It's fine," you said, your voice laced with both conviction and a trace of unease. "I mean, we're all adults here, right? Even if I didn't behave like one last night," you admitted, the weight of your words settling between you like a shared secret.

"I just want to move on, you know? Put this behind us and pretend like it never happened," you then told Cillian before admitting your feelings to him once more. "But, fuck, I am actually in love with you," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Cillian's eyes widened, a mixture of emotions flashing across his face. "Y/N..." he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

"I know this is wrong and we shouldn't even be having this conversation, but I can't help how I feel," you confessed, your voice wavering as you stared at him, hoping he would understand. "And I just don't want to feel like this anymore, Cillian. I want this to stop," you said as Cillian reached out, his hand hovering above yours, as if unsure whether to touch you as, suddenly, Max stumbled into the kitchen, his hair dishevelled, a wide grin on his face.

"Morning, you two!" he exclaimed, his voice cutting through the moment like a knife.

"Morning," you replied, forcing a smile, the air thick with unspoken words. Cillian cleared his throat, a subtle shift in his demeanour.

"Right, uhm, I was going to go for a run," Cillian continued, the tension in the room palpable. "I'll see you in a bit," he added, his voice strained as he glanced at you, a silent plea in his eyes.

You watched him go, the quiet moments heavy with unspoken words and, as you turned to leave, Max's voice echoed behind you.

"You two seem pretty close," he said, his tone light but with a hint of something else.

"Me and Cillian?" you replied, turning to face him, a mix of emotions flashing across your face. "I mean, we worked together, of course, but that's about it," you insisted, your voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness.

"Are you sure?" Max probed, his gaze lingering on you, a mix of curiosity and something else in his eyes. "Because you two definitely have a thing going on, or at least, that's what I'm picking up on but, don't worry, I won't say anything," he said, his expression shifting from playful to serious.

"You are being ridiculous," you insisted, but he just shrugged, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Am I?" Max asked, leaning closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I mean, maybe I am imagining things because I was pretty high last night, but you both seemed really into each other. Like, there's definitely something there, right?" he continued, but you left it that.

"There is nothing there Max. Now, would you excuse me? I have to take a shower," you replied, your voice steady, but your heart was pounding. "I need to get ready for the day."

Max chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Okay, see you later," he said, his tone playful as he turned to leave. "And remember, it's your boyfriend's birthday today," he teased you and you only just realised that you hadn't even congratulated Cillian yet. You were too busy talking about you and him, even though you shouldn't have been.

When Cillian got back from his run and everyone else was finally up, Nina and Paddy had already set up a lavish breakfast spread on the patio table, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the salty breeze.

"Happy birthday, mate," Dermont called out, raising his mug in a toast and Cillian smiled, his eyes warm with gratitude.

"Thanks, but it's just another day, alright?" he said, his voice a mixture of appreciation and deflection.

"No it's not. It's your fucking birthday," Paddy said as he gave his brother a hug before withdrawing quickly, disliking the fact that he was too sweaty.

"Happy birthday dad," Nina said as she was next in line and handed her father a carefully wrapped package. "I hope you like it," she added, her eyes shining with anticipation.

"Thanks, love," Cillian said, his voice warm with affection. "I'm sure I will," he replied, his expression softening at the sight of his daughter's eager smile.

And then, it was your turn and, of course, you began with an apology.

"I should have said happy birthday before but, well, uhm... happy birthday," you began, your voice catching in your throat as you handed him a small, neatly wrapped package.

Cillian's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flickering across his face. "You didn't have to get me anything," he said, his voice laced with genuine warmth. "But thank you," he added, reaching out to take the gift from your trembling hands.

After sitting down, Cillian unwrapped each of the presents he had received with care, one by one, revealing a selection of thoughtful gifts.

He held up the book you had given him, a glint of appreciation in his eyes. "This is perfect," he murmured, his voice laced with genuine emotion. "I've been wanting to read the original version of this novel for ages," he added, his gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he quickly looked away.

"I remembered," you whispered, your voice soft with affection, catching everyone's attention and, in particular Max's, who couldn't help but laugh.

"Awww, that's so cute," Max teased, his voice laced with humour as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking between you and Cillian. "What a thoughtful present," he continued, his tone playful as even Paddy picked up on the atmosphere between you and Cillian, making him wonder whether there was more to the story.

Then, after a late breakfast, you all went to the township of Dingle to grab some lunch and explore the quaint streets lined with shops before, in the late afternoon, hitting Cillian's favourite pub.

You stepped inside, the warmth wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. The dim lighting flickered over worn wooden tables, laughter bubbling alongside the clinking of glasses as you settled into a booth with Nina, Cillian, and the others, anticipation humming in the air.

It was nice having everyone together, laughter weaving through shared stories and memories like threads binding the fabric of their friendship tighter.

"Let's raise a toast!" Paddy eventually declared, hoisting his pint high, a wide grin splitting his face. "To my brother, and many more years ahead," he declared, laughter bubbling from the group like a shared secret.

Cillian raised his glass, a soft chuckle escaping him as he replied, "Thanks mate."

The clinking of glasses resonated, harmonizing with the cheerful banter around the table and, even though Maz was aware of the chemistry between you and Cillian, after a few pints, he had become increasingly bold in his flirtations now that he had a drink.

"How about a game of pool?" Max suggested, leaning closer to you, a mischievous glint in his eye which he knew would annoy his uncle.

"No, I am no good at that," you admitted honestly, but Max was unfazed, a confident grin spreading across his face.

"That just means I will get to teach you," he proclaimed, nudging you playfully as Cillian glanced over, his expression shifting as he watched the two of you banter, protective instincts flaring beneath the surface.

"How about me and you against Cillian and my dad," Max then suggested with a grin, leaning back in his chair as if that decision had already been made.

Cillian shot him a look, something between amusement and warning glimmering in his eyes. "Alright, but no cheating," he said, raising an eyebrow, accepting the challenge, waiting for you to agree as well.

"Okay. I guess one game can't hurt," you said, feeling the thrill of competition spark within you and, immediately, Max grinned, a spark igniting within him at the challenge.

"Well then oldies, get ready to lose," Max declared, strutting toward the pool table, cue stick in hand like a sword ready for battle.

You followed, excitement bubbling beneath the surface, anticipation hanging thick in the air but, when, after about ten minutes or so, you missed a few good opportunities, you felt a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck.

"Come on, Y/N! You can do better than that!" Max laughed after you had given away three good chances, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me show you," he said, stepping closer, his playful confidence evident in the way he leaned over the table behind you, guiding your movements.

"Just like that," he encouraged, his breath hot against your ear as you focused on the cue ball, your pulse throbbing with each moment he spent close to you, a mix of exhilaration and tension swirling in the air.

Cillian watched from across the pool table, his brow furrowing as Max leaned too close, a playful smirk on his lips.

"You got this, Y/N," Max urged, the words laced with encouragement as he nudged you forward.

With every shot, the air thickened, and Cillian's expression deepened in protectiveness until he had enough.

"Max, you need to give her some space," Cillian interjected, his voice firm as he stepped closer, drawing a line in the sand.

Max straightened, surprise washing over his face, but the grin never left his lips.

"Relax, Uncle," he retorted, playful defiance lacing his words, "I'm just helping her."

You felt the tension crackle, a fragile silence settling between them.

Cillian shot Max a look that could have melted ice, the protective instinct rising in him like a tidal wave, which is when you stepped in.

"No more help. I've got this," you declared, a firm edge in your voice as you squared your shoulders, ready to take your shot.

Cillian's brow furrowed, but you caught a glimmer of pride in his eyes, the weight of the moment hanging delicately in the air.

As you focused, the cue ball danced across the table, striking the others with a satisfying thud.

"Yes! Finally!" you cheered, the tension breaking as cheers of encouragement erupted all around and Cillian's lips twisted into a proud smile, glimmering with approval.

"You see? That's how it's done," you laughed, feeling the energy shift in your favour, a rush of confidence surging through you and, even though Paddy and Cillian won in the end, you were pretty pleased with your efforts.

As the game wrapped up, laughter echoed through the pub, the camaraderie washing over you like sunlight breaking through clouds and, at around 10 o'clock, you all knew it was time for you to head back home.

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dazaih · 2 months ago

Text

wingman - luke skywalker x reader

you can find the previous chapters here

chapter seven -> the show

your university roommate han solo finds a rival (and love interest) in student council president leia skywalker, but both of them are too stubborn to admit that they have feelings for each other. luckily, you and her twin brother, luke, devise a plan to get the two of them to spend more time together. challenges arise, however, when you start to develop a crush on him.

chapter warnings: making out in public, drinking, sexual humor, slightly stereotypical college tropes, luke is a freak

a/n: sorry this one took so long! not super happy with it but i hope you guys enjoy anyway :p

You had returned to class a few days ago, readjusting a bit difficult after your brief absence. The ache in your ribs and inability to use your hand served as painful reminders of what had transpired that night. Han’s first day back was today, and although you thought it was far too soon, he at least would be seeing Leia in class later. Since she knew what happened, you hoped that she might be a source of comfort for him. As you left your lecture, you were pulled from your thoughts by your phone buzzing in your pocket.

Luke: heyyy! i just passed han! is he back?

You hadn’t talked to Luke since you’d essentially fondled him in your bedroom several days ago, so the text surprised you. You stared at it for a second before deciding to reply.

You: yeah it’s his first day back. hope he and leia can get along today lol

Luke: ohhhh same but i’m sure she’ll be happy to have him in class again! i think she’s missed him >:)

Luke: sooooo does that mean ur back too?

You: yes i got back a few days ago actually

There was a beat of silence, and you could see him switching between typing and not typing a few times, the three dots disappearing and reappearing in a brief cycle of apparent deliberation.

Luke: u were supposed to lmk </3 heart is broken. don’t think i’ll recover tbh

Luke either just consistently texted like a teenage girl, or he was flirting with you. Deciding to test the waters, you sent him a message back.

You: my bad my bad i’ll make it up to u babe

His response was immediate.

