#Like there's so many events around town that I want to go to but can't because I don't have a car and public transportation is shit here

[dogboy-dyke]

this fucking sucks so bad

[lokis-army-77]

In Thanks

Masc!Mizu x fem reader

Word Count: 1.8k

You have been traveling with Mizu for a little bit and you can't help the feelings that have developed. Maybe it's time for a thank you.

Warning: 18 +. oral sex, fingering, slight choking, scissoring. I think that's it...

A/N: Be forewarned, Mizu is referred to as "he" the whole fic except for one instance.

Masterlist

You had become his traveling companion in a series of fortunate and unfortunate events. 

Unfortunately, your father had sold you to the flesh traders for money he could use to save the farm from disrepair. 

While on the road to another town, the two traders had begun to fight, Mizu was haplessly brought into the scrap when he was seen by the two agitated men. They turned their sights on the lone man just trying to pass by. 

Fortunately, he had killed your owners. At first, he was intent on escorting you to the nearest town and leaving you there in pursuit of his revenge, only that plan changed when you had proved to be useful when it came to medicine. 

A few weeks later left you here, on the outskirts of a small remote seaside town.

Mizu's eyes watch you from the other side of the campfire. They flick so subtly, catching your every move, or lack thereof as you continue to stare. 

It hadn't taken you long to learn the secret he was hiding or rather she was hiding. There were subtle tells, ones that no one would be able to notice or think back on or they were just passersby. But you had been at his side for nearly two months and it was so obvious to you.

"Would you quit staring- it's rude." Mizu quips before going back to cleaning his blade. 

You don't listen. Keeping your eyes firmly glued on his movements, the flexing of muscles under his skin, and the touch of his slender fingers rubbing at the blood on his sword. All of it made your knees weak.

While you had been with Mizu on the road, you had begun to develop feelings for the stoic warrior. Feelings of love and lust. Only now did you feel brave enough to do something about it, and act on these feelings no matter the consequences. 

Your thighs clenched as you continued to watch him. Now was as good a time as any. 

Mizu only tilts his head in your direction when the sound of you standing reaches his ears. Twigs snap under your feet as you make your way closer to him. he turns fully to you now, analyzing whatever it is you could be doing, and why you were nearing him. 

“What do you want?”

You didn’t want to come right out and say it, so you spoke coyly. “I never thanked you properly for saving me. I thought I could do that now.”

“You’ve thanked me enough.” 

“But I haven’t done all that I could. Please, Mizu, allow me to thank you fully.” You’re right next to him now, slowly lowering yourself to your knees. 

Sultry eyes lock on suspicious ones.

With gentle hands, you reach out for his glasses. he leans away only slightly, not far enough to be out of your reach. 

You place them safely on the stool-sized rock beside you. 

“Let me see your sword.”

She breathes your name heavily. 

Your hand caresses over his shoulder, teasing and soft. 

"I'm not what you think." Mizu murmurs just loud enough for you to hear.

You pause before you answer. "You think I don't know? That I do not see past the defense and deeper within? I know." 

His words catch in his throat. "-how?"

"You aren't the first I've seen that have hidden their sex from the world, and you won't be the last." Your fingers loosen the string tying up his hair. The silky strands begin to fall, making his all the more stunning. 

"I've learned to see what many do not and what others would like to keep hidden... call it a gift."

You let your lips fall to the shell of his ear and whisper, “Now, let me see your sword.”

Reaching into his lap, you grasp the hilt of the blade. Carefully you take the katana and sheth it before setting it near the rock. 

She doesn’t stop you when you begin to untie his pants or the obi around his waist. 

Clothes fall away leaving only warm, scarred skin bare to you. Mizu’s breathing deepens as the binds around his chest are removed. 

Slowly you crawl over his body, forcing him to lie back on the cape he used as a blanket. 

Your eyes scanned over his every curve, curves hidden away by the straight lines of men’s clothes. The cool night air had his nipples pebbling and his skin littered with goosebumps. 

With lust-filled eyes, you descend on him. Lips making contact with his own. It wasn’t tender, no it was needy. You wanted him, all of him and he wanted you too. his hands reach your face, pulling you in deeper. 

The kiss leaves you breathless but you continue to kiss him, pulling away from his lips to kiss down the column of his neck and to his chest. You wet your lips hungrily as you take his peeked nipple into your mouth, your other hand teasing the other. 

Teeth nip and pull at the sensitive skin. Your tongue laves over him, pulling out a soft moan of your name. It has you smirking into the supple flesh. 

You trail down further, peppering kisses over taut abs before you come to the place you have so desperately craved to be. The smell is sweet but you know the taste will be even sweeter.

“Thank you, Mizu.” You pull apart his strong, slender legs, inserting yourself between them. 

“Thank you.” You kiss the inside of a thigh then move to the other. “Thank you.”

You lay there with his legs thrown over your shoulders, admiring the pussy before you. Your mouth is watering as you trail a single finger over the slit. 

Mizu sucks in, body tensing, preparing. 

You move your mouth in closer, tongue lapping at the wetness between his folds. The taste had you moaning, the sweet yet heady taste filled your mouth and you knew you'd never get enough of it now. 

Pressing on, you began sucking Mizu's clit. Hands flew into your hair, tugging in pleasure. You could feel his nails scratching your scalp.

“Taste so good.” You hum against him. 

Your left-hand strokes over his firm abdomen while two fingers of your left slowly insert themselves inside Mizu's entrance. 

He's so warm and wet, clenching down around you, pulling you in with need. With lidded eyes, you look up, past the roaming landscape of his body, at his face. His brow is furrowed, pinched in pleasure as your fingers work into his walls. His mouth is open, jaw slacked as sweet gasp after sweet gasp erupts. It’s a wondrous sight to behold and all you’ve ever wanted to be privy to. 

Those gasps turn into short whimpers once your rhythm steadies out and your mouth sucks slightly harder on his clit. His hips buck up, pushing against your mouth as need courses through him. You feel like you’re in a trance, your eyes still locked onto his face as he continues to breathe heavily, lost in a pleasure escalating with each passing second. You keep going, determined to make him feel as incredible as possible.

The sloppy noises of you eating Mizu out have your stomach turning, fluttering with want. You know for certain that your own cunt is dripping, making a mess. You need more than just the pressure of your legs squeezing together, no, you need to feel Mizu against you. 

In the heat of the passion, you pull away. Mizu whines at the loss of your fingers and mouth. “What are-” He stops his question short. You’re throwing off the layers of your clothes, tossing them haphazardly around the forest floor.

With determination you crawl over one of his legs, slotting yourself against him. A breathy sigh leaves your lips when you lower yourself. 

With slow subtle rotations of your hips, you begin to feel the want bubbling in your belly pouring forth. The feel of his cunt against your own is like heaven. Your clit rubbing against his sends a jolt through you. 

“Fuck, I’ve never- ah- I’ve never done this.” He grunts. One hand holds you by the hip, guiding you as you grind down. Your own hands hold fast on his thigh in front of you. 

“Neither have I,” You answer between choppy moans. 

As you piston your hips, you can feel the wetness between the two of you growing. You both groan in pleasure, your hands moving to explore each other's bodies. His fingers trace circles around your breast and you shiver in delight. You heave when Mizu’s hand reaches for your throat and pulls you down into a kiss.

His tongue slips past your lips, pushing back against your own. You may be on top and in control at the moment, but there simmering below Mizu’s surface was a want to flip you both over and take the pleasure that had been so far from his mission of revenge, he had forgotten what it felt like to feel another persons touch in this manner. 

Your back arches at the growing ecstasy within your body and Mizu’s hand tightens. The air is stolen from your lungs for only a moment before he lets go, moaning into your kiss. 

 “Thank you.” You repeat once more. 

You can feel the ache in your abdomen as you move, you’re coming closer and closer to release, and by the way that Mizu is rutting his hips against you, strong and needy, you know he’s close too. 

“Look at me.” You plead, “Wanna see your pretty eyes.”

A deep red blush rises across Mizu’s cheeks at your words, not used to the compliment. The blush makes the topaz color stand out. You could stare into those eyes forever, get lost, and never leave. 

Your bodies move in unison, your ragged breaths become one as you both tip toward the edge. With one more thrust, with one more rub of your clits, your bodies tense. Your mouth opens in a silent scream of pleasure while Mizu lets out a wavering cry.

The movement of your hips slows to a stop and you fall in a heap over Mizu’s body. Tiredly you kiss the sweat-dampened skin of his chest, and he shivers. “Thank you.” You mummer one last time. 

Mizu’s hands hold you close, one in your hair, the other flat across your back. “You don’t have to keep thanking me.” 

“I know,”  you look up into his eyes, “but I want to.”

He keeps eye contact as he wipes the hair from your face. “I appreciate this… I haven’t felt this way in a long while.” 

It’s an intimate moment, one of understanding without having to speak. So, you rest your head and close your eyes, too warn out to redress and too tired to move. Mizu also doesn't move to push you away, you take that as a sign that whatever this is, it has a very good chance of happening again. 

[milkteamoon]

The first and only girl Martin goes out with is openly bisexual.

He doesn't know if she counts, if he's being honest — it wasn't a crush, he knows that, and years down the line, when he thinks back to it, he can't remember them ever having a proper conversation about the whole status of their single-night relationship. He knows she had short hair, and sat in front of him in math class, and needed a date to the fall semi-formal so she'd asked if he was busy that weekend, and he'd said no, and then she'd asked if she could borrow a pen, and he'd said yes. He couldn't remember her name if he tried.

He does remember the pink and blue bracelet on her wrist that she'd worn to the event itself, and then to get ice cream after, where he'd sat on the curb of some old parking lot at the edge of town with her and her friends and her friends' boyfriends and her friends' boyfriends' friends, none of which were his friends, because Martin didn't have many of those. Except maybe the girl whose name he couldn't remember. Though he's not sure if maybe-probably-not-girlfriends count as friends too when you're in high school.

"D'you like it?" she'd asked once she'd noticed him staring, holding up her wrist and not seeming to care as ice cream dribbled down her spoon and fingers.

"It's nice," Martin had said, because he's nothing if not honest. "Did you make it?"

She'd nodded. "It's a bi flag," she'd explained. "I'm bisexual."

"Oh," Martin had said.

"You know what that is, right?" she had asked. "Like, when you like boys and girls?"

"I know," Martin had said, even if it had maybe slipped his memory until she'd brought it up. "That's cool."

And then she'd nodded, and ate her ice cream, and Martin had taken her home with as little a fanfare as he had picked her up earlier that evening. And then winter break had rolled around, and she'd been put in another class the following semester, and then life and bills had finally caught up with him and there wouldn't be another semester after that. He'd never seen her again, so he'd never got a chance to ask. Never got a chance to choke down that knot in his throat when he'd left her house that evening, unable to get the words out.

He doesn't remember her name anymore, but he does remember the jealous ache he'd felt at her certainty.

Martin's first boyfriend is definitely gay.

That's how they meet each other, really — in a gay bar, where Martin has met plenty of other men (testing the waters, he's been telling himself; no harm in a little exploration) and gone home with them, except this one asks for his number afterward, and this one calls him back, and this one actually seems to want to go out for drinks the next week, and the week after that, and before Martin knows it he's quite certain that he's dating this man. It's wonderful, whirlwind of an experience. It's exhilarating.

It's bloody terrifying.

And it's not being with a man that sets his anxiety on edge. Martin...Martin likes men. That's definitely a part of his identity that he's been able to sort out, over the years. Martin likes men, and he likes dating men, and he likes having sex with men, and he'd probably even marry a man, if he had the chance, if that's where one of these loose and languid relationships end up.

It's just—

It's just that—

It's just that Martin always seems to be the odd one out in these groups. It's just that when Martin meets up with his boyfriend's friends at the bar, when they're all laughing and sharing jokes and clinking their drinks together in some toast that Martin had missed the dedication to, they all just...get it somehow. They know who they are. They all have some special word for themselves that fits them like a tailored suit: Jacklyn is a butch lesbian, and Lee is trans, and Tom is a bear, and Jordan is gay and genderqueer and Collin is a drag performer and—

He's a few drinks in, to put it lightly, when he leans over to his definitely-boyfriend and asks him how he knew he was gay.

"How did I know?" he echoes, taking a sip from his fizzy drink. "Easy, I liked men." And then he laughs like Martin has just told a funny joke, and maybe he has and doesn't realize it, so he tries to laugh along. Tries to ignore the ache in his chest.

Martin wishes it were that simple. And when the two of them break up, Martin wishes that he ached just as badly over the relationship too.

Tim and Sasha are bi. Well, no, Tim is bi, and Sasha is—

"Pansexual," Sasha says through a mouthful of reheated spaghetti. She holds a finger up as she chews, swallows, and then adds, "Well, I mean. It's like the same genus, I guess."

"Like a leopard and a cheetah," Tim chimes in, leaning over to put an arm around her shoulders. She puts a hand against the side of his face to put some space between them, knocking his glasses askew.

"Leopards and cheetahs are different genuses," she tells him. "You're thinking of leopards and jaguars."

"Nuh uh."

"Uh huh."

"Nuh uh nuh uh—"

"Uh huh uh huh uh huh—"

And it's—

He likes Tim and Sasha. They're easy to exist around. They don't make him feel like he's not welcome at the end of the lunch table, or like he has to be anything more than simply himself in their presence. Call it bonding over the shared trauma of all being trapped down here together. Tim's jokes about Jon never letting them see the sun are starting to feel less like jokes these days, and more like statements of fact.

Then Tim leans over, seating his chin in his knuckles, and says, "So, Martin, you going to pride this year?"

And then all of those nice, floaty feelings suddenly come crashing out of solution and dropping down into the pit of his stomach. It must show on his face, because Tim's smile falls as he backpedals.

"O-or not!" he says, holding his hands up peaceably. "I mean— geez, sorry, I usually think I'm pretty good at noticing these things, but if you're not—"

"What? Oh, no no, you're fine, I'm definitely—" There's something on the tip of Martin's tongue that he can't put a word to, hasn't been able to put a word to for a long time. "...not straight. Er, I— I like...guys, at least...?"

A smile curls across Tim's face — amused, but not cruel. "Hey, that's at least one thing we've got in common," he says and holds up his fist for a bump. The spark of anxiety hasn't quite fizzled away, but it's pushed far enough down that Martin feels he can humor him.

To his equal relief and horror, Jon strolls into the room not a minute later and sticks himself firmly in the crosshairs of Tim's sights.

"Boss-man," he greets.

"Tim," Jon greets back, neutrally. He strolls over to the kitchenette, digging out a tea bag out of the cabinet.

"Are you going to pride this year?"

Martin chokes on his drink.

"No," Jon says, retrieving a tea bag and filling his mug as if Tim had simply asked him about the weather.

"C'mon," Tim purrs. He reaches over and gives Jon a tug by his belt loops. "You're just gonna sit at home all weekend and leave us to have all the fun?"

"I don't particularly find crowds 'fun,'" Jon retorts, batting away his hand. He picks up his mug. "You'll have to suffer without me."

"How will we ever go on," Tim laments.

"You'll manage," Jon says, then promptly retreats to his office.

Martin simply sits there with his mouth hanging open, only daring to speak once he hears the final click of the door pulled shut. "...Jon...?"

Tim looks over to him, eyebrow quirked. "What?"

"Jon."

"Oh." A smirk tugs at the corner of Tim's lips. "You didn't know?"

"Wh— no!" It's not even that Martin has ever really assumed that Jon is straight. It's just that, out of people in the office to be open about their sexualities, there's Tim and Sasha, and then there's Jon. It's just— it's Jon. "Did he tell you that?"