Luke: YOOOO

Luke: what if we get lunch like. right now. i’m on campus

You laughed, but you had to admit that having someone be so excited to see you was a good feeling. Even if your relationship was largely fabricated, Luke did seem to genuinely enjoy your company.

You: ok i’m leaving class rn. food court or dining hall?

Luke: food court ok with u? i want sushi

With that, you told him you’d meet him there, and then made your way to the agreed upon destination. You were pretty nervous about being seen with him in the food court, as it was usually pretty crowded. Still, that wasn’t a good enough reason to avoid him, so you anxiously let your feet carry you there.

Despite the density of the room, Luke was easy to spot. He stood out in any crowd, something about his demeanor incredibly radiant and eye-catching, his mere presence enough to make people turn their heads. To your surprise, he spotted you pretty quickly too, and excitedly waved you over. When he did, a few people around him glanced in your direction, their curiosity getting the better of them as they wondered whom Luke Skywalker could be so excited to see. Your face flushed.

“Hey!” he greeted you enthusiastically, standing as close to you as he possibly could without actually touching you.

“Hi,” you replied somewhat shyly, hoping the rosiness of your cheeks went unnoticed by him.

“How’s your day going?” he asked, not bothering to be subtle as he looked you over, seemingly studying every detail of your appearance.

“It’s okay. Been really tired recently, but I guess that’s to be expected,” you replied, looking down at your shoes.

You almost jumped out of your skin when he gently wedged a finger underneath your chin, nudging your face upwards so you were forced to meet his eyes. You could feel countless stares on you, and you were wondering how far Luke was willing to commit to this if he was likely driving away other potential suitors by being intimate with you in public.

“You have dark circles under your eyes,” he observed, cocking his head at you. You were puzzled.

“Uh, sorry,” you said, not really sure how you were supposed to respond, “I guess I usually wear concealer.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that you should wear concealer,” he replied, giggling, “Just that you should get some rest tonight.”

“Right,” you mumbled awkwardly, the eyes of your peers burning holes into your skull, your skin searing from the red hot embarrassment of it all. You had never received so much attention in your life, and all you were doing was standing in front of the sushi counter at your school’s food court.

He ushered you towards the counter, making you order first so he could pay for it without having to put up with your protests. He also insisted on carrying it to the table for you, saying that you shouldn’t have to since your wrist was broken. You all found a seat against the wall, tucked out of the way but not fully shielded from the prying eyes of your classmates. When you were about to take a seat, Luke stopped you, putting a hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“You face the wall,” he told you knowingly, “It’ll keep your back turned towards them. I can pretend not to notice, so I’ll face this way.”

You were speechless for a moment, but you supposed you shouldn’t have been surprised that he picked up on your apprehension. Luke was observant. Sitting down, you sighed, putting your head in your hands for a moment before looking back up at him.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, “I fly under the radar most of the time. It’s just new to me.”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. It’s my fault for not asking if you would be okay with people ogling you while you’re trying to eat,” he replied, seemingly embarrassed.

“It’s not your fault,” you assured him, offering him a smile, “I mean, I guess I’m friends with Han, and he attracts all sorts of attention. I’ll adapt.”

Luke laughed, accepting your affirmations as some relief set into his shoulders. He relaxed a little, opening the lid on his sushi container and cracking his chopsticks apart. He sighed happily when he took the first bite, a blush creeping up on your cheeks when you recalled how him eating chocolate in your room escalated to your hands grasping his chest. That look of mischief you had become so familiar with shone in his eyes, and you immediately knew that his mind had drifted there too.

“Behave,” you warned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You know that doesn’t deter me, right? I could listen to you say that over and over again. It’s hot.”

“Luke, we’re at school!” you exclaimed, his confession turning your already red face a deeper shade of crimson. You weren’t sure how much of what he was saying was true, but you couldn’t deny that you were flustered by his words.

He laughed then, bright and cheery as always, looking at you like you were the most fun he’d ever experienced. His gaze sank deeper into your skin and reached your bones, making them ache with the yearning you were starting to feel towards him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still giggling a bit, “You make it too easy.”

“Why can’t you just eat normally? Why do you have to make everyone around you wonder if you’re trying to be erotic?” you asked, rubbing your temple with your good hand before taking a bite of your own roll.

“I love food,” he replied, shrugging, “Always ate the same shit growing up, so I like having so many options now. And it’s also possible that I’m exaggerating a little bit to mess with you.”

“I figured,” you huffed, though your brain had grabbed onto something else he said, “You didn’t grow up rich?”

He paused, his chopsticks unmoving and even his chewing coming to a halt, his eyes scanning the room for a moment before falling back on you.

“No,” he muttered, voice quiet, “Damn. Didn’t even realize that I gave myself away. You’re good. Don’t tell anyone that, please.”

You had a million questions for him, your curiosity about his life increasing by the minute, but he clearly hadn’t meant to reveal that to you.

“I don’t really care,” you reassured him, pushing your questions to the back of your mind for the sake of his comfort, “You won’t believe this, but I didn’t grow up rich either.”

He laughed, relaxing again as he looked at you fondly, a bit more somber now but definitely calmer than he had been just a moment ago. He gave you a smile that told you he appreciated your willingness to move on, and you decided then that if he smiled at you like that, you were content with being patient.

“So,” he said, mischief returning to his expression, “I’ve been scheming, as you might say.”

“Oh boy,” you replied, grinning, “About our favorite couple, I’m assuming.”

“Of course,” he confirmed, leaning so that his face was closer to yours, “So, two weeks from now, there’s a concert. Local bar. Two bands are playing. That’s the type of thing you and your friends enjoy, yeah?”

“Right,” you told him, nodding, “But we couldn’t mosh or anything since my wrist is broken and Han is all sorts of fucked up, so we might not be very fun company.”

“No, that’s alright. That’s not what’s important,” he continued, “There’s a band making their debut there on that night. You can stand by the bar if you want, no pressure to go out into the crowd at all. I think you guys will enjoy it regardless.”

“I feel like you’re omitting some information,” you pointed out, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, yeah, but it’s nothing bad. And Leia will be there.”

You briefly recalled the conversation you’d had with Luke when you’d first met his friends, the mention that Leia was really into punk and alternative music surprising enough for you to note.

“I’ll do my best to get us there,” you told him.

He beamed at you, resting his chin on his hand as he mused over his plan, the details of which you weren’t privy to.

“I think it’ll put things into motion,” he said ominously, seemingly to himself.

He changed the topic after that, asking you about which movies you’d watched recently and if there was anything you thought he might like. In return, you asked him about how his recovery was going, and he told you that he would be cleared to participate in practice again soon, as his concussion had waned. You talked for the next hour, pausing every now and then to actually eat like you had intended to.

Overall, it had been a pretty good time. You were never able to shake the stares of your peers fully, but once they realized that nothing much would come of gawking at the two of you, they largely minded their own business. You bid him farewell and thanked him for the food, promising to see him again soon.

When you got back to your apartment, Chewie had started making dinner. Meatloaf, it looked like. You helped out where you could, though your injury made it more challenging than you would’ve liked. You were anticipating Han’s arrival any second now, but you were left in waiting. As the minutes ticked by and eventually reached an hour, you grew anxious. Finally, you decided to call.

“What?” he answered after the third ring, voice a whisper.

“Where are you?” you replied, ignoring his abrasive tone. That was just Han.

“Library with Leia. I got really pissed off in class today because I didn’t know what was goin’ on, so now we’re here.”

“Oh,” you said, a bit dumbfounded by this information, “Well, Chewie made meatloaf. You should ask her if she wants to stop by for dinner.”

You heard him mumbling, likely inviting Leia over, and then you could vaguely hear her voice too.

“She has to go to practice after this,” he told you, sounding bored.

“Practice? For what?”

“Geez, I don’t know, kid. I’m not gonna sit here and interrogate her. I’ll be home later, alright? We can watch somethin’ on TV.”

“Okay,” you murmured, not really sure what else to say to that.

He muttered a quick goodbye to you and hung up. Without thinking twice about it, you immediately texted Luke.

You: they’re at the library together right now…

You explained the situation to Chewie as fixed some asparagus to go with your meal, telling him about the show in two weeks and asking if he’d be interested. He nodded, an amused expression on his face as he continued to cook. A few minutes later, you got a text back from Luke.

Luke: no wayyyyy they’re evolving

Luke: ask him about the show when he gets back!

You weren’t sure what was up with Luke’s insistence, especially considering how the last show went for you all, but you shrugged it off.

You supposed you’d find out soon enough.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You hadn’t seen Luke any since lunch that day, but you’d texted him a few times over the past two weeks. You all didn’t say anything of much importance to each other, nor did you talk very frequently, but it was nice to know that he hadn’t completely forgotten about you as his practice schedule picked up again and he resumed his normal life.

Han hadn’t needed much convincing to go to the show, as he hadn’t been out on the town since the incident. You had told him Leia would be there, so when he came out of his room dressed in his nice brown coat instead of the Carhartt again, you mentally cheered. Maybe he cared about looking nice for her after all.

“You look good,” you told him. The bruises on his face had healed some in the past several days, and he was starting to look a little more like himself again. It was refreshing.

“I know,” he replied smugly, seemingly excited to feel a bit more normal—well, as excited as Han could seem to be.

Chewie stood by the doorway, scrolling on his phone. He was wearing a beanie this time with his long hair down, glasses perched on his nose and a blue flannel tucked into his black jeans.

“And so do you!” you cheered, walking over to Chewie and smoothing out his eyebrows with your thumb. Unlike Han, he didn’t make much of a fuss when you tried to detail his appearance, allowing you to exercise your cosmetic expertise to your heart’s content. He rolled his eyes and smiled at you, gesturing to your outfit and giving you a thumbs up.

“Thanks,” you said, understanding his meaning immediately. He thought you looked nice too.

“Yeah, not horrible,” Han added, glancing over your outfit. It was one of your favorites, teetering the line between your casual attire and something a bit nicer. You wore Han’s black coat, as it was slightly baggier than your own, concealing your cast pretty well. You didn’t want people walking on eggshells around you all night because you were hurt.

With that, the three of you departed, your walk downtown leisurely as Han and Chewie split a cigarette. You were in a good mood, glad that the three of you were going out again. It’s also possible that you were a little bit excited to see Luke too.

When you all walked into the bar, you felt at ease. These types of venues were what you were used to, classic college bars with live music. Before bothering to find Luke and Leia, sure that they were likely in the company of others and wouldn’t be bothered by your absence, you went on a quest for drinks. You would probably have to hang out near the back anyway due to your injuries, so being leaned up against the bar didn’t seem like that bad of a call. You ordered something strong and sipped your drink peacefully, taking in the atmosphere and anticipating the band’s performance.

“We oughta take a shot,” Han mumbled to you, “Whiskey.”

You laughed and agreed, knowing that being a little tipsier would help you relax. After the shot and downing your first drink, you moved onto a second, you and Han talking and in your own little world. It was then that you looked across the room and saw a tighter crowd of people, and you instantly knew that Luke had to be the center. Han noticed too, and the two of you watched as you caught glimpses of him every now and then. Unusually, he wore all dark colors today, his sweater a dark gray and his pants black, beat up converse on his feet. He was drunk of course, hand clutched around a drink you couldn’t quite identify. You watched as a girl placed her hand on his chin, appearing to look at the fresh scar under his lip. He was relatively nonreactive, politely smiling at her and probably answering questions about his injuries. To your surprise, though, he never put his hands on her, nor did he lean into her touch.

“Gonna handle that?” Han asked you, taking another sip of his drink and watching the scene before him unfold.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said simply, though you did take some joy in the fact that Luke didn’t seem to be reciprocating her advances.

“You’re staring daggers into that girl’s head.”

“I am not,” you insisted, downing the rest of your drink and ordering another.

“Sure, kid,” he said dismissively, “Didn’t take you for the jealous type.”

Before you could defend yourself, Luke met your eyes. His smile widened, he appeared to apologize to the girl he was talking to, and he immediately departed from the group that had crowded around him. They watched him go curiously, slowly trailing as to not give themselves away as being dependent on his presence, but you tried to pay them little attention.

“Hey!” he greeted you excitedly, putting his drink down next to you and pulling you into a hug. You squawked in surprise, but eventually wrapped your arms around him as well, returning his affection.

He didn’t let go of you for what felt like an awkwardly long time, and you made eye contact with Han in a silent plea for advice. He rolled his eyes at you and shook his head, the smallest of grins playing at his lips.

“Missed you,” Luke drunkenly confessed as he pulled away, though his hands had dropped to your waist, “I’ve been waiting for you to get here all night.”

You were stunned into silence for a moment before finally swallowing hard, mustering the courage to speak.

“It’s good to see you,” you told him awkwardly, his hands on you making your heart rate accelerate more than you liked to admit, “You look really good in black.”

He beamed at you, his cheeks flushing a little under the vibrant lighting of the venue, and brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You think so?” he asked teasingly, leaning into you as he spoke.

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you told him lightheartedly, “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough. Wanna take a shot with me? Or a shooter? I’ll pay, of course.”

“You really have to stop buying me things.”

“Nah. I like buying you things,” he countered, grinning as he ordered you a drink.

He had ordered you green tea shooters, which you’d never had before but sounded so much like something he would enjoy that you were eager to partake. Before you knew what was happening, he gripped your chin and tilted your head back a bit, the glass of the shooter pressing against your lips.

“Open,” he told you, his confidence that you’d do whatever he asked almost making your knees buckle. You did, the alcohol slipping past your lips and going straight to your head—or maybe the way Luke was looking at you was the cause for your drunkenness, you weren’t sure. Both were likely explanations.

Luke didn’t give you the chance to pull the same maneuver on him, quickly downing his shooter and smiling innocently at you. In the meantime, Chewie had appeared at the bar, presumably to distract Han from Luke’s hands on you. When he gave you a brief look, you knew your assumption had been correct, and he smiled and rolled his eyes at you when you mouthed a quick thank you to him.

“Wanna stand in the back? Close to the bar but still in the crowd. No one should shove us there,” he proposed, seemingly also at least somewhat aware of Han’s guard being up around him.

You nodded, following him into the back of the crowd and finding a good window between some of the taller individuals to get a pretty solid view of the stage, especially considering where you were standing. You had taken your regular drinks along with you, and you sipped yours as casually as you could, knowing that a lot of eyes were on you despite your position at the back of the crowd.

“Will Han kill me if I make out with you in front of everyone tonight?” he asked you, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide from the alcohol. You nearly choked on your drink, and you had to take a deep breath to stabilize yourself before you could manage a reply.

“That’s—Are you sure you want to do that?”

“What?” he said, laughing at your question, “Why wouldn’t I? Are you sick or something?”

Thoughts swirled around your mind, bouncing off every corner of your skull and almost making your head hurt in the process. Everyone in this venue wants to make out with you. You could have any one of them. If it’s me, you’ll sabotage your chances of finding someone you really like to take home tonight. You didn’t say any of it, because you didn’t want to make him feel even less like a person than he probably already did.

“Just wanted to make sure,” you murmured quietly, looking down. He gently hooked his finger under your chin and pushed upwards, forcing you to meet his eyes. No matter how many times he did this, you always blushed.

“Hey, if you’re more private about that sort of stuff, it’s totally fine. I’m not here to push you into situations that make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to kiss at all.”

Reassessing your comfort was the bare minimum, but it made you feel warm nonetheless. You weren’t sure what came over you, but you leaned forward and let your head drop to rest on his shoulder, sighing. You heard him chuckle lightly at that, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, your face still buried into the crook of his neck.

“Or you can just do that, I guess,” he remarked, sounding amused.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to so many people looking at me. But you’re so nice, and I wanna be close to you still. Just hiding for a second. You smell really good, by the way.”

He laughed again, hugging you a little tighter, cautious to not spill his drink or injure your wrist.

“You’re drunk,” he told you, and you felt him sigh when you smiled into the side of his neck.

“So are you.”

“Well, yeah,” he replied, giggling again, "But I’ve just never seen you be like, expressive when you’re drinking. I like it. Tell me more about what you like about me.”

It was your turn to laugh, Luke’s lack of subtly entertaining to you.

“Do you have any shame?” you teased.

“About some stuff, sure. But not about this.”

“Well, you know I like your abs.”

“And my chest, apparently.”

“Hey. You enjoyed that.”

“Never said I didn’t. Wanna do it again right now?”

“Luke!” you exclaimed in a fit of drunken giggles, pulling away to lightly smack his arm. He smiled at you and took another sip of his drink.

“So, what else do you like about me?” he pried, and you rolled your eyes at him before stepping closer once more.

“You’ll find out. Be patient,” you told him, your own touch of mischief seeping into your voice. He smiled at you, right hand dropping to your waist and pulling you closer, left hand tossing his drink back and finishing the rest of it in a single go. You mimicked his actions, finishing your own beverage and meeting his eyes. Just then, the first band emerged, and you turned towards the stage while Luke placed his hand on your lower back.

“We can get another drink in the middle of the set, if you want,” he said, pulling you flush against his side as the band started to play, “But I’m kind of drunk right now, so I need a second.”

You laughed and nodded at him, and pretty soon your attention shifted towards the talented musicians on stage. Since you couldn’t be in the front, you had to settle on gently swaying and nodding your head rather than something more exciting. This band had more of an indie rock vibe, so there wasn’t a ton of moshing to be done anyway. You hoped Han wasn’t feeling left out, but you were confident that Chewie would stay by his side while you were gone.

You were so inebriated that you barely noticed Luke’s friends circling around you, with the addition of a few strangers as well. You only realized how many eyes were on you when Biggs clasped a hand around Luke’s shoulder, making him jump a little. Without thinking, you gently smoothed his sweater down over his bicep, hoping the gesture provided him with a small bit of comfort. He looked over at you and smiled before quickly turning his attention back to Biggs.

“Why’re you all the way back here?” Biggs asked him, seemingly pretty drunk himself.

“He’s injured, Biggs,” a girl you didn’t recognize interjected, stepping closer.

“Can’t believe you even came out tonight, Luke. I mean, I’m glad you’re here and all, but what if you get hurt again?” her friend added, joining her in crowding close to Luke.

“I’ve got a personal investment in the next band,” he said simply, offering the group standing in front of him a perfect smile.

“What, you fuckin’ the drummer or something?” Elias replied, and you had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes.

“I think their drummer is a dude,” one of his other friends pointed out.

“So? You think that’s gonna stop Luke? He’ll fuck anything that moves—“

“Cut it out, Eli,” the girl from before said, placing a hand on Luke’s shoulder, “That’s not true. Don’t be mean to him.”

Luke laughed, but you watched him tense as the stranger’s hand stayed put on his body.

“Oh, fuck off. You guys were literally calling him—“

“Shut up!”

“Calling me what?” Luke interrupted curiously, tilting his head and looking at the girls in front of him with an expression that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Luke,” she said, hand still on his on his shoulder, “You know our friend Marie. We were just talking about when you guys got together, and—“

“Marie’s been telling all of her friends that you’re easy, dude,” his friend interjected, cutting her off.

“It’s not like that,” she protested, bringing her hand up to the side of his neck and moving to cup his cheek, “We don’t think you’re easy, Luke.”

“I don’t really get what you’re trying to say,” he murmured, brows furrowed, “Sorry. I’m a little drunk.”

She cooed at him and you wanted to throw up in your mouth. Or on her. Either would do.

“It’s okay. We can just drop it and get another drink,” she told him, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear and giving him a sickeningly sweet smile. She was a beautiful woman, so it was really a shame that she was acting so creepy.

“They were calling you a slut earlier, man,” Biggs finally said, frowning, “Sorry. Just thought you should know. Marie and a bunch of her friends were over there talking about you.”