Tim shoots a look to Sasha. "Well, no," he admits, "but you know how it is, you work with someone long enough and you just sort of...get a vibe, yeah?"

Sasha nods at this assessment. "Plus the fact that he did agree to go on a date with David that one time."

"Oh god, haha! I forgot about that."

"He's gay, right?" Sasha says, looking to Tim.

"I'm pretty sure he mentioned an ex-girlfriend once," Tim notes, poking his fork into his salad. "Bi, maybe...? I'm going to go with bi."

"Could also be pan," Sasha notes.

Tim thinks on this for a moment. "Mm, no, definitely bi I think. My bi-dey senses are tingling. Sorry Sash," he concludes, earning him a light kick to the shin from Sasha at the pun. He shoves a forkful of salad in his mouth before redirecting his attention back to Martin. "So, Martin. Pride, yay or nay?"

"Uh—" Martin blinks, viscerally aware of himself once more. He's not sure how to put I've never really thought about going into so many words that doesn't make him sound incredibly lame or formerly catholic, so in the end he decides on a redirect. He clears his throat. "I'm...not sure? Haven't really decided."

"That's fine," Tim says with a half shrug. "Though we'll be there, so if you do end up going, just text us and we'll meet up, yeah?"

There's a little plant inside Martin, something green and budding, but never able to bloom — always pruned too early, or watered too late, or bitten off by the frost. But some days, he thinks about opening the curtains and letting in the sun. Some days, he thinks about letting it bloom, finally, fully—

"Yeah," Martin says softly, looking up from his open palms. "Yeah, that'd...that'd be good."

And despite himself, he smiles.

Martin is—

Martin is quite certain he has never been sweatier in his life.

It's a wonderful time. It's bright. It's beautiful. He's seen so many colors and grins and glitter on more people than he can count today. People holding hands and people kissing and people dressed in outfits he can't even begin to describe, genders he can't even begin to put names to, flags he can't even begin to guess the meaning of. His heart feels so big in his chest he could die, pushing on the bars of his rib cage with each resounding thu-thump, and it's wonderful, wonderful, wonderful—

(And so very isolating. So very lonely when he feels like he's not meant to be there, like he wasn't invited, like he's invading this space carved out in neat rows of labels that he can't even straddle properly to get in line. He doesn't— he can't—)

Martin finds a moment of shade just as he feels he's teetering on the edge of heat exhaustion. He stumbles under the awning, smearing the sweat and residual glitter out of his eyes as he leans his head back against the wall. Music hums from the street over, voices carry on the warm summer air. He really needs to find something to drink, so he can appreciate it more instead of focusing on the way his shirt clings to his skin. He really should find Tim and Sasha, before they get off into any trouble.

Someone lets out a huff next to him as they lean back against the wall, and Martin peels open an eye to look.

And then both his eyes snap open at once, double taking at the man standing next to him. He doesn't seem to notice him at first, too focused on fanning himself with some pamplet he'd snagged along the way, but then his gaze shifts sideways, and the pinched expression smooths out into one of blank bewilderment.

Jon blinks, wide eyed. "Martin."

Okay, well that at least solves the issue of whether or not Martin is supposed to be pretending not to know him or not. He clears his throat, trying to smile. "Jon...h-hi."

It's not even the fact that— okay, well, yes, seeing Jon at a queer event is pretty weird, but seeing Jon outside of work, in jeans no less, is certainly not helping the sensation that Martin might very well be hallucinating this interaction. He looks him up to his thick-lensed glasses, down to his plain sneakers that have seen better days, and even pinches himself for good measure. Jon doesn't move. Martin isn't sure that he himself would be able to move either, even if he wanted to.

Then Jon's brow furrows, and he looks around. "Are Tim and Sasha around...?"

"Oh, n-no, they went off," Martin gestures vaguely in the direction he'd last seen them, "somewhere."

"Ah."

"Mm."

"Right."

"...What...are you doing here, exactly?" Martin finally asks in some burst of unsourced courage.

Jon's winces, red-handed. Not that Martin would ever say anything to Tim or Sasha about their boss going to pride without them on his own time — it's honestly none of his business — but he also knows that if the two of them suspect something is up, they'll never let either of them live it down.

Jon sighs, shoulders drooping. "I...an old friend, she— she didn't wish to come alone this year, and apparently I'm the only other queer she knows that doesn't enjoy getting plastered off my arse at these types of events, so—" Jon shrugs lightly.

There's something about the way Jon says it, the only other queer, that leaves a funny, prickling sensation in the center of Martin's chest, and it's not just the heat giving him a rash. It's just...it's nice. It's nice the way he says it, all casual like he's just giving Martin another report to follow up.

Jon pushes the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, giving Martin a sideways glance up and down. He redirects, "You know, I would have thought you'd be more, er..."

"More...?"

"...Well, dressed up, I suppose?" He gestures to Martin's outfit — a pair of khaki shorts with pockets stuffed to the brim in emergency snacks, a green t-shirt with the local football team logo, an old pair of sneakers he really needs to replace — in a vague enough gesture to slip just under the line of insulting, but still enough to make Martin feel horribly seen. Granted, Jon isn't much better in his plain blue polo, but the fact of Jon being in jeans at all is currently eclipsing the fact that he's a tad underdressed for the event.

But—

But it's not that Martin doesn't want to. It's not that Martin doesn't want to be a part of this moment, this moment, this microcosm in the middle of London of so many people like him. It's something he's always wanted. Something he's always dreamed of, something he'd thought about all the way back in his high school bedroom when he'd had all these feelings knotted up in his chest that he couldn't put a word to, still can't put a word to, doesn't know how to put a word to even though it's right there in front of him if he could just stretch out his fingers—

"I thought about it," he admits with a shrug. Tim and Sasha were each dressed in a blinding shower of color and glitter, and he knows they'd never make him feel out of place. "It's just...there's too many—" He stops, takes a deep breath, and tries to ignore the thumping of his heartbeat in his ears. "There's too many words, I guess?"

Jon pauses his lazy fanning, looking up at him. "Too many words?" he parrots.

Martin wets his lips. "Like— like— like, everyone has a word for themselves, y'know? They have a flag, they have a group, they have— have people that they can relate to, and then you feel like you find something that almost right, but it's not perfect, and you— you—"

And you don't fit in, Martin doesn't say, because the rushing stream of words has suddenly stopped up in his throat, choking him. And you definitely aren't straight, but you aren't queer like everyone else is. You aren't queer in the right way.

Jon looks at him for a considerable moment, and suddenly Martin is all too aware of his body, his bones, his sweat, the itchy prickling of his skin—

Jon sighs as he gives him a half shrug. "So don't be anything."

The music from the street over lulls into a faint hum.

"What?" Martin says.

"So don't be anything," Jon repeats, enunciating as if he thinks that Martin misheard him. He frowns as he chooses his next words. "I'm not...it's...I..."

Martin waits quietly.

"I..." Jon says, "I guess when I was just starting to— to figure things out, I was certain I was gay. And then I went to uni and I had...a multitude of other things to address, and then for a bit I was...straight? I guess? And that was a whole thing, and then I was bi, and— well, I guess I'm technically still bi, but it's not...not exactly correct—" He frowns, looking up at him. "I guess...it just doesn't really matter to me? You don't...have to be anything."

Martin opens his mouth. He closes it. "But—" he says, tongue feeling thick in his mouth, "but—"

But then I have to be me, he doesn't say, even if the words are trying to push out past his teeth. But then the only thing I can be is me.

"...But that's scary," Martin says without meaning to, only hearing the words as they pass through his own lips. His eyes blow wide as he looks down at Jon (at his boss), and knows the simmering heat flushing down to his chest has nothing to do with the weather.

Jon stares at him for a quiet, considerate. And then he turns his head away and lets out a very undignified snort.

Martin feels his world tip onto its side.

It had to be a snort. It can only be a snort, even if Jon doesn't snort because Jon doesn't laugh, and Jon doesn't laugh because Jon doesn't smile, and Jon doesn't smile because Jon is typically too busy snapping at him over some stupid mistake he's made for the umpteenth time—

Jon looks up at him again, and he's downright grinning. Martin is quite certain he needs to be doused over the head with a bucket of ice water, or pinched hard enough to draw blood, or sent off to the hospital to get his head checked out because what the fuck. What the fuck.

"As my grandmother was so fond of reminding me, 'if it weren't scary, everyone would be doing it,'" Jon says finally, peeling off his glasses to wipe the sweat from the lenses onto his shirt. He places them back on his nose, then pushes himself up. "You should find Tim and Sasha," he says. "And I should find Georgie before I get left here. Again."

"Uh," Martin says, still trying to mentally recover from the fact that Jon smiled at him, and now everything feels like its been knocked into an alternate universe slightly to the left. His head feels weird. His chest feels weird. "Right."

"There's a—" Jon points a thumb behind himself, "a place we can cut through, if you want to—"

"Oh. Oh, yeah! Yeah, lead— lead the way."

It's not perfect, Martin thinks.

It's not perfect, but it's close. It's close when they step out of the alley back onto that crowded street, when the colors all bleed into a mess of a million different rainbows as far as the eye can see. It's close when they both get sprayed with glitter, Jon scowling and swearing as he tries to get it off himself and sending Martin laughing so hard that his sides ache. It's close even with the heat, even with the noise, even with the shouting because there's laughter in between laughter in between laughter again—

"Would you like a button?" a girl with green hair asks as she sits behind a table of every flag Martin has ever seen and then some. He takes a moment to look over each one carefully. Jon wanders up beside him, looks them through, and carefully selects a pink, purple, and blue one, to which he silently deposits in his pocket.

Martin picks up a plain rainbow one, considers it, and then pins it to the left side of his shirt.

It's not perfect, he thinks, but it's close enough.

[shina913]

Code Blue | KMG

Code Blue

Pairing: PFWeek!Mingyu x Stylist!Fem Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Idol au; hints of FWB; fluff; angst; smut

Warnings: porn with a hint of plot; cussing; fingering; clit play; breast play; oral (F-rcvng); penetrative, unprotected sex; creampie; soft aftercare

Word count: 3.8K words

Summary: Mingyu doesn't want any other stylist--he only wants you.

A/N: The story was prompted by this video clip and title is from The-Dream's song of the same title. I only meant for this to be something quick but the clown car stopped by my house--it was headed to Deluluville so I just got on, ofc. Nothing but horny word vomit featuring Dior/PFW Mingyu. Tiny bit of angst brought on by the song, and also because I'm me, and why the hell not? Enjoy!

It’s fashion week and by some wild coincidence, many of your A-list celebrities are in town and they all have scheduled appearances at the big-ticket shows. Unfortunately, due to the location of a few shows and heavy traffic, you can't personally manage everyone's looks. So, you rely on your trusted assistants to cater to everyone's preferences, under your guidance, of course.

One of the clients you couldn't personally attend to was Mingyu. He called you, disappointed, when he saw your assistant, Monica, standing at his hotel room door with a clothing rack to present him with outfit options for tomorrow's show.

“Why did you send your minion here? I thought you were coming?” You hear the pout in his lowered voice.

“I'm at a fitting with another client at their hotel, and it's running late,” you whisper into the phone, then motion to an intern to approve your client's accessories. “Also, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call her that. She's my second-in-command, and I trust her judgment. I can't be everywhere at once, so some compromises had to be made.”

Mingyu’s debut appearance at a major fashion show was a big deal for him and his career. Since his appearance was announced, you prepared accordingly, discussing options based on the fashion house's lookbook. Having worked closely with Mingyu for over a year, you're well-versed in his style preferences. Before he left for Paris, you had shortlisted two outfit options, which is why you felt confident leaving Monica in charge.

“So, I’m the one compromised? I heard you’re dressing a couple of people for Chanel and another one for Saint Laurent. You can’t do that for me?” He huffs out.

You hiss through gritted teeth and excuse yourself to take the rest of your call in the bathroom. “There’s no need to be childish! Those two shows are right next to each other, while yours is across town. I can’t reach you in that short timeframe. Have you seen the traffic?”

He eventually concedes, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I was just…hoping to see you since we're both in town. I thought that maybe we could grab dinner tonight at that restaurant we went to last time?”

You sigh, wishing it could be that simple. Instead of responding to his invitation, you run through tomorrow’s schedule. “I have another fitting tomorrow afternoon and a meeting after that. Olivier is also hosting a party tomorrow night after the Balmain show, so I don’t know—”

“I can meet you after your last event, just tell me where.”

“You can’t just show up randomly. There’s going to be other designers and stylists. You might feel out of place since you won’t know anybody,” you reason.

“You can always introduce me,” he suggests.

“As what?”

He’s silent for a few beats then says, “Your client?”

You chuckle, feeling a hint of embarrassment due to your presumptions. You've never clarified the nature of your relationship. Since you’re part of his team’s regular stylists, you have to stay professional, especially around staff and his other teammates. Occasionally, when he can steal a quiet moment, he whispers what he'd like to do when he gets you alone.

“Gyu—”

“Please? I miss you,” he pleads quietly.

Apart from the occasional sexy video calls, you haven't seen each other in over a month due to your busy work schedules. As much as you try to convince yourself that you don’t feel the same, hearing the need in his voice makes your chest twinge.

You open your mouth to answer but a knock on the bathroom door startles you. It’s the intern, telling you that your client needs your opinion on shoes.

You sigh, cursing under your breath. “I have to go. Just trust Monica, okay?”

You didn't wait for him to respond before you hung up. You didn't want to hear the disappointment in his voice. You wished you could leave all the work to your staff and head off to dinner with Mingyu, then go to bed with him. But there were too many eyes on Paris this week, especially on him.

This wasn’t like one of your clandestine meetings. He was more recognizable now, which meant photos could be snapped of you and him anywhere. When that happens, it’ll be all over.

After that call, you didn't hear from him for the rest of the night.

********

“So, how did you pick your outfit today?”

The question, posed by one of many journalists in the bustling press line of the fashion show’s venue, brings a warm smile to Mingyu's face.

“This outfit?” He took a moment before responding, his eyes had a hint of nostalgia as he revisited the process that eventually led up to the ensemble he was dressed in.

“Ah, well. My team put it together!” His response elicits laughter from both the photographers and the journalist.

“No, but seriously, I like clean, timeless looks with hints of detail and different textures to keep it interesting. My stylist knows me very well, and she has a great eye.” He finishes with that million-dollar smile of his, leaving the journalist flustered.

“Well,” the journalist says, “Sounds like someone out there deserves a nice bonus.”

“Oh, I agree!” He looks straight into the camera and gives a subtle wink at it right before the clip ends.

You chuckle and shake your head at your phone, swiping away to close out of full-screen mode.

Earlier this morning, he texted you a photo of his final look. He had chosen the blue suit and bejeweled button-down shirt, the ensemble you put together, and hoped he would go for. His choice delighted you, despite how sour your phone call ended last night.

You sent a text to Monica, thanking her for the link to Mingyu's interview clip and complimenting her on her first solo styling job.

She responded, saying that you did 90% of the work. She merely pulled together what made sense, and you approved.

You laugh. She's right, but she would at least get credit in the magazines and fashion blogs where Mingyu's photos would appear.

********

It was well past midnight when you got out of the limo with a couple of colleagues and walked into the hotel lobby, coming back from an after-party when your phone rang. You fish it out of your pocket and drunkenly squint your eyes at the caller ID.

It was Mingyu. You slide across your screen to answer it.

“Hey. Where are you?” His voice was gruff, like he had just woken up or maybe had a few drinks.

“I just got in from Olivier’s party.”

“Mm, how was that?”

“Good. We had fun. Nice way to cap off fashion week.”

He hums in response. “Are you back in your room?”

“Not yet but I’m heading up there soon. What’s up?” You step into the elevator and punch your floor number.