“That is not what happened,” she said, placing her other hand on Luke’s face, effectively forcing him to look only at her, “Luke, I promise that I would never—“

When you saw Luke tense further and his eyes widen, you’d had enough. You could put up with other people flirting with him—he wasn’t your boyfriend, after all—but making him uncomfortable was a separate ordeal entirely. You rolled your eyes, reached over, and grabbed her wrists, making use of the weight of your cast to push her arms down and away from his face. You stepped in between them then, giving Luke some space away from her.

“I’m tired of listening to this,” you announced, speaking for the first time since the whole situation had started transpiring, “This entire conversation is stupid.”

You didn’t feel the need to further elaborate, nor did you have any interest in personally shaming the girls, instead taking Luke’s hand in your own and tangling your fingers together, walking off towards the bar. He went happily, giving the group a small wave and a smile as you pulled him away. You didn’t bother looking back at any of them, your focus just on getting Luke out of that situation. When you reached the bar, Han gave you a quizzical look, but you just shook your head and mouthed not now.

“My knight in shining armor,” Luke said, leaning against the bar with you and keeping your hands entwined.

“They sound like they’re in high school. I don’t know how you manage to be nice to people like that.”

“What I do reflects on my parents,” he replied with a shrug, “Seriously though, thank you. That wasn’t a very fun interaction for me.”

“Sorry for just pulling you out of there without even asking,” you murmured sheepishly, cheeks a bit red, “I was just annoyed, and you looked uncomfortable.”

“What? Don’t apologize. You can take me wherever you want, but that’s especially true in cases where someone is grabbing my face and trying to convince me that they weren’t calling me slutty thirty minutes ago.”

Thinking about it made you irritated all over again, and it must’ve shown on your face, because Luke spoke again.

“Just so you know, I really don’t sleep around as much as people say, and since we’ve started this whole thing between us I haven’t been seeing anyone, and I never even slept with Marie—most I’ve done is kiss her at a club, and when I do sleep with people I’m super safe, I get tested regularly, and—“

“Woah, hey,” you interrupted him, gently grabbing his shoulders, “What are you saying?”

“Well, you looked upset when they were talking about that stuff, and I just didn’t want you to think that I was like, I don’t know, a womanizer, or someone who only cares about sex, or some kind of pervert—“

“Luke, that’s not—I was upset because they were objectifying you and making you uncomfortable. You know I’m not judging you, right? You seriously don’t have to explain yourself to me. I trust you and what you choose to tell me is your business. I don’t care about rumors or whatever, alright?”

He stared at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. You couldn’t read his face, and you were about to ask him if he was okay before he started talking again.

“Thank you,” he told you, voice soft as his hands came to rest on your waist once again, “That means a lot to me. I want to say more, but I don’t think I can articulate it very well right now. Just—thank you.”

“It’s just basic respect, dude,” you replied dismissively, blushing a little, “No big deal.”

“Well, I’m not used to that, I guess. And don’t call me dude when I’m touching your hips.”

You laughed, your arms having wrapped around the back of his neck as he pulled you closer.

“I thought this was just you being friendly,” you teased, grinning at him.

“Seems like I’ve given you the wrong idea, ‘cause I’m really not trying to be friendly with you. Like, at all.”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol in your system, how protective you felt over him at the moment, or how he was looking at you, but you were curious to see if things would escalate between the two of you tonight. So, without second guessing yourself, you leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

“Maybe you should give me the right idea, then.”

Something changed in his expression, and before you knew what was happening, he was leading you through the crowd, and you were embraced by the loud music once more.

“Hey, my wrist is still broken, so I really shouldn’t be dancing—“

His course deviated then, and you suddenly realized that he had taken you towards the wall. You were out of direct contact with the crowd, but they still danced around you, shielding you from prying eyes. This was still very much public, but certainly more private than before. His hands returned to your waist as he leaned forward, lips now next to your ear.

“Can I show you?” he asked, voice lower and breathier than you’d ever heard it, “Just tell me what you’re comfortable with, and I’ll show you that I’m not trying to be friends. Fuck, please let me show you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, but you brought your good hand to rest on the back of his head, trying to ground yourself.

“Yeah,” you told him, running your fingers through his hair, “I’ll stop you if you go too far.”

He had backed you all the way against the wall now, his hand coming up to caress your face as he leaned closer. His face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath fanning against your lips, his thumb gently tracing your jaw as he inched forward. You almost passed out when you met his stare, his eyes filled with what you could only describe as desire. He looked at you for confirmation one more time, and when you offered him a small nod, his lips were on yours in an instant.

You had suspected all along that he would be a good kisser, but thinking that and experiencing it were very different. He started out relatively slowly, but you wanted to prove to him that you could match his pace, so you lightly tugged his hair to deepen the kiss. You were surprised when he faltered a bit, having to brace himself against the wall and pull away for a second.

“God, fuck,” he groaned, voice strained, “If you do that again, I might embarrass myself.”

You were too curious to find out what that could mean to stop yourself from pulling him forward and capturing his lips in your own once more, savoring the taste of him on your tongue for a second before tugging his hair again, this time a bit harder.

His reaction was immediate. He moaned into your mouth, left hand still holding your jaw and right hand now falling to firmly grab your ass, pulling you even closer. The kiss deepened further, and your grip on his hair tightened the second you felt his tongue.

You hadn’t made out with someone so passionately in a long time, and you certainly hadn’t ever imagined yourself doing it so publicly. And yet, here you were, letting Luke Skywalker shove you against the wall and fuck his tongue into your mouth.

“I’m sorry, fuck—“ he gasped against your lips. You weren’t sure what he meant until you felt him rock forward, something solid pressing into you. You suddenly realized that this part at least had to be real, and the knowledge that you had made Luke hard had you floating. With him against you like this, you decided to experimentally pull his hair again. He moaned, this time loudly enough for you to catch the wandering eyes of a few people standing nearby, but he paid them no mind, instead squeezing your ass harder and trying to bring you even closer.

“Luke,” you warned, breath hot against his ear as he moved to bury his face into the side of your neck, “Luke, we’re in public. People are staring.”

“People always stare. Doesn’t matter,” he protested, starting to kiss your jaw, “I’d go down on you right here, I don’t care—“

“Luke!” you gasped, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a bit, putting some space between you, “You’re drunk. I don’t want you to be embarrassed tomorrow or something, okay?”

“Embarrassed,” he repeated, like it was his first time ever hearing that word, “No way. I’d let you do anything to me. Anywhere.”

“You can’t be serious,” you replied, laughing at how ridiculous he was, heart hammering in your chest, “You’ve had a lot to drink—“

“You think I only want you like this because I’m drunk?” he asked, tucking your hair behind your ear as his eyes bore into yours, reading you so intensely that you felt dizzy.

“I mean…maybe? I don’t know. I’m just confused, I guess. Like, we aren’t—you and I aren’t really together, you know?”

You didn’t understand why, but you were certain that hurt flashed across his face for a second before he recovered, biting his lip and looking down at his feet, nodding.

“Yeah, I know that,” he murmured, his tone unreadable to you as he looked back up, “Doesn’t mean I’m only making out with you because I’m drunk, though. I wanted to do this in your bedroom, remember? Just because we aren’t together doesn’t mean I don’t want you. I do. A lot. Like, all the time. I thought that was obvious.”

“Are you being serious?” you asked, emphasizing your bewilderment with a drunken hiccup.

“Are you? You can feel my dick right now, can’t you? If you can’t, that’s a bit of a blow to my ego—“

“Don’t be a smart ass,” you scoffed, giving him a lighthearted shove, earning a chuckle from him, “I meant that you’re beautiful. Like, ethereally beautiful. I’m just a little surprised to learn that you’re attracted to me. I wasn’t trying to insult the size of your dick.”

You had meant the last part as a joke, but when his eyes widened as a deep crimson bloomed across his cheeks, you started to panic.

“Hey, I’m not actually trying to imply anything about your dick. It seems big, from what I can tell, and—“

He was giggling now, still blushing as he shook his head at you in disbelief.

“I was just joking about that,” he insisted.

“Well, you looked offended,” you mumbled, crossing your arms.

“I’m not offended. I’m just—you can’t just call someone ethereal and expect them to instantly recover. It caught me off guard.”

“Oh, fuck off. You know you’re breathtaking in every sense of the word. I’m not the first person to tell you that.”

He awkwardly looked to the side, nervously chewing his lip, and shrugged a little. You were shocked by the realization that he was embarrassed—not by grinding on you and moaning like a porn star in public, no, but because you had called him beautiful.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, eyes wide, “You’re embarrassed. No way. I thought Luke Skywalker didn’t get embarrassed?”

“Shut up,” he murmured, leaning forward and hiding his face in your neck, “You’re such an asshole.”

“You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe that this is where you draw the line. People are practically throwing themselves at you all the time. How could you not be used to hearing you’re attractive?”

“That’s not what you said,” he argued, and you were so thoroughly entertained by the slight pout in his voice, “You called me other stuff. Like, poetic shit. People don’t just say that to each other.”

“Yeah?” you asked teasingly, relishing in the fact that you had him stumbling over his words for a change, “Can’t handle me telling you how beautiful you are?”

“If you’re trying to get me to stop begging to fuck you in public, you’re going about it the wrong way,” he murmured against your neck.

“If it weren’t for the fact that your sister would kill you, then I’d consider it.”

He suddenly stood up then, as if he had just had some stellar epiphany. Alert with wide eyes, he glanced back at the band, their set seemingly coming to a close, and his lips curled up into a wide grin.

“I’m gonna buy us a round before the next band,” he announced, abruptly pulling away from you and offering you his hand.

You were confused, but tangled your fingers together anyway, allowing him to lead you back to the bar. Ignoring the prying eyes of others was much easier when you were inebriated, but conversely, people were a lot less subtle with their staring when they were drunk. You continued to try to pay them no mind, but now you had to wonder how many people had seen Luke shove you up against the wall and make out with you like it was his sworn duty.

When you reached the bar this time, Luke immediately made conversation with Han and greeted Chewie, asking all sorts of small talk questions that you didn’t really see the point of. Han indulged him, though it could’ve been for your sake, you weren’t sure, and gave a few answers that were at least mildly interesting. That suggested to you that Han didn’t see your public display of affection just a moment ago, and you relaxed a little. Luke then ordered drinks for the four of you, and it seemed that everyone was a bit far gone. You briefly wondered where Leia was, but figured she probably did have her own friends to hang out with.

“Where’s your royal pain in the ass sister?” Han asked right on cue, trying to sound disinterested.

“She’ll be around in a few minutes,” Luke replied, and you knew the look in his eye well by now.

You were dying to know what his plan was, but you stayed silent, not wanting to give your scheming up to Han.

Luckily, you wouldn’t have to wait long, catching sight of her at a distance, a long, flowing skirt coming down to her boots and a leather jacket resting on her shoulders. Her shirt was cropped, which seemed slightly unusual for her given what you knew about her style, and her hair was in two long Dutch braids. She looked beautiful, which was no surprise, of course.

What was shocking, however, was that she was on stage.

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fancyfeathers · 4 months ago

Text

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Six -> Next Chapter

Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes

The halls of the museum felt like a trap of a maze, the walls squeezing on you as you walked through them, you on your now fiancé’s arm as you viewed the art galleries and exhibits and all while avoiding your family members that you spotted in the halls, but you still felt their judgment and glares, the only two who were not there were Jason and Cassandra, must have been covering the patrols and well you remember Jason did not really attend these things since his whole dying thing sort of made public appearances rather difficult for him. You spotted Dick and Barbara in the Greek and Roman art exhibit, when Dick spotted you he looked like he was about to cry and Barbara held onto his hand, keeping him from breaking out into a whole scene and panic attack. You spotted Tim holding Damian by the back of his suit jacket when he spotted you with you future husband in the modern art hall, remembering the first time he saw you and your boyfriend making out in the back stairwell of your old high school, he nearly gave him a concussion when he slammed Gabriel against the wall and threatened his life, god can only imagine what he would do now. Stephanie was with Bruce, you spotted them soon after your arrival near the entrance hall of the museum, whispering in hushed tones most likely about you. You had yet to see Duke, but you could bet he was somewhere around here, he was somewhat newer to the family, coming around when you were around ten and have been living in the manor for two or three years and he was around sixteen, but certainly he was no different from the rest of them, his tendencies just hidden better.

You stood sat on one of the benches in the European art hall, a flute of champagne in your hand as your eyes viewed over one of the paintings by Gustav Klimt, an Austrian painter, you remembered it was your mother’s favorite painting which was visiting the museum, the Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I. You felt the weight of the bench shift as your fiancé came to sit down behind you after conversing with a few colleagues of his family’s business.

“My mother would have loved seeing this again.” You said, your head not even turning in to look at him, just fixed on the painting. “My mom took me to see it in its home exhibit in Neue Galerie New York and we just sat and looked at it for hours, I was six but I have never felt more stunned at something.”

“Maybe we can invite her to the wedding… if she can come.” He said, his hand resting on top of your free hand on your thigh. “But dove… there are some people who want to talk to you.”

“Gabriel, I really don’t want to see my family right now-“

“It’s not your father.” Your fiancé’s words caught your attention and you looked at him to see him gesture to someone standing in the surprisingly empty archway of the exhibit entrance. A slight feeling of shock formed in your chest as you saw a blonde haired man in another of one of those expensive suits.

“Mr. Queen… It has been awhile.” You forced yourself to stand up and walk towards the face you knew well, the billionaire Oliver Queen, known to few as the Green Arrow, a member of the Justice League, and someone who has known you for years. “I thought you would be back in Star City, not here.”

“I’m sponsoring one of the exhibits tonight, an appearance from me was sort of called for.” He reached out his arm for you to take, glancing back at your fiancé. “May I borrow her? My congratulations on your engagement by the way.”

“Thank you, Mr. Queen, and yes you may just bring her back.” With Gabriel’s words you took Oliver’s arm and the two of you walked further into the mostly empty gallery, only a person or two lingering about but they were either drunk or two far away to hear your conversation.

“You’re not just here for the exhibit, coming across the country just for this and leaving Star City.” You spoke to him, your mind snapping back to the warning Talia gave you a few weeks prior, something was happening and it was even bigger than you thought. “This is League business, isn’t it? Who else is here?”

“You sound like your old man, you know that right?” You shot a glare at Oliver after he said that, which made him regret that comment. “You are right, at the moment it is just your dad, my wife, and myself here, a few others are on call at the moment in case anything goes south.”

“Let me guess, Kent and Allen? They are the only two fast enough to get here in time.”

“Right again, but chances are it is not that extreme, something we can keep isolated to just Gotham.” You watched Oliver look down at you and a sigh escaped his lips. “I heard about what you have been up to during these last few years, Barbara was talking about it with Dinah and Helena.”

“Now they know, great…” You sighed, now it was not long before the Bird of Prey got involved with this as well, though you doubt someone like Helena or Selina would give you much trouble, especially since Selina Kyle was friends with your mother. “Look I really don’t want to get in your way or their way, so I just really don’t want to start any trouble with any of them.”

“Trouble, you based your style off of Dinah, she could not feel more flattered.” You did in fact base your style of your suit off of the famous heroine, albeit a more modest version since your family would be more disappointed if you dressed entirely like her. “I think the press also picked up on that, that’s where Songbird came from, right?”

“Ya… I didn’t think about it like that…” You paused, you had thought it was only from the press thinking you were involved with the Batman, Robin, Nightwing, bird and bat named heroes. You had never thought that it was actually linked to the one who inspired you, your own hero and idol, Black Canary. “I thought it was just linked to, you know, my old man… I don’t think I mind it as much after hearing that.”

“I thought that would be the case.” He laughed and you felt his arm slip away from yours, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “I have been watching the work you have been doing recently, if you want to do this then you have an ally with Dinah and myself. If Gotham does not suit you, I’m sure we would be happy enough to work with you in Star City.”

“Thanks… that means a lot.” You said to him, glancing from his eyes to where Gabriel waited on the plush leather bench. “But I think I’ll stay in Gotham for a while, I have a few more things to do, but thank you, I’ll be in touch.”

______________________

You were back on Gabriel’s arm after your conversation with Oliver Queen, walking off to the main hall of the museum, your head leaning against his shoulder as if protecting you from your family approaching you, along with that there were so many people that were around you all that they prevented someone, Damian mostly likely, from making a scene.

“Congratulations on your engagement.” You heard a familiar voice chime from behind you, you both turned around to see the face of Mr. Austen, he was holding his little sister on his hip, all while wearing a pastel pink suit that she picked out no doubt. You had mentioned to Gabriel that Mr. Austen was your and your friend’s sponsor, so it was no surprise that he knew your identity. “Would you mind if I borrowed you two for a moment?”

“Of course, in private I assume?” Mr. Austen nodded to your question and you immediately knew that this was a matter that involved vigilante business. You glanced at Gabriel and tugged him forward, following Mr. Austen as he led you back through the building, past the crowds, and all the way back to the storage room for closed exhibits, an area that no doubt had a basement with all the pieces this place had which had to be kept under tight security. Mr. Austen opened the storage door with a skeleton keycard, he glanced back at Gabriel and smiled. “My company made the security for the place, one of the only reasons it has not been ransacked.”

“Big brother is so smart!” His little sister added in which drew a chuckle from all of the adults present. You all stepped into the large room and when he was about to close the door behind you all a foot stopped it from closing and your heart skipped at the sight of your father pushing the door open, her persona and face he forces for the public completely gone.

“A-ah… Mr. Wayne, now is not a good time-“

“I need to talk to my daughter.” Your father interrupted Mr. Austen and something with that ticked you off, you shot a glare at your father which made a scowl form on his face.

“I have work to do father, whatever you want will have to wait.” You looked back at Mr. Austen and nodded for him to continue. “Please go on.”

“Right… as you know my company handles most of the security in the city, including Arkham Asylum, there was a security breach, not a breakout… yet.” You watch him pull out a small case from a pocket sewn in on the inside of his suit. “Clove is handling a situation with who I assume to be the Riddler down by the Dixon Docks and Henbane, Nettle, and Foxglove are shutting down one of Black Mask’s drug trade…”

“So I’m the only one who can handle it because I am fully recovered, got it.” You paused, glancing at your father who was still listening intently to your conversation, it felt like at any moment he was going to drag you out and all the way back to the manor so you will never be put into danger again. “Two things though, I don’t have my suit and even if I did, are there any big names in there, or anyone with a grudge against me?”

“Killer Moth and Firefly have been there since you caught them last month, but besides them, Bane, Scarecrow, Two Face, and well… the Joker, but none of them have ever gotten involved with you so there is no personal score to settle there.” You swear you could see your father pop a blood vessel, but he could not say anything because while Gabriel knew your identity and knew your father knew your identity, Gabriel had no clue that Bruce Wayne was the Batman. “Then as for your suit, don’t worry.”

He waved the case up before opening it, it was a small pin, an enamel raven pin. You let him pin it onto your dress as you raised an eyebrow. “It’s a pin?”

“It’s also your suit.” You let him reach out and tap the pin twice and before you could react there was an outburst and it felt like it was a scene from a movie as the fabric formed around your body like changing fibers. You must have looked like a child in a candy store with your reaction because Mr. Austen smiled, probably would have laughed if the situation was not so serious. “Nanotechnology, something I’ve been hoping for all of you, but I have only managed to finish your suit.”

“No it’s fine, thank you, oh my god this is so sick!” You must have shreked like a little girl because Gabriel hushed you.

“There is a bike for you out back, equipment on it for you as well.” Mr. Austen gestured towards a narrow window for you to climb out of across the room and you nodded. “I’ll send you the information on your way, it seems I’m on comm lines tonight.”

“Is Miss Wayne gonna be a hero?” The little girl asked, looking at her big brother with a wide smile and Mr. Austen nodded and then to which she looked at you with the biggest smile. “You’re my favorite.”

“Thank you.” You looked at Gabriel then, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.” You then looked at your father, staring at him for a moment, your smiling fading away. “Goodbye father.”