He sighs softly on the other line. “Nothing. Just wanted to make sure that you were back safe.”

“Uh-huh,” you say skeptically.

The elevator dings and stops at your floor. You step out and follow the hallway toward your room. “Why don't you tell me what's really going on?”

As you look ahead, you slow down upon seeing someone leaning against your doorway. How did he even… you stop that thought right away, not wanting to know all the details.

“I was hoping to say goodnight to you,” he says into the phone as you stop in front of him.

You glance at your watch and tell him, “But it’s already 2 in the morning.”

“So, good morning then?” he smirked. Then, his eyes rake you from head to toe. “You look nice.”

Judging by what you recall from your reflection in the elevator's mirror, you knew you were anything but. “Thanks. You look…clean.”

He was showered, barefaced, and dressed in sweats, his hair sticking out in every direction. Now this was the version of Mingyu you were used to seeing in private.

“Can I put you to bed?”

You bit your lip as he moved in closer. The thought was tempting, but you were aware that other staff members were staying on the same floor. But it was also late, and they were likely asleep. Perhaps a little nightcap wouldn't be too bad.

Before you can answer, you freeze when the door across the hall opens. Monica pops her head out, her sleep mask perched atop her head. “Oh, hey guys! I thought I heard voices. What are you doing here?” She directs her question at Mingyu.

“We were just talking,” he tells her with an innocent smile, relieved she didn't see him enter your room.

“Oh. Is everything okay?” She looks worried, assuming that Mingyu is there to tell you that she did an awful job, despite reassuring her that she did great filling in for you.

“All good! He and I just ran into each other in the lobby and started discussing an upcoming shoot,” you say apologetically.

“We'll try to keep it down,” Mingyu adds.

“No worries. I have a white noise machine,” Monica replies with a knowing smile. “You can be as loud as you want.”

Your mouth falls open as she casually turns back into her room and closes the door. 

Mingyu suppresses a laugh. “You think she knows?”

You smack him on the chest and roll your eyes, making him giggle some more.

“You're lucky I pay her well,” you say, reaching into your purse for your key card. You swipe it on the door sensor and step inside while he's still laughing. “Are you coming in or not?”

He laughs even harder, but he follows you right in.

********

“Did you like Monica’s picks?” you call out from the bathroom, as you finish up your skincare routine.

“You mean what you picked?” he retorts.

“I wasn't even there! That was all her.”

“He snorts at your comment. “You think she pulled those pieces all on her own without your sign-off?” He snacks on a few pomme frites that he ordered from room service during your quick shower.

“I've been training her for a couple of years. She deserves some credit,” you reply as you reenter the room in an oversized shirt, walking towards him on the couch, and taking some fries. 

“I mean, she's good, but she doesn't know me that well.” He pauses to watch you settle next to him. “You do, though.”

“Then let her get to know you! Help her out a little.” You suggest, barely looking up from your phone.

“You mean the way I got to know you? Is that what you want?” 

You tense up and purse your lips. However, considering you have no claim on Mingyu, you have no right to feel upset.

“I'm just saying—I can't always be where you need me to be and…you’re free to do what you want.” You clear your throat, attempting to sound nonchalant.

He lets out a sigh, pulling your phone down to get your attention. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want anybody else to get to know me.”

You could hear the yearning in his voice, something you didn’t quite expect.

After years in the industry, you told yourself you’d never get involved with a client. And then Mingyu came along. People were naturally drawn to him, and even you weren’t immune to his charms. He was always sweet, and you assumed he treated everyone who worked for him the same way. It wasn’t until after an overseas photoshoot followed by celebratory drinks with him and his staff, that you let your guard down.

What you initially saw as a one-time slip-up gradually became a series of encounters, each growing more intimate than the last. But you couldn’t stay in that mindset. You couldn’t get your hopes up, especially with someone as famous as he was. Not only was it bad for business but it was bad for you.

“I’m not playing games.”

“Neither am I.” He says evenly. “The fact is, I want you and I’m tired of sharing you with other people.”

You scoff at his audacious remark. “Look, it’s my job—”

He shakes his head and interjects. “You know what I mean. I want to make things official…with you. Just you.”

You sigh. “You know that we can’t.” Even though everything in you wants to scream yes.

“You can’t or won’t?”

“I know that you can't,” you counter. He's just too... public. Not only are you concerned about your reputation, but you're mostly worried about the backlash if his fans ever find out about you and him. The stakes are higher for him.

“That’s not true. It’s not like I’m a prisoner.” 

You chuckle humorlessly, as if he doesn’t see how this won’t end well for either of you. “I know how this business works, okay?”

“You think I don’t know that either? I just want us to try. I feel that there’s something more between us. And I know you feel it, too.” He reaches out and rests his hand on your bare knee.

Your skin tingles with the warmth of his touch. It’s been too long since you last felt it, and you’re ashamed to admit how much you missed it. Craved it, even.

You stare at his hand, now snaking past the hem of your shirt. “There are a million reasons why we shouldn’t do this.”

“Then let’s do it for the reasons that we should,” he retorts, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You quickly realize that was a big mistake.

His eyes quietly pleaded, causing the knot in your stomach to tighten. Things weren't going to be easy. A million questions swirled in your head, but he quieted all except one as his face drew closer.

“How would we even do this?” You ask softly.

“Let me worry about that. I just need you to tell me that you want the same thing.”

Your hand lifts to his neck, fingers grazing his jawline, then up his cheek. He sighs softly, melting under your touch.

After a few beats, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You know, part of me feels like I’m letting you off easy. Maybe I should let you work for it a little?”

A smile ghosted his lips. He lowered his head, his voice deep and sexy. “I’ll work for it now.”

Even though you see the kiss coming, it still knocks you out. Mingyu’s lips meet yours, his tongue stroking greedily into your mouth. “C’mere,” he says roughly before urging you onto his lap.

Your phone rings, but you silence it quickly before chucking it, not caring where it lands. You tangle your fingers in Mingyu's hair, holding his head while you kiss him ardently. God, you love kissing him. The feel of his lips and the rough sounds of pleasure he makes are music to your ears. He’s ravenous for you, just as you are for him. He catches one of your wrists and pulls your hand over his chest, pressing it flat so you can feel his heart pounding.

“This all you,” he breathes against your mouth.

And with that, your walls come down. You’re done for.

You tear at each other’s clothing, yanking off each other’s shirts. You’re desperate to feel him, your lips and teeth catching every inch of his golden skin. At this point, you don’t care if other staff hear you throughout this floor.

He urges you backward until you feel the armrest of the couch behind you. Kissing you deeply, he cups one of your breasts in his hand, kneading it before pushing the bra cup down to touch your bare skin.

You fumble with the drawstring of his pants, whilst palming him through the material, feeling how hard he already is. You growl in frustration when he pulls your hands away.

He shakes his head and tuts. “You first.” Clever fingers circle your nipple and roll it, sending shocks of delight straight to your core.

The next moment, that mouth you love to kiss is on your breast, surrounding your tender nipple. His tongue flicks at the tip, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks. His other hand is between your legs, rubbing your aching cleft through your panties, teasing you even more by grinding his length against your thigh.

His scent surrounds you, just as his hands and mouth are all over you. You want some control, but he’s too strong, too quick, sliding lower before you can catch him.

He keeps his gaze on you as he tugs your panties down your legs. Your center clenches at how much that turns you on.

You sit up slightly to unclasp your bra, tossing it while Mingyu scoots back, lifting his hips to shove his sweats and boxer briefs out of the way. 

In an instant, he’s on you again–too impatient to strip all the way naked. He pins your hips down, urging your thighs further apart while he lines himself up to your center, and slowly pushes in. Lowering his head, he groans right in your ear, feeling how tight you are for him. 

You pant as he burrows deeper. Your nails dig into his back and your legs tighten around his waist. You’re wetter by the moment, rendered helpless by the way his hips move, his body mindlessly seeking a deeper connection to yours.

You gasp when he slides in deeper, your hips fighting his hold, needing to arch upward.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, pulling back an inch and thrusting again.

He pulls out abruptly, leaving you empty and aching, but not for long. His mouth is there between your legs, licking, sucking on your clit, and fluttering over the bundle of nerves. Your hands fist at the cushions, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You went from zero to sixty so fast that your orgasm takes you by surprise.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out.

Shivers of pleasure course through you as you suck in air. He keeps your legs spread wide with his shoulders, holding you in place, as he slips two fingers inside.  He moves them in and out slowly, circling your clit in between. He teases you a few more times, edging you, making you desperate for his cock.

The instant he shifts to slide over you again, you seize the moment to push him to the other end of the couch. He doesn’t put up a fight as you move to straddle his hips. He simply leans back, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed from arousal, waiting for your next move.

You reach for his cock under you, fisting it slowly. He fights to keep his eyes open but the pleasure you give him feels too good. His chest heaves and he lets out a drawn-out groan. 

Fuck, he was hot. And the way his hands grip your hips tightly as you position him to your center drives you insane with the need to ride him hard.

You slide the tip between your folds, coating him with your slick before your hips sink in one swift move. Your mouths fall open when your ass hits the tops of his thighs, both of you relishing in the sensation. You rest your hands on his shoulders for leverage and roll your hips toward him slowly. His neck arches, letting out a groan of pleasure between clenched teeth.

His hands reach up to cup your breasts, palming them, and pinching your nipples, making you hiss at the perfect combination of pain and pleasure. “Ah…Mingyu...fuck, yes…”

Once you find your rhythm, he thrusts upward, meeting your hips. You push your fingers into his hair, cupping the back of his head to hold him close.

He nuzzles against your temple. “You want this?”

Your nodding wasn’t enough for him.

“Say it.”

So you say it loud and clear for him. “Yes, I want this. I want you.” 

With a shift of his hips, the tip of his cock notches into your opening. Pressure builds as he fucks into you. Slow, easy thrusts that work him into you with every lunge. Your entire body tenses, as he sinks deep into your core. You feel yourself inch closer and closer to your climax.

Your grip on him tightens, and you grind your hips, matching his every move to direct him into where it feels good.

“Kiss me,” you gasp.

Soon after his mouth makes contact with yours, your body surrenders to him. Tears sting your eyes when the tension in you breaks, and you come harder than you did the first time.

The pulsing only deepens as Mingyu continues to pound into you, chasing his own climax. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he finally reaches it, tethering his orgasm to yours.

It's one of the most intense sensations you've ever felt. Despite your body's natural instinct to pull away, your mind resists. The steady thrum of your heartbeat soothes you, and you stay there, quietly relishing the comfort in each other's arms.

********

Reluctantly, you take a second shower, with him doing most of the work cleaning you up. Afterwards, you crawl into bed. You watch him, carefully tucking you in, mildly annoyed that he can move and think clearly while you're still stuck in a post-orgasmic haze.

When he finally flops into bed beside you, you turn to face him. “How are you still moving around?”

He props his head in his hand and grins, his fingers running lightly down your cleavage. “Did you forget the ten minutes it took me to get up?”

“I’m making sure you’re down for the count next time,” you pout playfully.

“Hmm...” Leaning over you, he presses his lips to yours. “I’m just happy there’s a next time.”

You nod, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Lots of next times.”

Reaching up, you brush his hair back from his forehead. His post-sex look is even more breathtaking. His face is softer, his eyes are brighter, and that smile… you sigh deeply. He looks so happy that it twists your heart to think that you had a hand in that without even really trying. Yet, this also worries you, knowing it would be devastating if that smile ever faded.

“I’m scared, you know,” you confess.

He lifts your hand and presses his lips to it. A few moments of silence pass before he replies, “Yeah. Me too.” You don’t even want to think about how the staff will react when they see him walk out of your room in a few hours.

His facial expression tenses, and you immediately regret bringing it up. You pull him closer, holding him tightly as a silent apology.

“Can we agree not to bring anything but us into bed?” he murmurs, running his nose along your cheek before pulling away slightly to look at you. “I just want us to have some place where nothing else matters but you and me.”

“Okay.” You nod, your hands stroking up and down his back. Burying your face in his chest, you breathe in, letting the familiar scent of his skin ground you in the moment.

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Before The Darkness

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 3.7K

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: established relationships, old friends to friends mafia au, purge au, first kiss, i love you, betrayal, fluff ending,

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

The sun filtered through the curtains of your living room giving it a warm but uneasy glow of everything. You knelt on the floor trying to pack everything you were going to need for the next day or so into one suitcase and Yoongi looked at you with a saddened expression. This year he'd gotten to you earlier than he ever usually did, it was almost 5 in the morning when he decided to come and get you ready to come to his place.

The purge didn't even start until tomorrow at 7pm but you figured Yoongi was just deciding to be a little more cautious with time this year since people got a little wacky in the lead-up to the event.

"Is Cassandra going to be there this time?" You knew his live-in cook probably wanted to be with her family during the purge this year but you'd grown close with her over the years of this happening. The two of you had formed a strong friendship since it would usually be the two of you locked up inside of the house with nothing much to do except talk. Yoongi would always make sure he looked you up in his place since it was like a fortress.

Not to mention no one really wanted to mess with Min Yoongi. The man who practically ran the underworld and everyone knew the name of, he was a household name at this point. His house was one of the safest places on the planet whenever the purge was going down, people begged to be taken there when the purge was happening and he tried to keep his men or his men's family there but there were only so many rooms he could use for them.

"You're not going to mine this year," He mumbled a little just low enough for you to hear him, peeking through your curtains to make sure there was no one outside. All morning he'd been a little more jittery than usual and it was strange to see him so on edge. Someone who you knew was never like that, someone who made things in the dark is scared of him.

Yoongi wasn't scared of anything. That you knew of and you knew everything about him. The two of you had grown up living right next door to each other. Hell, you were in love with him, not that you'd ever admit that to him.

"What are you talking about?" You laughed weakly hoping he was joking but there wasn't even a hint of a smile on Yoongi's face as he turned to look at you.

"It's not safe enough, you're going out of town." You stared at him as he explained it and he made his way over to you.

"But-" You tried to say it was the best place for you to be but he cut you off rather quickly,

"Are you packed?" It was now that you noticed that there were beads of sweat starting to form on his head and you nodded zipping up your case which was quickly taken by Yoongi and then grabbed your hand. You did your best to ignore the jolt of electricity that ran through your body as he did this and followed him outside.

Today he was in his armoured car and four men with guns surrounded it, looking in all directions which didn't make you relax as you realised he must have been hiding how bad it was going to be this year.

There had been rumours that this year was going to be bloodier than usual, that people were going over the top with everything. But that was just rumours. No one would ever dare go against Yoongi, right?

"Yoongi, what's going on?" Your voice shook a little as you reached the car, your eyes lingering on the men who were all holding guns and still looking around as if they were waiting for a threat to come out of hiding.

"We have to go, I can't explain it here...Please," He opened the passenger door and you climbed in as he raced to do up your seatbelt for you. Your eyes landed on his hands and you noticed the slight tremor in them as he tried to help you.

"I can do it." You promised him but he continued to do it until you were strapped in, his eyes lingering on yours before the door slammed and he threw your bag into the back of the car. Silently getting into the driver's side and driving off without a word to you.

After about twenty minutes of driving in silence, you decided to break the ice and figure out what was going on inside of that head of his. It wasn't good for him to be in there alone too long and you knew that.

"Yoongi, you're scaring me. What's going on?" You looked out of the window to see four armoured cars following you, all of them his and your eyes went back to him.

His hands were clutching the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were turning white and he looked as though he was ready to kill someone. Something you'd seen many times since knowing Yoongi.

"It's not safe at mine, I'm taking you somewhere better, somewhere you'll be protected." His hand moved to the gearshift and you placed your hand on top of his trying to soothe him, even just a little.