______________________

Your motorcycle roared beneath you as you rode up north, navigating your way to Arkham Island. You were easily pushing ninety miles per hour as you were driving and weaving in and out of traffic. You drove even faster down the Robbins Bridge, not wanting to get stuck in an incident like last time. The closer you got to the Asylum the more bare the streets became and soon enough it was just you…

You wanted it to be just you…

The road lit up before you as lights from a car as it rode up next to you. You would have panicked if the car was not so painfully familiar, the Batmobile, a stupid name in your opinion but it was a cool looking car. You wondered how long it would take for your old man to follow after you after he heard Joker’s name, you just did not expect for him to be this fast.

It was no wonder that he was rushing after you, the words Joker, secretly breach, and Arkham Asylum did not sit well together. He was already protecting you, but remembering what happened to Jason when Joker murdered him was too much to risk.

Luckily your father did not try to cut you off or get in your way as you rode down the road and bridge to Arkham Asylum, only stopping when you stopped in front of the asylum, just past the gates. You jumped off your bike just as the doors to the Batmobile opened up and your father stepped out in full gear.

“Songbird, go home.” His voice was commanding and for the first time you did not hate being called that name since Oliver shined a new light upon it. You ignored his words, continuing to walk forward to the doors of Arkham Asylum, flipping him off, which you instantly regretted because he grabbed your arm, pulling you backwards, making you look at him. “I gave you an order, Songbird. Now go home.”

“You don’t get to order me, I’m not like one of your birds and bats.” You brought your knee up to his gut, which was practically nothing, but it got him to let go of you. “Besides it’s just a security check, I can handle and of these fuckers, and this is my job and case, not yours.”

“I am trying to protect you-“

“I was told to expect you when I was on my way here, Songbird.” A familiar and tired voice spoke out to you as the doors to the asylum opened up. You spotted the familiar face of the GCPD commissioner, Jim Gordan, a person you had worked with more and more over the last two years, of course this was the first time he was seeing you and the Batman together. “I did not expect you to bring Batman along. Are you one of his?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The answers were spoken at the same time and you shot a glare at him and he frowned at you. You glanced back at Commissioner Gordon and you took a deep breath before shaking your head. “He likes to think I am one of his, but I don’t take orders from him, our tech and gear are not the same and our comm lines are completely different. He just wanted to follow along.” You rolled your eyes and stepped inside the building, your father following closely behind you. “What are we looking at, Commissioner? Break out level or something like a security camera malfunction?”

“Security camera is down in Joker’s cell.” He replied with a sigh. “My men are spread thin enough so they can’t get it back online, besides not even the asylum staff has access to the security network, I was informed that you do?”

“That would be correct, I can handle it-“

“I’ll do it.” Your father interrupted you and you scoffed as his hand came to firmly grasp onto your shoulder and he looked down at you. “You can wait outside the cell.”

“Like hell I will! You don’t even have access to the…” Your hand trailed down to your own utility belt to grab the emergency connector the the Austen Security Network, but it was gone. You looked up and it was in his hand. “Hey, that’s not yours, you can’t have that-“

“If you argue I will drag you back home, do you understand?” His tone was the same one he used when you were a child, stern and serious, as if you were going to sneak out to go to a party with your friends, that’s how he viewed you, a child, his child.

“…fine…”

“Good.” You felt yourself shrink into yourself, crossing your arms as you passed the police commissioner, your father leading you further into Arkham Asylum. “Stay close, I need to talk to you after this.”

______________________

You have never been this far into Arkham Asylum in your life, Henbane or Foxglove were normally the ones who handled things on the island, but even then this was more the territory of the Birds and the Bats, not your turf. Even half of the inmates in this place are people you have never even faced before, nor did you want to…

Bane would snap you like a twig, you were too small and nimble to stand a chance against him.

Scarecrow was not the sort you could handle, that fear toxin would only bring back bad memories of when you lived in Wayne Manor and could potentially expose not only your identity but that of your entire family. Though you did read his old reports from when he occasionally taught at Gotham University and when he was just Dr. Jonathan Crane, despite his madness he was quite smart.

Two Face, well you could stand a chance against him, he was someone you could handle, but you chose not to for personal reasons. He knew you as a child, Bruce Wayne’s little princess, and that… you were no longer that girl.

Then there was the Joker. Jason's story happened long before you arrived at the mansion, but you could see the physical and mental scars it left on him. You remember the first time you saw one of his panic attacks, his mind going back to that day when the Joker tortured and murdered him, it scared you and it was second hand.

Your father made sure you were firmly behind him as you approached Joker’s cell, making it clear that you were just going to watch and that you would run if anything went wrong. You did not know what to expect, but it was not what you saw. He was sitting on the bed in his padded cell, his arms restrained in a straight jacket, his hair was an ugly shade of neon green which was faded due to the lack of hair dye in Arkham Asylum, his eyes were wide and unblinking, it almost reminded you of a doll you would see in a horror movie, and the. There were his lips, there was a cut across his face which had the illusion of extending his smile to an unsettling degree, it was scared over but it was clear that he continued to pick at it, reopening the wound and it was scabbing over again and again. And then when he looked up at the two of you, more specifically your father, you wanted to vomit.

“Oh Batsy, you came to see me.” His voice had a high pitched, raspy, sing song tone, you already hated it. Then his eyes turned to you and a cackle escaped his lips that sent a shiver down your spine. “You even brought another one of your birds for me to play with, I had such fun with the last one and all of his screams, I wonder if she’ll scream louder.”

“You’re never going to get the chance.” Your father snapped back, not wasting a moment as he stepped into the cell, so secure it had a two rooms, one that kept the Joker behind bars and one that kept him from reaching out and grabbing someone if he got free of his straight jacket, a layer of bullet proof glass, and in that little area between the barriers was the security camera that was down.

“And I’m not one of his birds.” You snapped back to the madman as your father began to hook up the connector to the camera. “He just interfered with my case, a thorn in my side.”

“Oh but I’m sure you would scream his name, begging him to save you, oh I would love to hear that.” He laughed again, his voice ringing loudly in your ears as he mocked you. “Oh Batman, save me, save me please! I don’t want to die!”

“I’ve had enough.” You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel and walking back down the hallway of cells in Arkham Asylum. “I would rather shoot myself in the skull and kill myself then beg for him to save me.”

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aakeysmash · 1 year ago

Text

Roommate or boss?

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Warnings: cursing, cutesy stuff.

Word count: 3.6k.

Previous part: part 5

And what's your definition of love?

You can't seem to stop thinking about the way Katsuki looked at you with somewhat of a soft gaze, body relaxed and on your shared couch. You noticed he tends to be tense a lot, like something is always bothering him, and it's rare to see him for what he hides to be. He acts like being soft is a weakness, almost as if being vulnerable in the past has caused him a scar that is not fully healed yet.

Also, if he asked me that without even blinking, he must have hella bitches, you think. What kind of guy talks so freely about love with a girl?

"What should I do Saturday? What's something you like to do, Y/N? Thinkkk" you whine to yourself. Blaming your own brain for lack of ideas is very therapeutic.

For you, love is easier with words. You could probably write a book about love if you really wanted to, but you don’t think you’re that good with actions. It’s not like you don’t try, it’s more like a lack of experience: you’re not used to thinking about expressing love, you just do it depending on who you’re facing. You are a pretty habitual person, so you might be shy when you first meet someone, but when you start knowing them you never fail to show what you truly are. You’ve never liked to hide your personality to make friends: it’s better to have a couple of real friends instead of a multitude of fake ones. You like expressing how much you care about someone with words, but you and this someone have to be close. You love loving, and you probably would be nowhere without it, but showing your rude and cold roommate something so important to you is difficult, maybe because if you don’t make a good impression you’re going to cry. Joking!

Unbeknownst to you, Katsuki is freaking out. He regretted asking you that stupid ass question the second he went to bed that day, and he regretted making that stupid ass deal with you even more. It's not because he doesn't want to know the answer, he's really damn curious about what you think, but he doesn't know how to answer it. He doesn’t know how to act in friendships, let alone in loving relationships. You just looked so soft, so cute, so trustable in that moment, that his brain shortcircuited and became smooth. "I'm a fucking idiot", he grunts while putting his pillow on his face.

He knows what love means to him. Love is the way his mother still calls him to check on how he's doing even if he doesn't put enough effort into keeping the relationship strong; it's the way his father smiles at their antics when they get together for the holidays even if he hates how loud they can get; it's the way Kirishima gets him hot chocolate every hard day at work without Katsuki asking; it's the way you care about Ochaco enough to call her even when you're exhausted from your own day at work, bags under your eyes and hand soothing your back that hurts from how much you've been at your desk studying. It's in the way the people around him want to see him happy, and in the way his heart beats a little more affectionately when he sees how naturally they seem to do things for his own happiness.

He sees love reflected in the actions of those who are close to him, but expressing it himself? He doesn't even know how the few people around him can tolerate him.

He decides to call Kirishima and ask him about frienships. Out of his male friends he’s probably the only one who can answer properly, and there’s no way he’s talking about it with the girls.

"Oi."

"Hey, Bakubro, everything alright?" his right hand answers.

"Listen, we're friends, right?" Katsuki bursts out.

"Uhm, yes, of course. Why are you asking me this? It's weird coming from you" the redhead suspiciously tells him.

The blonde ignores the comment and continues with his questions. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?" Kirishima says, more confused than before. Katsuki sighs, because he knows his friend will have to know all the details about it or he won't shut up about it, ever.

"Made a deal with my roommate, I have to show her what love means to me" he explains.

"That sounds pretty intimate, to be honest. You barely talk about her and suddenly you talk about love with her? Is there something more between you two? And what does that have to do with me anyway?" he rambles on.

"Shitty hair, stop asking questions, fuck. We were talking about friendships after she made me watch a dumb ass film and now I don't fucking know how to tell her what I think about love. She said to think about love inside of friendships. You're supposed to tell me why you're my friend. Also, we're not fucking intimate or some bullshit. As I said, we made a deal" he replies, annoyed.

"Sure, every roommate makes a deal about love nowadays" Kirishima mumbles.

"SO?" Katsuki is starting to get pissed. "Just answer the damn question."

His friend sighs, before starting to answer. "You're not good at telling people how you feel about them, but you know how to make them feel safe. And I'm not talking about physical safety, even if I bet if I asked Mina she would say you scare the creepy guys away, I'm talking about safe friendship. It's nice to know you're always there if I need you, you know? You help me without being asked to most of the time, and you don't even realise it. Remember that time half of the class fell sick and you spent a day going to the store to take medicines for every specific illness we had? Or remember when me and Mina almost broke up because of that stupid broken plate and you talked me out of it saying something like "If you really want to break up with her go on, but I'm breaking your nose because this is a really stupid fucking reason to break up with the girl of your dreams"? That's stuff that touches people. Yeah, your love can't be defined as kind, but it's real. Everyone needs to have a friend that will straight up tell them when they're wrong and that doesn't sugarcoat things. You're that guy, man. I’m glad I have you as a friend."

Katsuki is stunned into silence. He didn’t think Kirishima would be this specific.

“Hello? Are you still there?” His friend asks, thinking the line has fallen. Katsuki clears his throat before answering “Yeah. I didn’t expect all of this. Thanks, Eijirou, I appreciate it.”

His friend chuckles. “No worries, bro. Also, what’s going on with this roommate of yours? And don’t tell me that it’s just a deal, we both know it’s a lie. What type of person is she?”

Katsuki groans. He is currently in his feelings though, so he shares a bit of what’s on his mind lately.

“She’s cool, I guess. She knows how to deal with my mood swings in a way that… you-know-who didn’t do. She’s funny when she wants to be and she stands her ground with me, but she’s also pretty kind from what I’ve seen. Sometimes too much. It annoys me,” he says almost whispering. He feels like if he raises his voice even a little bit then he won’t be able to not think about you for the rest of the day. Almost as if the raw things he’s feeling right now will come back to haunt him.

Kirishima hums. He knows he won’t get more than his friend already said. It’s a miracle he even talked about something so personal.

“I’m glad you found a good roommate, man. You know how they say, calm at home equals calm at work” he says.

“And who says that?” responds Katsuki, raising both his voice and one eyebrow.

“Me” Kirishima proudly says.

“This was some of the corniest shit you ever said, Kiri. And I saw you propose to Mina” Katsuki barks.

His friend bursts out laughing. “Yeah, and you’re still my best man at the wedding.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. I’m gonna work out now, see you at work” he says rolling his eyes.

“Sure, man. See ya,” and he hangs up.

Katsuki gets up from his bed and goes straight toward your bedroom door. He makes sure to knock before opening it, then crosses his arms and leans on the side of it. You look up at him from your desk and stretch. You’ve been writing for hours.

“How’s your vitamin D intake?” he asks you. You look confused. Is this a dirty joke?

“Why?”

“Because. Answer the question,” he says.

“Are you talking about dick or the literal sun?” You respond.

“Both. I do think you need to get laid. It could make you less insufferable” he answers, smirking.

“Fuck off, Katsuki” you roll your eyes. “By the way, I could use a walk if you want to go out. Do we need groceries or something?” You stand up, going next to him. Up close your height difference is even more noticeable.

“Nah. I was thinking about Saturday” he says looking down at you. Damn. If she comes a little closer I could strangle her without exerting too much effort. I’d just have to straighten my arms and get her neck and-

“Why are you looking at me like that? You’re freaking me out. Please cover your eyes and get out of my way, I need to pee” you tell him scowling, bumping his shoulder and getting out of your room. “Also, I did say that you can choose to go out, so if you show love by taking someone to the Bahamas, I have nothing to object to.”

You hear him humming before entering the bathroom door.

“I can’t take you to the Bahamas, ‘cause if I see that ass in a bikini, you’re getting both of your vitamins D” he mumbles, just having finished staring at your backside and knowing you can’t hear him. He shakes his head to make the voices disappear, then prepares himself to work out. A run will do.

It’s finally Saturday. For this deal both you and Katsuki took the day off at work, so it’s basically a small vacation. You wake up at 9 am, which isn’t even that bad, but when you get out of your room with sleep still on your features you see your roommate super busy in the kitchen. He’s so focused that you think he hasn’t noticed you, so you stare at him for a bit. He’s such a housewife. Let me take a picture, you think.

When he hears the click of your phone’s camera he snaps his head towards you. “Delete that shit,” he says with a deep voice.

“On my dead body, Mr. Bakugou,” you reply.

He growls, then throws you a mean look. “I’m poisoning your food, brat.”

“Oh! You’re cooking for me? How nice of you” you say genuinely, getting closer to him and observing what he’s doing.

“Don’t look. It’s for later. We’re having a picnic” he roughly responds.

“Is this what you planned on doing for today?” You ask, smiling up at him.

“Yeah” he says hesitantly. He didn’t think you’d be excited, and seeing you smile for something so little makes him pause. He composes himself, remaining neutral. “I'ma need your help though, we’re baking cookies. Is that easy enough for you, dumbass?” He continues, smirking.

“Hey!” You pout, throwing a punch at his arm. He chuckles. You’re surprised, because you’re not used to hearing his laugh, but you go with the flow and laugh with him. His laugh is a bit rough, just like him: you like it though, because it shows a little of that particular side he doesn’t show often. You’re a sucker for it, your need to always know every detail being quelled a little and making you feel light. Being in Katsuki’s presence is like being exposed to the bright and hot July sun for a whole day and finally finding a bottle of fresh water. You still don’t know if he’s the sun or the water, you just know that it makes you happy.

You start mixing the ingredients according to the recipe he reads you and he occasionally screams that you’re not doing it the right way, taking over. After a while he frustrates you so much that you take a bit of flour, put it on your hand and then slap it on his chest. He’s flabbergasted, your white handprint on his black tee super visible. He doesn’t say anything for 5 minutes, just staring at you and at his shirt, while you’re on the floor crying from how much you’re laughing from his expression.

“You bitch” he seethes, scowling. “If you want me to show you how I hate people, you’re on the right fucking path”. Then he takes some cookie batter and smears it on your forehead. You try fighting him but he gets both of your wrists in one of his hands in a matter of seconds, and you can’t escape.

He gets on your eye level and with mirth in his eyes tells you “Y’can’t win at this. Keep on cooking or you’re not gonna taste what I prepared for you”. You poke out your tongue with laughter still in your irises. He rolls his eyes, trying to appear mad. At that moment, you realise that- He’s having fun. He's happy.

"If you're going to boss me around I'm at least going to have the music privilege," you tell him, wriggling out of his grasp. He whines, saying how your music always gives him a headache, but he's lying. You caught him singing along more than he would want to know.

You keep on cooking and singing all morning. You laugh, you scream while running around your living room making fun of each other (well, you laugh, he scowls), you truly enjoy your free time for the first time in what feels like ages. Katsuki doesn't try to hide that he's enjoying himself and how he gets annoyed when you're not on tune, and you beam at the fact he feels comfortable enough to show you some of his true colors. Your chocolate chip cookies turn out to be pretty amazing, and Katsuki says that it's only because he made the recipe himself.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Y/N" he smirks, looking at you breaking one cookie in half. You're both sitting down, having just finished taking them out of the oven.

"You know, you never call me by my name. Is that because you're rude or do you have problems with showing affection? How's your relationship with your mother?" you mock him while munching.

He flicks your forehead and blows on your face, making you scowl. He smells like the cookie he just finished eating plus a little bit of the coffee you made for the both of you. You offer him the bigger half of the cookie you broke in two, and he stares at you for a bit before taking it.

"You could've given me the smaller part. It's not like we don't have enough of them" he mumbles. You just shrug.

"Just take it. It came as a natural gesture, don't worry, it's not like I like you enough as a person to plan something like that" you reply, flipping him off while standing up and dusting yourself.

"Go prepare yourself. We're going out in 30 minutes," he tells you ignoring your middle finger right in his face and looking at his watch. If you didn't think about it it's even worse, dumbass , he thinks.

"30 minutes?! But I want to be cute! Ugh! You could've told me sooner!" you scream while running toward your door, and you hear him scoffing. You turn around and look at him, still basking in the sun that comes from the window in front of the kitchen counter. He seems more peaceful than he's ever looked, with flour on his clothes and his hair ruffled up from how much his hands were in it when you were doing something wrong baking.

"Kats?"

"Yeah, Y/N?"

"This was cute. We should do this again sometimes. You're a great cook" you say, giving him one of your most genuine smiles. He nods, then tells you to hurry up. When he's alone in the kitchen he brings one of his hands on his chest and hears how fast his heart is beating. He groans. You're going to give him a heart disease. Was this day a good idea?

You get out of the house and he has to force himself to not look at your legs. You wore one of those flowy summer dresses that compliments your skin so well he feels like he'll have a nosebleed at the end of the day. Fuck Katsuki, get a hold of yourself. You sound like a horny teenager, he scolds himself.

You lay your blanket on the green grass of one of the parks near your apartment, and he gets out different tupperwears with different things in them. He even gets out two bentos filled to the brim with food. You're shocked.

"Just how early did you get up to do all of this?! There's so much food!" you excitedly say, looking at the pearly whites of his teeth when he flashes you a shy smile for a fraction of a second, before returning to his usual impassible face.

"Early enough to see you still sleeping like the lazy ass you are. Don't flatter me too much, dumbass: dig in, you're gonna taste the best fucking food you'll ever eat. I'm never doing all of this again, but I'm gonna win this fucking deal no matter what" he says.

"You mean I just had to make a bet with you to make you a decent human being for a day? I'm writing it down" you joke. He rolls his eyes, scowl ever present on his features.

"Oh! By the way, I thought about doing something too. We're going to play a bunch of different games and whoever wins the majority of them is going to clean the house alone for two weeks. Are you in? Or are you scared to lose?" you ask him, pointing your fork at him and looking mischievous.

"You're talking to a master here. You're gonna be so sorry for yourself at the end of the day" he responds, looking ready to annihilate you.