"I'm always safe with you...you keep me safe." You whispered and he swallowed the lump in his throat. While that might have been true at one point or another it wasn't true now. Now he had no choice but to send you away, somewhere safe that no one would ever find you or know who you were.

"Yn, not this time." He shook his head, his eyes flicking to your hands and he linked your fingers together as he changed gears, keeping your hand with his the whole time.

"You're taking me across state lines, right? No one will know you, or me?" You looked at him as you realised what he was doing. If no one knew you, then you weren't going to be a bigger target.

"I already have a place set up, you trust me...right?" His eyes flicked to yours as he drove and you turned to look at him.

"Always, Yoongi." You nodded at him. Maybe it was wrong to follow him so blindly, to trust someone with his power but you did and you didn't care who knew it. The car fell into silence and you looked out of the window.

You were used to extended silences with him, it wasn't anything uncomfortable and you knew never to push him when he was in this kind of state.

The car's engine finally cut off, and the silence that followed was deafening, you stared around at the forest you were currently in. It was getting dark and you'd been on the road almost all day, your back hurt from sitting in the seat. You'd only made four stops on the whole drive and you dreaded to think how much pain Yoongi was in from driving for so long.

Yoongi stepped out of the car first he walked toward your side of the car and helped you out, taking your hand in his before you walked to the entrance of the underground safe house. His heart felt heavy, the weight of everything finally getting a bit too much for him but he knew he needed to do this for your own sake. He had built this place for moments like these—when the world was too dangerous for you when life was too uncertain. But nothing could prepare him for the storm brewing inside him now.

You looked around, trying to grasp the fact that this remote, hidden place was where you would stay for who knew how long since Yoongi hadn't even told you. You stared at Yoongi and you could feel it—his reluctance, the tension in his words during the drive over here.

"You're safe here," Yoongi said, his voice low and steady, as you both stepped inside the secure space. The door clicked shut behind them, locking out the world and you saw as electric deadbolts locked you both inside. It was almost like the ones in a bank vault, no one was getting through that door unless they owned a military-grade drill or laser - or they were Yoongi.

"No one knows about this place. No one can find you. You're safe." He repeated the words as if saying them were making them feel comforted by them instead of you. You stood there, staring at him, your heart pounding with questions that had no easy answers.

"But why here? Why so far away?" Your voice trembled, barely holding it together. He'd already told you it wasn't safe back home because there was a target but this felt too extreme for that.

"Yoongi, why are you hiding me out here? Please, just tell me." You looked at him and he looked over at you. He'd made a promise years ago to you that he would never hide anything from you.

He hesitated, looking down, trying to figure out how to explain it without crushing you completely.

"The Purge this year..." he began slowly, you nodded you'd heard the rumours of course you had.

"It's worse than before. Bloodier. It's not safe anywhere in the city. I had to take you away from it. Away from the threats, you're a walking target because of me. That house isn't safe but this is." You stared at him and nodded, shit you already knew but it still didn't feel like the whole truth. Not from him.

"But that’s not the full truth." You stepped closer to him, your eyes burning into his as you tried to figure it all out, to understand what he wasn’t saying to you.

"What aren’t you telling me, Yoongi?" His shoulders tensed, and he sighed heavily at you before pushing his hands through his hair.

You were always too smart, too perceptive and he knew he couldn’t hide from you, not now, not ever.

"There’s a war," he finally admitted, his voice flat and distant.

"A war with a rival gang that’s been brewing for a long time. It’s about to explode. And this time... I don’t know if I’ll make it out alive." The silence that followed was suffocating, you felt your heart drop out of your chest and into your stomach as you stared at him. It honestly felt as though someone had shot you. You stepped closer, your hands shaking as you reached for him, taking his hands in yours as you shook your head at him.

"No," You whispered, your voice cracking at the thought of never seeing him again. The two of you had always been together. The two of you were practically joined at the hip.

"No, you can’t leave me like this. You can’t go back there. Yoongi, please... stay here with me. Stay where it's safe," The desperation in your voice cut through him, your trembling hands gripping his jacket as if you could hold him in place, but you both knew you weren't strong enough for that.

"Don’t go," You pleaded, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes. There was no way he was just going to walk out on you, you wouldn't be able to live without him around.

"I have to go, my men need me, Yn." He reached out as he ran his hand over your cheek, wiping the tears out from under your thumb his heart shattering at the sight of you crying for him.

"Stay with me. I can’t lose you. I—" Your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes leaning into his touch as you began forcing the words out. The words you'd been holding in for years but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I love you, Yoongi. Please. Don’t go." Yoongi’s eyes softened at your confession. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race, and yet, his smile was weak, a touch of sadness pulling at the corners of his mouth.

he'd been waiting to hear those words from you for years and now he was getting them right before he was going to die?

"You always wait until the last minute," he murmured with a bittersweet smile, forcing out a laugh as he shook his head at you.

"Always late with the things I want to hear most."

"Promise me you'll stay!" You yell at him, shoving your hands on his chest as he huffed a little the air in his lungs being knocked a little.

"Yn-"

"Don't! If you love me you'll stay here!" You threatened him and he sighed at you. He had obligations to his men but he nodded at you. He pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours.

"Okay," he whispered, his voice cracking just a little.

"I’ll stay. I love you too, Yn." He whispers as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, your tears falling freely now.

"Promise me," You said softly, letting out a shakey breath as you watched him closely.

"Promise you won’t leave me. Not tonight." Yoongi nodded, his hand holding your waist in his grasp.

"I promise," he whispered into your ear, pressing a small kiss to your cheek as he nodded at you.

"I’ll stay with you." Relief washed over you, the tension in your body easing as you buried your face in his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around him.

"It's been a long day, sunshine. We should sleep," He told you as he took your hand in his, leading you through the base in the direction of one of the bedrooms. You took note of everything.

There was a huge living area with a TV and selection of movies, a kitchen big enough to host dinners for an army and then a number of bedrooms but Yoongi continued to walk you until he reached the main one.

It was huge, a king-sized bed in the centre of the room and your eyes flicked to the door that had ten different locks on it to keep people out.

You clung to him as if afraid he would disappear if you let go of him but you crawled onto the bed.

"Don't fight it," he laughed as he ran his hand over your cheek softly.

"You promise not to go, right?" you mumbled tiredly as you snuggled into him. Yoongi smiled weakly,

"I promise." He whispers back to you. Slowly, as the exhaustion of the day and the weight of your emotions caught up with you. Yoongi watched you as your breathing evened out, and you fell asleep in his arms.

Yoongi lay there in the dim light, watching your peaceful face, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back before his eyes flicked to the time, he could spend five more minutes with you.

When you woke up you whimpered a little, there was a cold chill thanks to the underground safe house. You turned over in the bed searching for Yoongi but your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach the moment you realized the space beside you was empty.

"Yoongi?" You called out, your voice trembling, but there was no answer only further pushing the theory that he'd left you after promising not to. You scrambled out of bed, stumbling toward the door, your feet carrying you through the silent hallways. Each step felt like you were sinking deeper into the darkness of uncertainty, and with every empty room you passed your dread grew.

"Yoongi!" You yelled again, desperation seeping into your voice as you reached the common area. There, seated casually at a table, was one of his men—stoic, calm, flipping through a newspaper as if nothing was amiss.

"Where is he?" You demanded, your voice edged with fear and frustration, you didn't give a fuck what his rank was with yoongi you wanted to know where he was after promising you he wasn't going to leave your side.

"Where is Yoongi?" The man looked up, his face unreadable, his eyes betraying nothing, not that any of his men did. He sighed and stood up slowly as if bracing himself for your reaction. Yoongi had given him strict instructions to let you know he was gone and that you weren't to leave.

"He’s gone," he said quietly. You blinked at his nonchalant attitude already pissing you off. Your mind began reeling as if you hadn’t heard him correctly.

"What do you mean, gone?" You whispered, the words barely making it past your throat as you shook your head at him. Yoongi promised he wouldn't go. He never broke his promises. Not to you.

"He promised me… he promised me he wouldn’t leave. He—" The man’s expression softened slightly, but he remained firm as he looked at you.

"He didn’t want you to worry," the man said suddenly making you scoff at him.

"He wanted to protect you." You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your tears angrily.

"Worry? All I'm going to do is worry!" Your voice splintered, the pain and frustration bubbling up uncontrollably. You felt betrayed, and abandoned—how could he leave you like that after everything?

Time passed in a haze, and as the week wore on, your fear twisted into anger at the thought of him leaving you and not saying a fucking word to you. You were terrified that he might be dead, that the war had taken him from you forever and you'd only just confessed to one another. And yet at the same time, you were furious at him for leaving you, for breaking his promise.

It had been a week and you had almost given up hope when you heard it—heavy footsteps echoing through the hallway. The commotion and stomping of more than one set of feet and you knew it wasn't just your own lonely guard.

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest, disbelief flooding you as you turned toward the door, shifting out of the covers and watching the door. The handle turned slowly, and the door creaked open.

There he was.

Yoongi stood in the doorway, covered in blood, his clothes torn and dirty. His hair was dishevelled, and bruises lined his pale skin, his lip was busted. He looked like he had been through hell, but there was a smirk tugging at his lips, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a gleam of mischief.

"I told you," he said, his voice gravelly and low.

"I'll never leave." For a moment, relief flooded through you so powerfully that you could hardly breathe. He was alive. He was here. But then the pain, the fear, and the anger came rushing back, overtaking the relief. Gripping the pillow beside you, you launched it in his direction but he swatted it away from his face.

"What the Yn?!" Your eyes narrowed, your fists clenched at your sides as you got out from the bed and stormed to stand in front of him.

"I hate you," You spat, her voice sharp and trembling.

"I hate you for breaking your promise. You swore you wouldn’t leave, Yoongi. You promised." Yoongi’s smirk faltered slightly as your words hit him. This whole time he thought you would have been happy to see him, he was happy to be back here, he hadn't thought about how much it would have hurt that he wasn't here for the last week.

He stepped closer to you, his expression softening, the exhaustion creeping into his eyes.

"Y/N," he started quietly, his voice gentle as he moved to cup your face in his hands but you moved away from him.

"I didn’t want to break that promise. But I had to end this. I had to make sure you were safe." You shook your head, your tears spilling over as you backed away from him, your anger masking the hurt that was tearing you apart on the inside.

"You don’t get it," You whispered, your voice cracking.

"You left me here for a week—alone, terrified that you were dead. I thought I’d lost you forever. I just fucking confessed my love and you were gone!"

"I know," he whispered, stepping closer, his hands reaching out to gently pull you into his arms. You resisted for a moment, your body tense, but when you felt his warmth, the fight slowly drained from you, and you crumbled against him, your tears soaking into his bloodstained jacket.

"I’m sorry," Yoongi murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he pressed his lips to the top of your head, his arms around you tightening as he brought you close. Both of you kneeling down on the floor.

"I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought this was the only way… I thought it would be over faster. But I was wrong." You sobbed against him, your fists weakly pounding against his chest before you let your arms wrap around him tightly.

"You can’t do that to me," You whispered through your tears.

"You can’t leave me like that. I need you, Yoongi." He nodded his head, his eyes closed, holding you tighter, his heart aching at the sound of your broken voice.

"I know," he whispered. "And I’m sorry. I won’t leave you again. I swear it." You pulled back slightly, your tear-streaked face gazing up at him.

"You better mean it, because I can’t go through that again." He cupped your face in his hands, brushing away the last of your tears with his thumbs and kissing your nose softly.

"I mean it," he whispered. "I’m here. I’m not going anywhere." He kissed your lips softly and nodded his head at you.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "And I’ll never leave again." You looked up at him, your heart finally calming, your lips curving into a small, tired smile.

"I love you too," you whispered. "Just… don’t make me say it after thinking you’re dead for a week, okay?" He chuckled softly, nodding as he kissed you again.

"Deal." He whispered before kissing you once again, bringing you into his arms and letting you ask him everything about what had happened in the week he'd been away from you.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

[yuri-is-online]

Thinking about the future kid au and Jamil!Yutu (help his tsum is so cute, i love the tsum events)

Like...you said Jamil! Yutu wishes he wasn't born so his dad wouldn't have been executed because some Asim relatives guilted him (desoite them being the ACTUAL reason he died)

Needless to say his relationship with his dad is complicated , but I can't stop thinking about Yutu being of two minds about his parents like "I'm gonna get in the way of your plans for the evening because I don't want either of you to get close and eventually die because of me" but also somehow everything he attempts doesn't work

Because Jamil isn't one to give up easily (none of the boys are) and he just- feels so much freer and happier than he ever has when he gets to trade snarky comments, silly puns and honest praise with Yuu. And he won't let this mysterious guy get ik the way of that, he pretends to enjoy his remaining years at NRC to the best of his ability thank you very much. Plus he's working on gaining his freedom and Yuu is his number one cheerleader at this don't tell Kalim tho he'll be sure to cranck up his enthusiasm if you do ofc he won't stop talking to them nor dreaming of what could be, it's all he has to avoid going mad

Yutu however is losing his mind because every time there's danger he gets reminded of his dad's corpse being dragged around and he keeps worrying this time his dad will die trying to protect Yuu from harm

Little does he know Jamil would rather give his life protecting Yuu than any Asim because that's his CHOICE and that's the person who chose HIM over everyone else. Cue Yutu recovering from the battle, looking around frantically for signs of either of his parents and seeing Yuu patching Jamil up, bantering lightly and sharing such soft looks. They look so happy despite their bruises and suddenly Yutu gets this nauseating feeling of dread because he can see why they fell in love, which means maybe he's too late to stop it now

And then Grim complains that he's hungry after the fight and they both share this look and Yutu gets the little sadness of "oh, this is what it would've been like"

Just- aaaaaaahhhhhhh this au is so good and so angsty but also I wanna add just a little bit of fluff for these poor boys (my original thought was of Yutu seeing his parents meeting in the town and following them to try to sabotage their not-date only to end up making each scenario more romantic until he gives up when they start dancing in the middle of nowhere and he recognizes the dance from when Yuu taught him many years ago)

Happy Birthday Jamil (so sorry this is late), the tsum part of this post really shows you how old it is I am so sorry. Jamil is a real cutie though, his birthday message this year is him thanking Yuu for being someone he can trust to give him something without having ulterior motives. Post OB! Jamil should have a special sort of respect for Yuu I think. He understands what it is like to have to care for someone who makes a lot of problems against your will, but maybe not that you could love that person in the way Yuu loves Grim. Lots to think about with JamilYuu, lots to think about... so this one gets to have two parts as well whoops.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, CW lots of self hatred and thoughts of death, body horror, major character death, bullying, and brief mention of suicide. This post features some o.c.s created by @archetypal-archivist for this ayuu. More information about the ayuu can be found here, here, and here. Masterlist can be found here

The early morning is a sacred time for your little family.  When Yutu was little you would sneak into his room to make sure he was still asleep.  He never was, he'd developed some sort of sixth sense for when his favorite person was home and would wait patiently snuggled into the red scarf he used as a security blanket to surprise you.

“Boo!”  The scarf would go up in the air and you would let out an exaggerated gasp of surprise as your son giggled in manic delight.  “I got you!”

“You got me!”  He'd been little enough to lift up into the air then, you miss those days even though they were difficult.  

Your son still “spooks” you when you come home in the morning.  His former blanket has become a part of his wardrobe, and he's much too big for you to lift up over your head anymore but he's not pretending to be asleep anymore either.  

“Boo!”  Today Yutu has made some tomatoes and eggs, you think you smell coffee but that's not a smart thing for you to be drinking right now.  