You spend the rest of the afternoon eating and playing with each other. You're both really competitive, so most games finish as ties, but you have fun. When the sun starts setting, you get your things and start going toward your apartment.

"By the way, I won the flag quiz. That's so much better than winning fucking monopoly" he says frowning.

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say, loser," you tell him.

"We're gonna have a rematch. I'm gonna get your ass so bad you'll cry" he barks, glaring at your laughing form.

You open your door and mimick a parrot with your hand, like you're saying he's all talk and no smoke. He slaps the back of your head receiving an ouch from you, then puts the containers he used to prepare lunch in the sink. You sit on the kitchen counter while he's washing them.

"So, you're big on acts of service? That's how you show love, right?" you ask him, swinging your legs and looking at his back.

"Yeah, basically. I like it when people enjoy the things I do for them, I guess" he answers, not turning his face toward you. "Instead, your love language is quality time, right?" he continues.

You hum. "I like physical contact too, but it depends on the person I'm receiving it from, you know? It makes me super uncomfortable if someone forces it on me" you explain, shrugging. He nods, drying his hands and turning around.

"I noticed," he says.

"How?"

"I'm good at details. That's why I'm good at everything I do," he responds, seriously.

"Woah, your ego just blinded me," you tell him, a bit disgusted.

"Whatever. Hot choco then we order out?" he offers.

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired. What about you make it?" you whine, and he scoffs.

"You ain't no princess, get your ass up," he says, putting one of his hands on your thigh and shaking it. He's positioned in a way where he maintains some distance, but if he were to take two steps he'd be between your legs. She's not uncomfortable now, he thinks. You huff, then hop off the kitchen counter.

"You should call me princess, since you look like the assassin the rival king hired to kill me" you mumble, getting a pan out.

"Oh, I'd kill you just right, princess" he whispers in your ear, making you shiver. He sounded kind of serious, too.

You push him away, calling him an idiot, and he chuckles before ordering pizza for the both of you.

Well, today was nice, you tell yourself, a little smile on your lips. I'd even like his pomeranian-looking ass if he wasn't so rude, you remark.

Meanwhile, as he's looking at you singing to yourself, he thinks that if he doesn't distance himself a bit from your big eyes and pretty smile, your story will be an "enemies to lovers" instead of a runaway princess and her assassin.

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achilles-rage · 6 months ago

Text

thirteen crows: epilogue

summary: some insight on how they treat you weeks, and months later.

word count: 1.8k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: i wasn’t gonna post an epilogue to this, but i sort of liked the idea of looking at their dynamic months later, so i decided to write this short little drabble-type thing. enjoy<3

warnings: stockholm syndrome(??), controlling behaviour, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

three weeks later

You leave your boss’s office with tears in your eyes, keeping your head down as you walk to the kitchen to catch your breath so no one can see the sadness written across your face. You were barely in his office for 10 minutes, and he wasn’t that upset with you, but you’ve never been good with confrontation.

He had pulled you into his office before you started your shift and showed you some reviews that he found online about the Thirteen Crows that day. There were two reviews with your name specifically added, ranting about how bad your service was and how rude you were to them.

Your boss wasn’t necessarily mad; he knows that you usually have no problems with customers, but he was still rightfully worried about the reviews.

You try to finish your shift with a smile; desperate to not receive any more negative reviews about your service, but it’s difficult. Either Eddie or Buck has been by your side for the last few weeks; ever since you found out who they really were, and while they make butterflies erupt in your tummy sometimes, they also scare the hell out of you, which doesn’t help your nerves.

They told you they wouldn’t hurt you, not if you follow the rules, and you want to believe that, but you feel on edge every time you’re with them. Which is most of the time. You’re afraid to do anything; afraid that something you see as harmless will send them into a rage.

You also know that there’s no escaping them either. You know why they’re with you all the time outside of work; they won’t let you leave them.

When Buck finally picks you up from your shift, you stay silent in his passenger seat, eyes focused on the passing scenery as his thumb rubs gentle circles on your exposed thigh. Buck can sense your unease; it’s different than usual.

You tried to speak to Tara after your shift; she’s noticed the way you’ve shut down in the past few weeks, but you don’t talk to her. You don’t know how they find out, but they always know when you speak to anyone in a way that’s not just merely being friendly, and they do not like it.

“How was work, sweet girl?” he asks after a few minutes of silence. You blink a few times as you snap out of your daze, then look over at him, chewing on your lip. You don’t want to tell him about your boss and the reviews. God knows what he and Eddie would do.

They’ve continued killing, although they haven’t told you anything about it. They monitor your screen time, and everything else you do, so you don’t know the exact details. You’ve heard people talking about it at work, though, and you’re sure it’s more of the people they’ve met through work that have “deserved it.”

“Good. Long night.” you speak in a quiet tone, shrugging. His eyes dart from the road to you for a second, inspecting your face. His eyes narrow, like he doesn’t quite believe you, but he doesn’t push any further. You’re thankful for this, because you really do like your boss, even though your conversation with him has you on edge.

When you get back to Buck’s apartment, he helps you get ready for bed, and then you’re off to sleep, but not before his head is between your thighs yet again, desperately chasing the taste of your release.

The next morning, Eddie comes to pick you up and takes you to your apartment to pick up some more of your things, then brings you to his house for dinner. He sits at the dinner table while you prepare dinner, and when he, you, Buck, and Christopher sit down to eat, his smile is wide. He loves seeing you like this; his little family, finally complete.

You spend the night at Eddie’s house, your back pulled firmly against his chest, and while you’re not completely relaxed, you sleep soundly. You know Eddie wouldn’t dare do something with Christopher home, and these kinds of nights are the most relaxing for you.

six months later

You gasp softly when someone runs into your shoulder and makes you drop the can you’re holding. You turn quickly and look up to the man that’s run into you, and he looks down with an apologetic smile, raising his shoulders slightly.

You scramble to pick up the can and put it into your cart as he murmurs an apology, but you shut him down immediately.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t looking.” you tell him, although you know that he’s the one that ran into you. You’re so used to immediately backing down that it’s become second nature.

His eyes glance down at the dented can in your cart, and he licks his lips before he speaks again.

“You really shouldn’t buy that one; it can make you sick.” he tells you, stepping a little closer and ducking his head to speak in a quieter voice. With the gleam in his eye and his smile, you’re pretty sure he’s trying to flirt, even though the actual words don’t seem especially flirty.

You give him a smile as you feel your cheeks heating up. Of course you know that already, but this interaction surprised you, and you barely had time to think about your actions.

“Right. Thanks.” you tell him, trying to keep your body language disinterested. You know how Buck and Eddie would see this, and you don’t want anything to happen to this handsome stranger because they felt unnecessarily threatened.

You also don’t want them to take away your outings. They finally rewarded you with unsupervised time outside of the house to run errands, and it took months to finally gain their trust. You don’t want to do anything to ruin it now.

“I’m Will, by the way.” he says, seeming not to get the hint. You give him a tight-lipped smile and grip the handle of your cart, beginning to walk further down the aisle.

“I should really go.” you tell him, and while his brows furrow in confusion, he doesn’t try anything else. You let out a shaky breath once you’re out of the aisle, trying to stop the shaking in your hands as you create more distance between you and the man.

You don’t bother with the rest of the list. You’ve already gotten most of the items, and you don’t want to risk anything else happening.

You pay with the cash Eddie gave you before he dropped you off, and you make sure to keep the receipt and the change in a safe place until you can give it to him. They keep track of your finances, and ever since you lost your job, you have no choice but to rely on them completely.

When you get to his truck, you get right into the passenger seat and let Eddie put the groceries in the back. When he gets back in the driver's seat, he reaches across the centre console and pulls your head toward him, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss.

He sees your nervous expression when he pulls away, and he narrows his eyes as he keeps a hand on your cheek. He doesn’t have to prompt you though, as the words tumble from your lips before you can even think. It’s better to tell him than for him to find out later.

“There was this guy in there, he bumped into me. He apologized, tried to talk to me, but I walked away. I didn’t want to talk to him, I promise.” He smiles at your last sentence, tilting his head to the side as he looks into your wide eyes. They’ve trained you so well.

“It’s okay, sweet girl. You didn’t do anything wrong, did you?” he asks. His voice is soft, but there’s a hint of condescension as well.

You shake your head quickly, frowning, and he smiles wider. He rubs his thumb along your cheek, and you let out a small sigh, leaning into his gentle touch. You can’t help but relish in his soft touches; they’re the only ones you’ve really interacted with since you got fired from your job 4 months ago, and if it weren’t for them, you’re sure you’d be going stir crazy.

They leave you at Buck’s that night, all cuddled up in Buck’s bed with your favourite show on and promise they’ll be back soon. They give you sweet kisses and tender touches before they go, knowing that you won’t leave while they’re gone, not anymore. And when they come back, they know you won’t ask about the specks of blood on their clothes, or the glints in their eyes, even though you know about everything.

They’re always especially worked up when they get back from nights like this, and you’ve learned not to ask questions. They happen less often now that you’re with them all the time, but they still have this desire to go out, just the two of them, and have some of their own fun.

You know they’ve done something; you know it has to do with the man from the grocery store, and you know they won’t tell you a thing, which you’re thankful for. You thought you’d be more used to their actions after so long, but it still makes your stomach churn when you think about it.

You let them lay you down on Buck’s bed anyway, and although you hate knowing what they’ve just done, you like how much attention they pay to you when they get home. They’ve showered by the time they touch you, so you tell yourself that what they’ve done is gone. Their slate is clean, their actions are washed away; down the drain and never to be thought of again.

As they pay attention to your neck, and your pretty chest, and your plush tummy and thighs, they’re so glad they thought of their plan months ago. You’re completely dependent on them without your job, and that’s exactly how they want you.

It was easy to make those fake reviews; they knew that the original two weren’t enough, so they kept adding new ones until your boss had no choice. And although they knew you’d be upset about the harsh words, they also knew that they’d be able to make you feel better. You’d forget all about your shitty job when you’re completely taken care of by them, and they’ll make sure to give you anything you want as long as you keep being their sweet girl.

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