“Thank you, little light.”  You settle down at your kitchen table and Yutu excitedly tells you about his plans for the day.  When he does this you always feel lucky, as if you didn't expect him to be such a normal and happy child.  As if there was something other than poverty and your illness that would hold him down and deny him any sense of self or success.  Yutu has never felt like there is anything he cannot do so long as he tries, he's very ambitious, your little light.  You've told him more than once you hope his spark never dims, that you are so proud of him for not letting his circumstances dictate his goals.

There's some relief in knowing you aren't here to see him hiding behind his scarf again.  It would hurt you to see how fast he shrinks away from the lich descending from his throne, putrid rotting flesh assaulting his nose even through the silk guard.  This is his fault, he can find no other logical explanation.  You would disagree, he has no idea what the corpse in front of him would say, but neither of you lived to see what he has.  He's not so full of himself that he thinks the world ended with his birth, but yours most certainly did.  

Yutu is a smart and polite child, the sort of little boy who makes old ladies swoon and insist that his parents are so lucky to have him.  That was a point of pride for him before arriving in Twisted Wonderland.  He never had too many questions about his father, he could see he wasn't the only one of his peers who was being raised by a single parent which was enough reassurance for him.  Maybe he'd meet his father one day, maybe he wouldn't.  He was much more concerned with making friends and learning everything he could.

He loves school in general, but his favorite subject is the stars.  It starts with him trying to amuse himself while waiting for you to come home from work and evolves into a hobby as he gets older.  His first proper expensive present is a refurbished telescope you spent a lot of time researching and asking questions about.  That's the first chip at his self confidence when he's alone in Twisted Wonderland; you worked so hard for that gift and he didn't bring it with him.  Sure, he didn't know what was happening but he knew something was off.  He should have grabbed it and kept it close…

Star gazing isn't his only hobby, he really likes cooking and experimenting with coffee.  He took up cooking because he was tired of waiting for you to come home and make food and expected it to be boring but there's something fulfilling about eating food you've made yourself he really likes.  The fact it makes him more attractive to his classmates is not something he thinks about at all, not one little bit.  You've never found him making extra food for a particular “friend” with a familiar determined smirk on his face.  “Your father used to do the same thing.”  You say it absentmindedly, the look of embarrassment you're met with is also quite similar.  “Not.  Another.  Word.”  

Money is tight, but Yutu still finds ways to participate in extracurricular activities.  He wants them on his college applications, sure, but he also wants friends, his own little group of people who won't care too much about his parent's reputation. Cooking club and drama class end up being his home base, you've got an unwilling front row seat to so much pointless highschool drama it gives you a headache.  He likes playing pickup basketball with his friends but joining the team isn't something he got a chance to do before getting isekaid.

The little bits and pieces you remember about his father make him out to be extremely normal. You remember his favorite food, that he liked cooking and playing basketball. You tell your son he takes after his father in how talented he is; Yutu is proud to be like his father, he assumes that he will get the full story from you someday. Maybe his dad died, maybe you never told him that he was going to be a father out of fear and never got a chance because you lost your memories in a tragic accident. Either way, Yutu is sure that one day he will find out who his father is and he'll be able to help you reconcile your relationship, whether it's by processing his death or reconnecting your friendship.

There's nothing particularly special about the day you remember.  He felt like trying something new with his hair and you had offered to turn his scarf into a turban, memories of fireworks sparking your hands into motion while Yutu tells you about what his teacher wants the school play to be this year.

“Careful!”  Yutu whines as you pull his hair through the cloth.  

“I am being very careful.” You laugh, the look on Yutu's face is familiar. Just like... “Jamil bought this for me, you know.”

“Jamil?” Yutu has never heard that name before, but he can tell it's important. He's never heard you sound so tender before.

“I think we were joking about push presents and he was offended thinking he had to wait until you were born to get me something nice.”  There was meant to be a matching piece of jewelry with Yutu's birthstone he thought you didn't know about, but then…  how could you have forgotten that?  You were going to make fun of him for how sloppy Yutu's birth was making him.  He was losing his touch, the old Jamil never would have been so obvious with a surprise.

“Is that such a bad thing?  You're giving me a gift.” Jamil is looking up at you confused, but it's not Jamil, it's your son. Your little light who- "You look so much like him." Your hand shakes, the world around you fades to black and Yutu begins to scramble.

~~~~

When Yutu opens his eyes he's in a dark room in front of a mirror with a mask hovering in a sea of green flame, there is noise buzzing around him that must be conversation, but try as he might he can't reign himself back into focus. You are still, eyes glassy and unresponsive to his calls. There is a man shaking him, trying to pull him to his feet as he calls for... the word he uses is healer and that allows Yutu to settle himself. "... a healer and take Yuu to the hospital wing immediately!" The Headmage snaps and a woman with brown hair immediately bolts to obey. The person next to her reaches out, but does not follow; the boy's presence is throwing cold water over a particular part of the crowd they would be wise to keep watch over. That isn't the right word so Yutu must be dreaming, he gives the man in the fur coat his attention and obeys, stepping forward to allow the mirror to judge his soul.

"Scarabia." If Yutu was not so convinced he was dreaming he would notice the way the person who approaches him looks, the meaning behind the fur coat's insistence he stay put and wait for him in the mirror chamber. But he does not. So when that person extends their hand, welcomes him to Scarabia and asks him to follow he thinks nothing of it. This is all a bad dream, you will shake him awake and tell him more about Jamil.

Not that he really needs to wait.

The first hit is a slap, the second is a basic fire spell but he doesn't know that when it sears his skin. He doesn't even know why these students are so angry, doesn't recognize his own last name he just thinks the word Viper is being used as an insult. When smoke begins to surround him he assumes the other students have decided to stop toying with him. He's going to die. He just found out his father's name, magic is real, other worlds are real, you are dead. You are dead and there's a foul smelling smoke around him; he's never really thought about what it would be like to die but Yutu finds himself surprisingly calm. "We'll be together soon, [parent]... father are you waiting too?"

"I would hate to waste a necklace on the likes of you." An authoritative voice cuts through the smoke, Yutu recognizes this person as his attackers scatter. The strange one who tried to stop the woman who ran off after the man in the fur coat spoke. They are wearing a lot of jewelry, necklaces and bracelets with strange symbols that seem to thrum with power in a way that sends a shiver down his spine. A rueful smile crosses their lips for a brief second. "Not that it would be a waste of course." Their focus turns to the cause of the smoke, a kerchief they give one more good shake before tucking it back into a pouch with even more strange necklaces wrapped around it.

"Where am I?" Yutu sounds so small, he curses himself silently for it but how else is he supposed to feel when the mysterious stranger looks at him with so much pity?

"Exactly where you belong." They say with authority, as if they are attempting to shut out any doubts before they can form. "But, as much as it shames me to suggest it, that might not be the safest place for you right now."

Misbah is how this person introduces themselves. Their friend, who is beyond stressed to see Yutu so disheveled and insists on healing him before allowing him to see you, is named Sehrish. Explanations can wait until Yutu has had time to say his goodbyes, but the look the older students exchange when you ask them to make sure your son isn't treated like Jamil once was tells him there must be a lot of them. Of the three adults, no one agrees how to give him those explanations either. The only thing they do agree on is that it is unsafe for him to be in Scarabia right now, but there won't be a problem with Ramshackle Dorm even if it's name suggests to Yutu that there really probably should be.

Crewel takes him there, explaining along the way who he is and what he was to you; a professor turned reluctant mentor who cared very deeply about Yuu and Jamil's future. He's reluctant to think of himself as a grandfather, he's just not that old he insists and Yutu laughs just the little bit, but if Yutu has questions about Yuu and your time at the school he is more than welcome to ask. On his father he doesn't say much, simply that he is dead. Murdered actually, but the use of that word is complicated by the circumstances of it so Crewel does not suggest Yutu speak of his family to anyone other than Misbah and Sehrish. Yutu learns, later much later, that Crewel didn't wish to traumatize him further. That he wished to take his time in explaining things. A good idea, but no one that realistically was going to work.

Ramshackle Dorm is unlike the other dormitories at NRC, all the students save him are magicless exactly like his parent. They all know a lot about his parent too, much to his surprise you are something of an idol to these people. None of them mind that he can use magic, it's just neat to be able to talk about the magicless prefect with someone who also thinks they're super cool; some of them have family or family friends that went to NRC while you were here and saw how you handled the overblots, others learned of you when they came here as refugees and were offered a place in the program. "Ramshackle is for misfits and outcasts!" A particularly messy third year proudly tells him when he asks him why they don't mind. Yutu doesn't really know how to feel about that. He never manages to figure it out.

Sehrish is a graduate student and Misbah is a fourth year, which as Misbah explains to him means they spend most of their time "in the field." They wished to say everything from the start, Sehrish wanted to explain herself and her family but did not think herself qualified to say anything more. Was uncertain of how her story would make him feel, afraid of it. The Scalding Sands is their primary focus, that would have been his homeland too had Yuu not been disappeared. Currently it is under the rule of a phantom of the Sorcerer of the Sands, one of the Great Seven Yutu will learn about as his classes progress. Misbah does not hesitate to tell him that this phantom once possessed his father when he was a student, and it is believed that this time it is possessing his corpse. It's a thought that sickens Yutu, how could this have happened? And why?

The why is explained to him in parts. Sehrish starts with the history of the Al-Asims, of the city they helped to build and the relationship between her family and his. She describes his father's burning resentment of his station matter-of-factly. His father was a servant from a well liked and respected family, but that reputation came at a cost. The respect was not for him or his talents, it was for how well he served his master and it drove him mad. The desire for freedom and recognition transformed into a phantom, his parent had fought against it and seen it defeated but somehow it had returned to rule over the Scalding Sands.

Overblotting is something Yutu thinks he has begun to understand, his professors have focused on it heavily so he knows what a phantom is. He's even seen a few small ones, but a phantom large enough to rule over a kingdom resembling one of the Great Seven is... frightening. The other students are all more or less aware of their existence and Sehrish takes the rest of her time to explain where and who the other Phantoms used to be. "We don't know why this happened." But people have theories. There is a timeline he learns from other students whispering behind his back, how his parent disappeared and then suddenly Kalim Al-Asim was murdered.

The living Al-Asims aren't at NRC, there is a rival school across the Island where they chose to stay. They don't speak to Sehrish, the only people he can speak to with any level of authority are the one or two older servants who worked with his grandparents. They speak fondly of the Viper family, though of Jamil they offer little specifics. Murder is again the word used for what happened to him, quietly after looking over their shoulder. Yutu had an Aunt named Najma. She was lively, talked about Jamil's business and constantly made fun of him while being proud of his accomplishments. The Vipers were an honorable family. They didn't want trouble. Did not want to rock the boat. But his father must have otherwise he wouldn't have wanted to overblot...

Yutu wasn't quiet before Twisted Wonderland. He thought of himself as outgoing, you would be so sad to see how small his friend circle has gotten. As time passes, as he fights smaller phantoms, ventures into the Queendom on his first real mission, as he looks in the mirror and realizes he has scars now. His scarf has protective sygils embroidered by Misbah to repair the holes, he's met a merman with pointed teeth who mixed him a drink and told him a story about his father that made him sound... human in a way that scared him out of asking for more.

Yutu has seen what his father became, looked a rotting corpse into what remained of it's eyes and listened to it try to speak with a windpipe welded together by ink. The lich sorcerer of the sands is his father. Yutu has spent enough time listening to his Ramshackle dormmates explain their medical studies to see he died young; there are traces of poisons in the hairs he returns to Idia that make even him shudder. He will never get the full story, never get more from his classmates or the Al Asim representative he meets when returning Kalim's body about how this happened. Just that it was deserved, that none of this would have happened if Jamil had known his place and never obtained his freedom. That isn't something Yutu can bring himself to agree with. His father had every right to want the same say in his life that you had worked so hard to give him, and you...

If you asked Yutu when he started feeling like he did not deserve to exist, he wouldn't be able to give you a specific answer. He certainly never felt like he didn't belong in your world, the general sense of disbelonging he felt he always attributed to his ignorance of his father's identity. But that was a fixable problem, he so firmly believed he would one day get to meet his dad and other family and then all those burning cultural questions would be patched up. But Twisted Wonderland was another matter entirely, the harsh welcome made him feel unwanted even if the Ramshackle students went out of their way to try and mitigate that. But all of that acceptance, all of that love was tied to you. The living Al Asims looked at him and saw a pest, expected him to show deference and repent for his father's misdeeds, while the older servants saw a tragedy. A child so fondly spoken of and wished for but doomed to wander in a broken world none of them expected to survive. Either way, the only message Twisted Wonderland had to offer him was one of rejection. Whenever he made up his mind, by the time he made it to the past and was settled into your version of Ramshackle Dorm he was determined to keep you from making the mistake of staying with his father.

Part 2

[igetthedisneybox]

So.

Kids always get up to wild shit. Especially when their little.

Everyone's parent has a story of how their kid nearly gave them a heart attack.

What stories do the madrigals have regarding your next gen fic?

Oh god, so many.

Like, soooo many.

I decided to do just the biggest heart-attack inducing event for each kid.

Miranda: She's well-behaved, so the biggest moment was when she first got her gift at age eight and almost floated off into the stratosphere XD.

Amelia: At fifteen, she snuck out with her girlfriend and they got caught kissing....rather passionately.

Sofía: Got angsty one time at age ten and decided that she wanted to live in the walls like her father did. She was missing for half a day, and everyone was panicking.

Princesa: At the ripe old age of six, she was experimenting with her gift and almost caused a rock slide.

Fuega: She was twelve, and got so angry at one of the townspeople that instead of bursting into flames, she just straight up passed out for a minute.

Leta: That time she tried to climb the walls of the Encanto and fell like fifty feet, breaking her arm. I'd say she was around sixteen or so.

Andrés: When he first got his gift and just straight up vanished from sight lol.

Carlos: When he duplicated his birthday cake one too many times and made himself sick. He was five, this was the night he got his gift.

Avila: When she was nine, she wanted to see if she could freeze herself in time. Turns out she can, but when she's frozen, she can't unfreeze herself until it wears off. The family was actually very worried that she'd be stuck like that forever.

Amada: Got angry when she was eleven, and went to go sulk in the town's canal. Turns out, her water powers also let her breathe underwater, which no one knew.

Tomás: Tried to hover a giant wagon with his powers, and almost dropped it on his head. He was around eight or so.

Rómulo: When he was seven, he used his super speed to jump out of one of Mariana's portals, and ended up running himself straight into the ground. He was very injured. Did that stop him from doing it again? No.

Zoe: Straight up wandered away from her family while in town when she was five. They spent hours looking for her, only to discover that she'd found a tree to take a nap under.

Hugo: He befriended a big-ass spider, and let it crawl around on his head for a few months, until it died. He was nine.

José: Swindled a few men from the city for around 100 Colombian Pesos. They were not happy, and were actually probably gonna hurt José if they didn't get their money back. Luckily the family were able to yeet them out of the Encanto before anything got bad. José was nine, and very very very grounded.

Héctor: When he was five, he turned into an elephant to show off, and passed out after three seconds of transformation.

Óscar: Soon after he got his gift, he had a huge meltdown because he was seeing ghosts and things that other people couldn't see. The family was worried he was seriously hurt or something.

Beatriz: Was trying so hard to keep a surprise birthday party a secret, she projectile vomited all over the kitchen table. Poor kid was six, and so embarassased.

Lidia: Had a temper tantrum at age five, and made a scribble monster that wrecked havoc on the town until Pepa made it rain.

[thevoidstaredback]

Phase Two of the plan was set to take place during the next Wayne Gala. Meaning they had exactly four weeks to plan out every meticulous detail. It was going to be great.

Week One

Planning for a gala is never easy. Planning for a Wayne Gala is even harder. Invitations, as per social standard, must go out at least four weeks prior to the event, so the guest list was first priority. Tim was put in charge of this. He elected the help of Luke Fox.

"Dude, you are never going to believe what Bruce did."

Luke sighed. "I leave for one month- What'd B do?"

Tim grinned up at him. "We're pranking the Justice League."

A beat. "What?"

"We're pranking the Justice League."

"Okay... Why?" He asked. "Better question: How? Don't they already know who you all are?"

Tim shook his head, pulling up the security feed from Phase One to send to his pseudo uncle. "They have no idea who we are behind our masks. Better yet, they have no idea how many of us actually operate within the city."

"There's no way."

"Right? I was so sure that they'd know by now, y'know? Because Superman has memorized our heartbeats, and we've met him both in and out of costume; Wonder Woman's Wonder Woman, and she has the Lasso of Truth- though, I'm pretty sure there's a way around that if she ever did try and get our names that way."

"And you called me here because..?" Luke prompted.

"Right!" Tim opened a different tab on his tablet. "I need you to help me make a guest list for the next Wayne Gala."

"Isn't that like, months out?"

"Not anymore! We're throwing on in exactly four weeks, so this guest list needs to be made now so that invitations can go out yesterday."

Luke raised an eyebrow.

Tim met his gaze. "I said what I said. Will you help me or not?"

With another sigh, Luke relented. "Alright. You can fill me in on everything later- And I do mean everything. I want every detail. Also, why didn't you pull me into this before?"

"We weren't sure if you'd be in town for this, and you were gone during Phase One. Also, we didn't actually intend on Selina and Kate being in on this, either. Well, maybe Kate."

"You got Selina and Kate in on this before me?" He looked absolutely heartbroken. "Wow. I thought I was your favorite."

Tim shook his head. "I'm pulling you in now, aren't I? Now, c'mon, we've got work to do.

The hardest part about setting up a Guest List is knowing the relationships between everyone. Everyone will be amicable with each other no matter who was invited, especially at an event hosted by the Wayne Family, but distaste for present company will be made known.

For this particular gala, there will be a mix of upper and middle class attendees to cover the odd additions that are the members of the Justice League.

"What's our priority, Tim?"

"Guest list, seating arrangements, and interference."

"'Interference'?"

"Who's going to stand between people if families of hostile relations run into each other."

Luke shook his head. "Rich people."

"Luke," Tim said, "I hate to break it to you, but you're 'rich people'."

A gasp. "I am? Tim! How could you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry, man," he shook his head sadly, laying his hand gently on Luke's arm, "But it's not my fault. It was your parents."

"My parents?"

"A betrayal of the worst kind."

"How could they!" he sobbed.

Tim rubbed his back, "I know. There, there."

"Tim? Luke?" Kate asked, walking into the office Tim had commandeered. "What they hell are you two doing in here?"

The two look up, sharing a laugh. "Nothing, Kate."

She raised here eyebrow skeptically, "Uh-huh, sure. Do you have a guest list set yet? We need to get invites made up and sent out."

"Almost," Tim answered.

Luke shrugged. "I still don't understand why we can't just host an open event. It'll make it so much easier."

"And risk our identities being released to the public?" Kate said, "Not to mention the amount of rouges that'll get in."

"They'll try to get in anyway."

"Extra security," Tim mumbled, switching to the document that was shared between the family for planning, "Got it."

"No-" Luke turned back to him, "That is not what I said."

Kate laughed. "Get back to work, you two. I'll be back in a bit to print off the invitations."

"We can get away with sending the invited late because we're The Waynes," Tim muttered to himself, "but any later than a day and we're on cracked ice."

"Isn't the saying 'thin ice'?"

"Only if you don't wear a mask o cowl to fight crime at night."

"Touché."

Part 8 Part 10

[whoreforred]

Intoxicated Confessions

Summary: Tony threw a party for Sam's birthday, but Natasha was out of town on a mission.

Warnings: None. Fluff :)

AN: This has been sitting for a while and kind of sorta is a part 2 for Needs. I can't help myself with the fwb trope. But this is a precursor to something more spicy if I ever get around to writing it

Tony threw parties like no one else. It became even more apparent when you became an Avenger. Sometimes it was every other week that the lounge would be decked out from floor to ceiling in extravagant decor, as if there was something to celebrate. Most of the time there wasn't. But living the lifestyle of an Avenger meant stress. Lots of stress. So hardly no one complained about the frequency of such vivacious events. It was nice to let loose. This week though, it was Sam's birthday.

You would show up to the parties typically later than your coworkers; giving them a chance to loosen up before you made your appearance. You always hated the awkward conversations that you found yourself in when everyone was still sober and finding who they wanted to go home with that night.

Lucky for you, you knew who you would be in bed with. You and Natasha found yourselves slipping out of the party early on more than one occasion - trading the loud atmosphere for one that was more intimate.

But tonight wasn't one of those nights. Of course, Natasha had to be given a last minute assignment earlier in the week. She shared in confidence her annoyance at the abrupt change of schedule.

"Why is it always me who suddenly has to get on a Quinjet to fly to the middle of nowhere? No one else can hack a damn computer?" She gruffed as she moved around her room to pack her mission bag.

"No one else is as good as you, Nat" you replied with a small smile, attempting to change the tone of the conversation.

Natasha didn't reply right away as she stuffed her duffel bag tightly and zipped it shut. She turned towards you and said, "You know I was actually looking forward to the party. It's Sam's first birthday with us." She turned back towards her bag making sure it was closed all the way. She began again, "Plus I like watching you drunkenly pretend you're not staring at my ass." She let out a small giggle and looked over her shoulder at you. You smiled and felt your cheeks get warm.

"It's an easy mission, right? You might make it back in time."

"Maybe. We'll see."

So here you are. Perched on a bar stool stirring your drink around like it was a game. The ice clinked against the glass, over and over. The chance that Natasha would be here before the party ended dwindled. You were sure she was out there kicking ass, while you lazily sipped your vodka. You thought the situation was backwards. She should be the one relaxing, not you. Suddenly someone grabbed your shoulder.

"Hey Y/N, why don't you stop pouting and come hangout with the rest of us?" Wanda teased.

You raised an eyebrow and threw back the rest of your drink before saying, "I wasn't pouting, for your information." You began to stand up to follow Wanda.

"Whatever you say", she threw her hands up in mock surrender, "help me grab some drinks before we head over there."

You helped Wanda bring over the drinks to your friends who were sitting on various couches and chairs, each engaging in several conversations at once. The chatter stopped once they saw you holding the booze they requested.

Thor quickly grabbed two out of your hands and mumbled a thanks before relaxing back down. You offered Sam one and sat on an open chair to join the conversation.

Hours, and many drinks later, the night had come to an end.

Natasha slung her duffel bag over her shoulder as she approached the elevator. It was almost five in the morning and she couldn't wait to get in her bed. She pressed the button for the lobby and sighed as she let her body relax a little. She wondered how the party went and quickly pulled out her phone to check her text messages. Part of her was hoping to see a text from you, but instead she got one from Wanda from earlier in the night. A selfie with you to her side, sticking your tongue out, and Sam further back making a face at you.

Natasha smiled to herself then put her phone away. She stepped into the elevator and kicked herself for missing out. She would have to get the recap from you tomorrow. Surely you would be sleeping.

She walked down the hallway to her room but stilled briefly when she realized her door was slightly ajar with the lights on. She slowly creeped up and pushed the door open more, not sure what to find on the other side.

Her eyes quickly locked onto the figure sprawled out in all directions on her bed. You. And atop your head you were a sporting a party hat that belonged to Sam.

She dropped her bags and couldn't help the way her lips curled up into a smile. You had come to wait for her, but fell asleep in the process.

She walked over to rub your back and found your phone laid a few inches away from your hand. The screen was still on and upon further examination she realized it was open to your text messages, with one in the process of being written out.

'Miss ur face nat. Im drink. I mis yo'

The half written message made Natasha giggle a bit before pushing your body over to make room for herself. At that you began to stir, the party hat slowly dropping over your eyes. You pushed it out of the way and squinted to adjust to the light. Once your eyes caught glimpse of the red hair you immediately began to crawl to rest your head in her lap.

Natasha whispered a "hello" and you looked up at her, still clearly intoxicated, and mumbled something that sounded like "wanted to wait for you".

She took a second to study the way your hair fell around your face, then locked eyes with you again when she saw your mouth open to speak again.

"Can I stay in here?" You said slowly. She pulled you closer and replied "of course". You buried your head in her neck and began to feel the arms of sleep take over you again.

Natasha stroked your arm while fighting with herself internally. Natasha knew there was something more between you two than sex. And she had known it for awhile. But she agreed to keep things strictly sexual. There was no room for anything more complicated than that in your line of work. She had never been with anybody like that. How would it work? What if you didn't want to pursue something like that in the first place?

She turned off the lamp you had left on earlier and let her eyelids flutter shut. She needed to tell you how she really felt, soon.

[arandomferretsthoughts]

This popped into my brain and wouldnt leave so I wanted to share it with yall

—

A young boy and his parents are attacked on the street, only the boy makes it out.

It's a rare occurrence, an event like this, the police find the man and arrest him and everyone else is safe.

Bruce Wayne goes home to a mansion that feels larger and lonelier than ever, with only his butler to take care of him.

And yet the young boy finds himself too afraid to leave for more than necessities.

The young boy grows into a young man, he inherits his parents business and starts to leave his house a little more, unwilling to lose this connection to his lost parents but still he finds himself afraid, afraid to be around people, to be seen.

Until one day at a gala he must attend for the sake of the shareholders, he sees a man, a reporter, who holds himself in an odd way, clearly a tall and strong man who could be intimidating if he tried but the man held himself as if to appear smaller and unassuming, Bruce's brain flitters across the idea that the man is hiding something, or more hiding himself.

His brain that has soaked up comics and movies for years so as to not grow bored in his home.

And when he learns of all the good this reporter has been trying to do, he thinks the man would make a good superhero.

When he goes home the thought wont leave him alone, he thinks of a world with a hero, a world that needs a hero, one where his parents murder would have just been one of many, but this hero wouldn't have been there to help, he was too bright, a hero for the daytime, not for the shadows of night.

He thinks maybe he could have been a hero in this world, one that saves other kids from suffering a fate like his own.

One who is afraid and fights anyway.

The next time he leaves his home there's an event at a museum, with some special objects that are in town for a few days. There he sees a woman who knows so much about ancient relics and is so beautiful that he doesn't believe she could be just a normal human.

He thinks she would share her knowledge and kindness with the world given the chance.

While he remains mostly alone, other than his Parental figure/Butler, he also keeps in contact with two friends from when he was in school.

One is now a psychiatrist, with an interest in learning about fear and how it can change people, and the other a psychologist, both working at the city's asylum. 

Harleen is who Bruce considers his best friend, a goofy but kind girl who cares alot about others, she tells him about a patient, without going into much detail, who she claims would be cute if he wasn't so insane. Smiling and laughing while he talks about harming others. 

She got a boyfriend somewhere along the way, a man Bruce is sure abuses her but she can't seem to leave.

The three get in a fight one day, and lose contact, and Bruce supposes you can't have heroes without villains, though he can't bring himself to think of Harley as a villain by her own choice.

On the news Bruce learns of a man working to better science as they know it, a man who always seems to be a few minutes too late, he follows the story until the day something goes wrong and the man is there on time to shield workers from flying chemicals, killing him but saving others, Bruce thinks the man a hero in death, and could have been one in life, one who always made it to where he was needed just on time.

As time went on Bruce tried to get out more in normal ways, one night he went to the circus, he enjoyed it, reminding him of the day when he was little and his parents brought him to one just like it.

It was a few days later that he learned at the next show there was an accident, and a little boy lost his parents, he remembered being small and feeling alone when he had lost his, thankful for the man who cared for him he wished he could do the same for this little boy, but knew he didn't have the skills needed.

He could, however, make sure the boy got somewhere safe, and other kids like him too.

So he held a fundraiser and donated a lot of money into the foster system, doing what he could to make it safe.

And he thought of a world where he could have taken the little circus boy into his home, making it brighter and less lonely.

As he ventured out more and more Bruce travelled through different parts of the city, he saw a group of little children cowering behind one bigger who had just chased off a grown man, Bruce smiled as the kids cheered for the little hero.

It was the news that later told him the boy was dead, a homeless kid who stopped being seen, the little hero was gone.

Bruce held another fundraiser, this one for the homeless shelters and kitchens.

It was the news that told him the boy was not dead, found by the police, with other stolen children. 

Children that returned to a better place.

The day he lost his last parent is the day where he began to feel truly alone, the only person there for him gone, but Alfred would live forever in his memory's as the man who loved and cared for him.

He reached out to Harly again not wanting to be all alone, and they made up, he learned she had gotten free of her abusive boyfriend and had fallen for a woman who's love of nature was refreshing and new.

He knew little about his neighbours, but he tried to get to know them better, he struggled but eventually learned that the woman that lived there was very sick and that the man was not home much, when he learned of the child who spent so much of his time alone, he thought the kid was brave and told him if he ever needed anything to just ask.

The kid needed someone the day when his mother didn't wake up and his father wasn't home. Bruce did what he could, he was no father but he cared for the kid the best he could until his was able to return.

Bruce knew it was expected of him to have a family, someone to give his things and his business when he passed. He tried dating, but nothing ever seemed to work out.

However one day he learned of a child, a son, one the mother hadn't told him about, he tried to gain any sort of parental rights but couldn't get any custody, only visitation, he met the boy, a quiet but fiercely determined child, And he loved his son even without seeing him much.

When the quiet, hermit, billionaire Bruce Wayne, best known for appearing, donating large amounts of money to random causes and then disappearing again, passed away his belongings and company were to be split between two people, Timothy Drake, and Damian al Ghul, when the two met up to split his things, they found writings the man had never told anyone of.

Writings of a world where regular people became heroes, where aliens walked amongst humans, and where magic made lives exciting.

They agreed to publish the story's for the world to see.

To most people, the writings were just an entertaining fiction story that a billionaire wrote with his unlimited free time.

But to the retired reporter who knew his height frightened others, who now rested and found the stories learned that someone had seen how he stood, and what he had done and thought of him as a hero,

To the artefact collector and preserver who learned this man believed she was so knowledgeable about what she had strived to learn everything about, as well as beautiful, that he thought her to be blessed by the gods,

To the old psychologist who mourns her friend, a man who thought that no matter what she went through she'd always make the right choice in the end, 

To the family of a man who lost his life saving others, who this guy they had never met thought so highly of,

To the man that lost his only family to an accident at their circus, he was a man who wanted him get a good home, where'd he'd get anything he ever wanted, 

To a man that went through so much, believed dead for so long to learn this man who he had only seen once, saw him not as a poor homeless kid but as a fighter and protector,

To the boy that new the man for a short time, as a temporary guardian and protector, who made him feel safe and not alone when he needed it most, 

And To the boy who wished he could have known his father, but was kept away by his mother,

The storys showed to them all that this man, who some thought of as cold and egotistical, as he locked himself away and refused to be around others, was actually an anxious, lonely man, who saw what others didn't and cared about everyone in his own odd way.

—

I just thought it was a cool idea I wanted to share with yall, so I hope you guys like it

This is my first post on here, so please be nice,

Also, ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes Dyslexia goes brrr

If you want to know what I think he based the other heroes and character off of, just ask, and I'll figure it out!

Thanks for reading, and have a good day!

Edit:

Thanks for all the nice comments and reblogs :)

I genuinely didn't realize how sad this was, lol. Sorry, not sorry, guys

[absolutelynotsanebaby]

Hey in you villian au I had a few questions about Kai if you don't mind.

First you talked about kai and him being a cult leader, whats the gist of that, something similar to chen? A death cult, a fire worshiping soceity, a volcano conclave?

And secondly, whats his relationship with his sister, ambivilance, getting along in the 'Oh lets go on a pilaging and raid together thats sounds like top tier sibling fun' sort of way or a bipolar could be fun or could be fatal depending on the way the wind blows kinda way?

Finaly (and sorry for being long winded) you talked about his main thread / power came from societal manipulations, is this more cloak and dagers or populism / manipulation, the steel in the dark vs the gilded spider web so to speak?

PS fun au, realy cool designs my favourts are probaly kai pixal and jay, all just fab :)

Disclaimer: long ass ramble about my Villain AU.

so many questions today, not that I'm complaining! I love to talk about my aus. Kai's an interesting one too.

Kai's cult doesn't actually have a big base or anything, at least not in it's fully developed form. It's not ironed out but, I have the thought that the basis is that by joining the cult, you protect yourself from the end of the world snake of fire (definitely not it's actual name lol). By joining, you get into it's good graces, it won't eat you when it returns to Ninjago. By worshiping Kai, who presents himself kind of like a human-form of the snake, you fully ensure your safety. It's a complete lie of course but by the time the AU officially starts, it been over 200 years since canon, so it's had a long time to marinate. That's another thing, because of that time span the cult is huge. Functions more like a society than a small-time cult. Whole generations of families have been born into the cult, it's really soaked into the population. One thing I like to think about how you could walk into a random, harmless looking town and be completely unaware it's cult territory. That everyone in it is a member. I like to call them snake-dens (also what they're called in story).

(also note: since you mentioned Chen, Kai's cult does actually have similar snake imagery if that isn't clear lol.)

As for Nya, well, that's kind of complicated. See, Nya isn't a villain in the same way Kai is. Most of the art I've posted about her have been of her post-reformation design. Essentially within the two centuries since sea-bound, she'd developed into a sea monster. More akin to a destructive force of nature than a traditional villain like Kai. A lot of her destructive stemmed from anger, people abusing and polluting the ocean. Namely, Zane's kingdom would throw a lot of oil, trash, and broken/old tech into the ocean before an event where Sea-Nya had thrown it all back over the walls of the kingdom down onto it through a huge wave (hugely destructive, had a death count, just plain disgusting). Sorry for the ramble about her but I thought some context would be important lol.

So, Kai and Nya didn't actually talk like at all during those two centuries. Pre-seabound but post ToE their relationship was -- very bad. Nya was very, very angry at Kai for leaving them behind and becoming so awful. They never resolved that before Seabound. Kai felt guilt about that, what happened to her and that he never went to fight for hr or save her. But he never changed, so how bad he really felt is -- up to interpretation. it's a big part of why he and Jay fight/fought so much. After Nya had returned to (mostly) human, their relationship is interesting. Nya kind of hates him but it's -- muted. She can't stand the person he's become, how he threw everything away and never changed. That he had a real choice when she didn't and he used it to be -- a violent, cruel cult leader. When he comes around, she doesn't tell him to go away. She thinks he's pathetic. Kai wants his sister back, but he's not willing to change. They're complicated.

I'm going to say it's a 'gilded web' type thing but it also is very shady. He has a lot of connections and is just a plain focal point within the underground crime scene (or overground because this ninjago is really fucked up and dangerous lol, the entire land. ninjago city itself is completely gone). For instance, in Zane's kingdom, up in the ranks an advisors runs a smuggling operation for citizens to 'escape' (before Zane was de-overlorded anyways, after that he opens up the borders). Only about 50% of the time would those citizens actually get out of the city, the other 50% of the time they'd be sold to someone/somewhere or killed. Kai's allies with them (I haven't figured out exactly who that is yet lol). Another ally is Wen Xia (oc talk sorry) who's just a general power. Usually runs a fighting ring(s) but does a bunch of other stuff. Very dangerous and very rich. Kai just has a lot of connections and a strangle-hold on a lot of ninjago. MAN this got LONG. thank you for the questions I love the chance to info dump, haha!

(and TY!! Jay's one of my favorite designs too)

[obsessedwrhys]

UNFORGETTABLE

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Frank Woods takes you on a date at Burger Town (fluff, cursing, just reader and woods being a lovey dovey couple, reader is fem and also bell in this story, backstory will be explained using the plots of the campaign and seasons, reader experiences side effects from brainwashing, adler never shot bell in this fic!!)

ᯓ★

From being one of Perseus's trusted spies to working for the CIA, throughout your entire life you weren't sure who you really were.

However, it didn't take long for the truth of your past to slowly uncover itself when you and several others were tasked with taking down Stitch. From there that's when you learned your true identity.

Even then, you never felt like that person was you anymore, so you went on the rest of your life with a new name. Your own identity.

Despite the horrors in those events, some good managed to come out of it. You were able to score yourself a loving boyfriend.

Sure, he hates the soviets but you were a different story. Everybody deserves second chances right?

That's why during your mission at the USSR where you two were paired to infiltrate a russian base, he was absolutely baffled when you weren't familiar with the mascot of a famous restaurant he loved.

"Shit, it's Bubby! I fucking love Bubby!"

"Who's Bubby?"

"What?! You don't know who this is??"

"Uhh..."

And that was way before you guys started dating. After everything has settled down and that you two were blessed with free time, he decided it was only right to let you live your new life with a fresh start. That fresh start happen to be through the doors of the Burger Town entrance.

"I can't believe you managed to convince me to do this" You laughed as your boyfriend practically drags you into the place.

"You talk like I'm forcing you to join a cult" He said before letting you stand in front of him to queue up.

"Judging by how much you praise this restaurant, it might as well be" You joked which had him laugh.

"Oh yeah? And would you join if I asked you to?"

"Nope but I might turn you in for some cash" You responded which made him playfully grab you around the waist in an attempt to tickle you.

The second the customer at the front left, the two of you quickly stopped playing around and tried to act normal as it was your turn to order. You looked through the menu. So many interesting selection...

"Double Chili Time Bomb...?" You smirked at Woods who's standing over you. The two of you exchanging knowing glances at a shared memory.

"How about we leave that story in the past" He said almost like he's pleading you to forget it and you found it amusing.

"Because you mistaken a kid's backpack for a bomb and had everyone including me panic for no reason?"

"I didn't rest that well the night before okay. Now what are you gonna order?" He said and you looked back at the menu, going through each meal and being indecisive on which to choose.

There's so many...

But which one is ACTUALLY good?

Hm....

"Did you fall asleep?"

"Shhh" You waved at him dismissively to try to shut him up, but he ended up grabbing your wrist to place soft kisses on your knuckles.

"How about you go find us a seat and I'll order what you want" He said and you looked at him.

"You know I don't like—"

"I know"

"And I hate eating—"

"I also know that honey" He leaned in to place another kiss on your forehead.

"I did promise you a good meal so don't worry 'bout it" He spoke and you gave him a smile of gratitude. Feeling reassured, you eventually left to find an empty table to sit.

You're no expert but you're pretty sure you found a good spot. It's by the window and you guys get a good view of the streets. After a few minutes of waiting, you looked up to find Woods carrying a tray of the food he picked out. You could only watch in awe as he settle it down on the table before taking the seat in front of you.

"You ordered so much" You said.

"They're not all for me if that's your concern" He handed you your burger and you chuckle at his answer.

You remove half of the wrapper around your burger and just from the looks of it, it looked delicious, not to mention juicy. You then looked over at Woods who seem to be waiting for you to take your first bite. You couldn't help but struggle to contain a smile when you wondered how long he was staring at you.

"You look like Mary when she's waiting for us to feed her" You said, referring to your dog. An Australian Shepherd you two rescued from a shelter.

"Is that your way of calling me cute?" He asked with a cheeky smile. His confidence having you laugh.

"Shut up" You simply said but the smile on your face betrayed your words.

Not being able to wait any longer, you took a cautious bite of the burger. You kept chewing on the food but ended up pausing when you realised it was actually good. So he wasn't kidding. You thought and continued chewing but this time faster. Your act easily made Woods eyes light up in satisfaction.

"It's good isn't it?" He asks as he finally eats from his own burger.

"Its sow yummey" You said with a mouthful and he couldn't help but laugh at how adorable he found you in this state.

"Careful, I don't want you to choke" He grabbed a napkin and gently wipe the sauce off your cheek.

Taking his advice and also not wanting a heartburn. You took your time enjoying your burger and swallowing when you wanted to say something. At the same time, he was also enjoying his meal, he was leaned back and relaxed in his own seat.

"What did you get for yourself?" You asked before drinking from your straw. Your question made him look at you.

"Burger Town Classic Burger. You can't go wrong with the original"

"Can I try??"

"Only if I get a bite of yours"

"Deal"

Exchanging your burgers, you quickly took a bite of his and you couldn't help but melt at the taste. The sauce makes it so much better! Seeing you taking another bite, Woods couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm getting the hint I'm not having my burger back" He said but you simply kept on eating, grabbing some fries while you're at it.

"Why didn't you take me here sooner?" You asked as he drinks from his shake.

"I would have if we weren't getting sent around on missions so much"

"Oh yeah...."

Right as you were about to take another bite, you felt a sharp pain from the front of your head. You wince as you grabbed at your forehead. This catching Wood's attention immediately.

"Shit... you okay?" Woods quickly stood up and was ready to rush to your side but you gestured him to stop.

"I'm good. Just an ache..." You rubbed your temples in an attempt to sooth the pain and it was slowly working.

Once he was sure you won't faint or fall over, he sat back down on his seat with his eyes still watching you cautiously.

"Is the medicine not working?"

"It is, Park just says it takes time since they dosed me with a lot of drugs, but the wait will be worth it..." You hold his hand from across the table to try to comfort him. His hands not hesitating to squeeze back.

It remained quiet for a while until he let's out a sigh. His tone indicating he was upset.

"... I'm sorry—"

"No... don't even start. You didn't know I was being experimented with. You don't owe me an apology"

"Okay..." He muttered but he couldn't bring himself to look at you. It was clear he still felt some sort of guilt from what happened.

Just then, you grinned when you remembered something.

"I never got to say, I still can't believe you beat up Adler when you found out. Mason told me you also punched Hudson when he tried to hold you back" You said, trying to change the mood of the conversation which worked because you could see the corner of his lips twitched slightly upwards.

"Yeah well if they hadn't stopped me I would have killed that son of a bitch" Woods said as he hesitated for a while before finally locking eye contact with you.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me? Fuck... the things I'd do for you..." He chuckles a bit, almost like he's in complete disbelief to the fact he finds it humorous.

You could only beam warmly at his words, feeling loved by the reminder of the memories you two shared.

"... thank you for always taking care of me" You said and it was enough to have him all flustered. He shakes his head slightly with an embarrassed smile.

"Don't thank me for something I'd do for you" He said. Then he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear before resting his hand on your face to caress your cheek.

"Now come on, let's eat before the food gets cold" He said, reminding you of your burger that has been left unattended on your plate for so long.

"Ugh, I hate cold food"

"I know"

[gothicgender]

Heeeeeeey I loved your Velvette head-canons !

But now I need somehting with Alastor. I want to see how accurate you can make him !

What do you think about some fluff with Alastor ? For example slowly dancing with him or visiting Cannibal town with him.

Thank you !

I was waiting for someone to request something like this.

I love Alastor but some fans just make him...less Alastor. He is a maniac and a sadistic man that warms up really slow to someone, like we see him with Nifty. Also he is a manipulator sooo yea...

Fandom : Hazbin Hotel

Type : one-shot

Genre : fluff/ romantic

Warnings : female reader, she/her pronouns used, aroace reader, manipulation, reader doesn't know how to dance, 20s slang used !

Summary : Slowly dancing with Alastor before the battle with Adam

''Whatever redemption really means, I know you all tried. I have seen the good in all of you. And it's...I-I'm just...I love you all, so much, and-and live tonight however you want because-''

''We're all gonna die!''

Those words echoed in your mind for the rest of the night. How were you, the others residents of the hotel and a bunch of cannibals going to battle against THE Adam and his exorcists ?

You couldn't help but look down at the others whiel they were having the night og their lives before the battle. Worry was filling your thoughts. How were you going to live ? How were you going to battle against them ? How were you and the others going to survive ? You sigh and look down at your hands.

''I dub thee, King Roach.''

''Oh, to understand your twisted little mind!''

Maniac laughter brings you out of your thoughts and make you turn to your left to see Alastor and Nifty laughing togheter. How could they be so calm and relaxed when they could be living their last night right now ?

''Why the sad look, my dear ? Like I always say, a smile is a valuable tool ! What's eating you, hmm ?'' Alastor asks you while Nifty rushes to kill some bugs. He lifts a hands to pinch your cheek.

''I'm not sad it's just that....I don't know, aren't you afraid for the battle ? What if we aren't going to make it ?'' You look back down at the others.

''Afraid ? Ha ! Why are you afraid ? With the weapons we have and my help, I think we are going to bumb off those useless beings'' He says his smile widening careless about the big event coming up.

''But...what if we don't ? I don't even know what to do. Charlie said to live however we want and everyone is except me. Aren't you going to do something to make this night memorable for you ?'' You ask Alastor, feeling desperate to do as many things as you could that night...just incase you don't get to do it ever.

Silence fills the air, the only sound being laughter and voices from the others that were at the bar.

Suddenly Alastor clears his throat to get your attention. He exteends a hand to you and leans forward a little.

''I suppose I have an ideea for the night.'' He says and waits for you to take his hand.

''...What is it ?'' You ask him, curious and weirded out at the same time.

''Just a little dance ! Back in the day when I was alive I would always impress the women I danced with. I was quite the hoofer around my town. Come on, baby, I know the best songs !'' He says with a the same big but prouder smile, holding your hand and bringing you closer to himself. He didn't like physical touch that much but it never harmed to dance.

''Alastor, no...'' You protest, as he pulls you away from everyone's eyes and a radio appears on the floor next to the two of you.

''Alastor..I can't really dance'' You sigh and look away embarrased. ''Ah, there's no need to worry my dearest ! Like I mentioned, I always was the wonderful, copacetic dancer ! Just follow my lead and you'll be a ritzy hoofer in no time with a teacher like me''

He says and then an old song from around Alastor's time begins to play. It was a slow but rather elegant song with a man singing about his lover.

Alastor begins to sway you around, holding one of your hands while his other arm was holding your back. I told you to hold his arm and you did, keeping the pace with him...or atleast trying.

''See ? You're already learning sweetheart ! There's no beef big enough to not be resolved, you are quiet a fast learning babe'' He says and begins to dance a little faster. You keep dancing with him as the music continues.

He continues to yap about how he used to dance and freqent a speakeasy. He explained his favorite dances that were the tango and black bottom, tho he only used to dance black bottom when he was really canned. It was a relaxing thing to do when everything was about to go downhill. The dance bought you a nice, pleasant feeling of relaxation as you moved along with the demon. The conversation went on as you kept asking him questions about his time in the 20s. He didn't respond to all the questions but atleast you got an ''I love jazz and used to play it at the radio.'' and a ''I didn't have much time to dance and visit the speakeasy but when I did I was the floorflusher''

You didn't realise when the dance slowed down and when your head begun to rest against his shoulder but suddently the music stops and Alastor pinched your cheek again to bring you back to your senses.

''It was a delightful experience (your name), but as the others went to rest I realised you indeed should too. So, break it up and go to bunk. I need to take care of something first. Sleep well, my dear and thank you for the dance. It really brought back memories.'' Alastor laughs and kisses your hand, a thing he always used to do after finishing dancing, then walks away while you make your way to the stairs. You thank him quietly with a soft smile, feeling just a little tad better.

A dance, 20s style one can sometimes make you feel better and think about something else except the battle.

So, I don't really like how this turned out but uhm- yea....anyway I used a lot of slang from the 20s because I imagine Alastor would most likely knew the slang I mean..he is a radio host.

I kind of rushed the end because I really didn't know how to end it plus it's late and I literally want to sleep so bad (My sleep schedule is really fucked up).

Hope you enjoyed it tho, I liked to reserch the slang.

Thank you for requesting, darling.

[anyasathenaeum]

Home

A/N: I'm basing this off of this drabble I wrote as part of my 100 follower event, I really wanted to write a whole fic about it because Vash deserves to be taken care of and loved and lowkey told off for being reckless. Did I channel myself through this? Hell yeah I did. Enjoy friends!

Warnings: Explicit mentions of wounds, blood, violence

Word Count: 6.6K

"Well, this is definitely not how I expected today to go!"

You found yourself shouting to Vash over the sounds of yelling, blows and glass shattering, the two of you hiding behind the bar in the town saloon as several angry and drunk patrons decided to have an impromptu brawl, cornering the both of you with no way out.

The two of you had drifted into this quaint little town, looking forward to a couple days of peace and rest. You two had gotten a room at the local inn and decided to go for a drink in the saloon, and then next thing you both knew, you were hiding behind the bar during a fight. Several other patrons hid behind the bar alongside the two of you, all of them clearly afraid or trying to figure out a way out, too.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)!" Vash yelled back to you over the sounds of chaos, his expression sheepish, "I didn't think-"

"Don't worry about it!" You cut him off, flinching as glass shattered right above your head. The patrons were getting more and more reckless as they fought, clearly showing no thought to their surroundings.

You felt Vash's arm wrap around you as he tugged you closer to him, likely to shield you as he usually tried to do.

"We gotta get outta here! Before those idiots end up hurting themselves and us!" You exclaimed, glancing up at your best friend of many years as he looked around, clearly trying to figure out the best way to get out of this situation unscathed. Unfortunately, as a healer, escape strategies were not your forte.

"Alright," Vash replied after a couple moments, his expression resolute as he looked down at you with a nod, "On 3, follow me, and whatever you do, do NOT let go of my hand!"

All you could do was nod as you took his prosthetic hand in yours, clutching it tightly as you felt Vash squeeze your hand in return, as though confirming the plan with you one final time as you waited for his countdown.

"One..."

You felt your heartbeat in your ears as you prepared to sprint with Vash as fast as possible to get the two of you to safety.

"Two..."

The cries of the angry patrons were growing louder, all of them undoubtedly approaching the bar in midst of their fight, and you flinched again as another glass struck the bar near your head, a piece of broken glass flying free and striking your cheek.

"Three!"

Without a second of hesitation, Vash bolted forwards and away from the bar with your hand gripped tightly in his, the two of you sprinting as fast as you could to get to safety. You felt Vash tug your arm hard so you followed him, and you watched him flinch as a glass was thrown and suddenly struck the wall where his head had been merely a moment prior.

"Go, (Y/N)! Go!"

Vash quickly pushed you ahead of him, a yelp escaping you he promptly shoved you through an open saloon window. You tumbled to the ground rather ungracefully, groaning as you landed on your back, the wind getting knocked out of you. However, after a couple seconds of recovery, you realized that Vash hadn't followed you.

"Damn it!"

You cursed as you quickly scrambled to your feet, glancing through the window you had just been pushed out of only to see Vash trying to diffuse the situation and protect the other townsfolk.

"Come on, guys! Can't we figure this out in a way that doesn't involve violence?"

You watched Vash promptly dodge a glass bottle that was thrown at his head after that statement, his smile not even faltering for a moment.

"Now, now, that's not very nice!" You heard Vash say almost playfully, a soft chuckle coming out of him, "Come on, guys, you're scaring all the other nice folks. Why don't you guys go outside, talk it out, maybe drink some water?"

Vash's kindhearted suggestions were met with some choice rude words, angry hisses and yells of anger from the drunken patrons, who you could tell were beginning to turn on Vash rather than each other, now. You wanted to yell at him to shut up, to stop being so... so... good, and to get the hell out of there. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest frantically as you realize just how much danger Vash was putting himself in at that moment.

"Vash..." You found yourself whispering nervously under your breath, to nobody in particular, as your gaze remained glued to your best friend.

You suddenly lost sight of Vash from your window as he approached the drunken patrons, and a couple seconds later, you heard a yelp from Vash followed by a loud crashing sound. Then, the sound of several heavy blows and another loud crashing sound, as well as the sound of glass shattering. Your heart all but stopped in your chest as your mind began to go into overdrive, picturing all the things that might've been happening then and there. You were a literal second away from diving back into the saloon from the same window Vash shoved you out of when the saloon door slammed open and all the drunken patrons were promptly thrown out into the street.

As soon as you realized the instigators were no longer a threat, you sprinted back into the saloon, desperately looking around for your best friend and praying you would find him in once piece. Thankfully, to your relief, you saw Vash helping some of the other patrons who had been hiding behind the bar to their feet, smiling comfortingly at them all. Many of them thanked him profusely, some shaking his hand and others even patting his back or hugging him.

Out of nowhere, a bunch of emotions shot through you. Anger. Frustration. Fear. Despair. Relief. Happiness. You didn't know exactly what you were feeling, and you weren't given time to figure it out as Vash's gaze fell on you and his blue eyes widened behind his round, oversized yellow lenses.

"(Y/N)!"

Vash dashed over to where you were standing, and before you could so much as open your mouth, his arms were wrapping around you and he was pulling you into a tight hug, a clear sigh of relief escaping him. Your emotions continued to swirl within your chest as your face pressed against Vash's chest, your own arms coming up to wrap around him in return in a tight embrace - at least he was safe.

"Your cheek..." You heard Vash say gently, both his tone and the expression on his face worried as he looked down at you, his eyebrows furrowed and his hand coming up to gently touch your cheek.

As he touched it, you winced slightly as a stinging sensation suddenly registered - the piece of glass that struck you earlier must've cut you.

"Don't worry about me. It's no big deal, I can patch it up easily," You brushed Vash off, your eyes sweeping over him from head to toe, frantically searching him for any signs of injury from the skirmish, "Are you alright, though?"

"I'm right as rain!" Vash replied, chuckling sheepishly as his hand came up to rub the back of his neck.

You could suddenly feel the bottled up anger beginning to boil inside you as you glared at Vash, hissing under your breath at him, "What the hell were you thinking?! Y-You... you shove me out a window, and then you try to stop the fight yourself?! Vash, are you crazy?! You're so goddamned lucky you're not hurt, or I would've-"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Vash immediately held his hands up in surrender, his expression a mixture of sheepishness, guilt, and nervousness, "I didn't mean to shove you that hard. I just... I wanted you to be safe."

The way Vash's voice fell as he spoke those last words, becoming quiet and serious as he looked at you, let you know that he was being genuine in his apology. You couldn't help but feel your heart flutter in your chest at Vash's concern for you, and despite your irritation and worry for the man known at the Humanoid Typhoon, you couldn't bring yourself to stay mad at him. He held your heart entirely in the palms of his hands without even knowing it.

"You're way stronger than any human, Stampede. Be a little gentler next time you're shoving me out a window to safety, alright?" You grumbled instead, shooting Vash a look that immediately told him your words held no heat.

The smile that Vash gave you in response was borderline blinding, and you couldn't help but find yourself smiling, too. It wasn't your fault - Vash's smile was just extremely contagious.

"I really am sorry, (Y/N)," Vash said more quietly, so only you could hear him. He let out a heavy sigh as his fingertips just barely grazed over your injured cheek, and you could practically sense the guilt radiating off of him as he gazed at the cut on your face.

"It's okay, Vash," You replied, your voice soft as you took his hand into yours and moved it away from your face, "This wasn't your fault. Plus, I got lucky. A tiny cut on my cheek is within my healing skills to handle."

The grin you gave Vash at your joke made him chuckle softly, relieving him of some of the guilt he had sitting in his chest. He knew very well that you were a very capable healer, one who had spent many years studying how to help people with various illnesses and injuries and one who had patched him up more times than he could count. Yet, still, Vash couldn't help but worry for you a bit. He always worried for you. How could he not, when you were nothing short of everything to him?

"If you say so, O Wise Healer!" Vash responded, quickly regaining his goofy, outgoing persona and bowing to you in an exaggerated gesture that made you sigh in playful exasperation and nudge him hard.

"Yeah, yeah, enough of that, Stampede. You're embarrassing me in front of the townsfolk," You mumbled half-heartedly, your cheeks heating up as you tried to stifle a laugh, "We should get back to the inn. I need to clean this up."

You tap your cheek and wince at the gentle sting from the cut, and Vash immediately nodded before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, "Right! Let's go."

With that, the two of you set out, making your ways back to the inn where the two of you had been staying during your stay in town. However, as the two of you walked through the town roads, you began to notice, out of the corner of your eye, a tenseness in Vash's body as he walked. You could even make out a wince here or there when he moved his body in a specific way, and that confirmed your suspicion - Vash hadn't come out of the conflict unscathed.

"Where are you hurt?" You asked suddenly, your voice low and firm.

You watched as Vash's eyes widened as he looked at you, and as he opened his mouth to contradict you and brush off your concerns, you immediately cut him off, your anger bursting forward as you snapped, "Don't you dare say you're fine, Vash. I can see you wincing and you trying not to move your body specific ways. You only do that when you're injured."

Vash immediately closed his mouth, his lips pressing into a thin line and his blue eyes betraying the guilt and shame he was feeling at being discovered.

Knowing better than to butt heads with you, Vash simply gave in and whispered quietly, bowing his head and looking like a child having been caught causing mischief, "My right side. One of the patrons had a broken glass bottle, they caught me on the upswing. It doesn't feel too deep, but it'll likely still need stitches."

You felt your anger spike, but rather than yelling at Vash in the middle of some small town with a bunch of strangers watching you, you held your tongue and continued to walk towards the inn without so much as a word of acknowledgement. However, as you replayed the incident over and over again in your mind, the sounds of Vash's yelp and the blows and the screaming of the fight you couldn't witness echoing in your brain, anger gave way to fear. Complete, overwhelming fear.

'Vash could've died today and I wouldn't have known. I would've been too late,' You thought to yourself, your heart squeezing painfully in your chest as you forced the images your mind had conjured out as best you could. 'He could've died protecting others and I would've been unable to save him or help him.'

Like an endless hurricane, your fear drove your anger, which in turn worsened your fear of losing Vash someday because he was too selfless and believed he wasn't worthy of aid. Your mind became a storm, and you were completely lost to it as you and Vash walked back to the inn.

Vash felt himself beginning to sweat nervously as you walked silently by his side, not uttering so much as a single word about his injury. Usually, you would yell at him or scold him immediately, your face gaining colour as you told him off for being reckless and too self-sacrificing and thoughtless, etc. etc. as you worked on patching him up. But now... you hadn't spoken a single word, which absolutely terrified Vash. And scarier still, your face had become a mask of cool indifference, giving no insight as to your true feelings.

"(Y/N)... I'm really sorry," Vash spoke up softly, keeping pace with you as you both approached the inn, his heart sinking in his chest as you didn't even bother acknowledging his apology.

Instead, you continued walking silently until you got to your shared room, and once you were both in the room, you closed the door behind Vash, locked it, and went to your bag to fish out your healing kit.

"(Y/N)?..."

Vash's voice was quiet and filled with concern, although you couldn't tell if the concern was for you or for himself. You looked up at him, and your heart twisted at the sight of Vash looking a lot like a kicked puppy. His big, blue eyes were wide and filled with worry and pleading, as if begging you to say something to him, and despite his height, his shoulders slouched and made him seem... small. Vulnerable. It hurt your heart to see him looking like that, but you couldn't bring yourself to address it due to still-swirling storm of emotions in your mind.

"Move your shirt so I can get to your injury," You said, your voice level and betraying nothing of the emotional torment inside your head, not sparing Vash another glance as you began preparing your equipment to tend to his wound, setting things down on one of the bedside tables with practiced routine and precision.

Vash sighed heavily as he watched you prepare your healing equipment, and he winced as he shifted slowly to take his turtleneck off, wriggling out of it to allow you access to his wound as he sat on a chair, waiting for you to begin your work. He couldn't help but feel extremely guilty for not telling you upfront that he had been injured, and every second that you spent silent was a second that made Vash's heart hurt a little bit more.

You had been Vash's best friend for many years, and you knew and understood him better than anybody else. You understood how he operated, how he thought, how he acted and reacted, and you had accepted him without question, faults and all. You were always there by his side, through thick and thin, to comfort him and support him and yes, even patch him up from time to time. Well, maybe more often than just time to time. Despite it all, though, you never once gave up on him. The two of you had always been a team. But now...

'Maybe this is it,' Vash thought to himself mournfully, his heart aching in his chest, 'Maybe I've finally gone too far and pushed (Y/N) away, too.'

"This first part will hurt."

Your voice snapped Vash out of his self-loathing for a moment, and he gazed down at that neutral mask you kept on your face as you explained to him what you were going to do, your eyes trained on the wound on his torso. To his surprise, you had already mended your own cheek - when did you even do that?

"I'll inject a local anesthetic into your skin around the slash, and then I'll stitch it up properly. You shouldn't feel anything but pressure and slight tugging once the anesthetic kicks in."

Your voice didn't so much as wobble even once, and it scared Vash. He had seen you go into your "healing mode", as he affectionately referred to it, many times in the past, but it had never been directed at him. This cool indifference was terrifying to him, because for the first time in a long time, he had no way to gauge what you were thinking or feeling. You had shut him out completely.

And Vash hated it. He hated every second of it.

"Thank you for taking care of me, (Y/N)." Vash's voice was quiet, so quiet you almost didn't hear him as you began your work, injecting the anesthetic, "I don't deserve you."

However, instead of your usual "Shut up!" or "Don't say that!" or "Enough of that!" responses whenever he said something like that, Vash was met with complete silence. You didn't acknowledge his statement, instead laser-focused on adequately numbing him before starting the tricky act of stitching his wound.

Upon assessment, the slash wound wasn't deep, just as Vash had told you, but it was decently long and definitely required stitches. Once the anesthetic had a couple moments to set in, you poked Vash with a needle near the edge of the wound.

"Feel anything?"

Vash just shook his head, watching you carefully as you nodded in response, your face still a mask of complete neutrality.

"I'm going to start the stitches now. Stay as still as possible."

Vash took a deep breath and stilled himself as best as he could, allowing you to start your work. True to your word, he felt no pain as you patched him up, but rather pressure and tugging as you tied off stitch after stitch. Your work was done slowly, meticulously, but as your hands worked, your mind spiraled out of control.

'The self-sacrificing idiot won't ever stop. Why won't he stop?'

'How many times has he gotten hurt without telling me?'

'How many more times will I patch him up before he dies?'

'Will I lose him soon?'

'Why, Vash? Why?'

'Please, Vash, don't go. Don't go. Stop this, please...'

'Stay with me. Please, Vash. Stay.'

While your mind spiraled, Vash sat on the chair silently as you worked, lost in his own thoughts and emotions. He couldn't shake the deep-seated feeling of guilt for lying to you about him being alright, and although your mask of indifference gave him no indication of your current thoughts and feelings, you hadn't been able to hide a flash of hurt before your mask went up. Just that split second had been enough to make Vash feel like a knife had been driven into his chest. He had never wanted to hurt you. That was never his intention. He loved you far too much to even think of hurting you, and yet, he still had. He knew lying to you hadn't been a good idea, but he did it to buy you peace of mind, even if only for a moment.

But now... with you closed off and feeling so far away from him, Vash regretted it more than ever, the fear of losing you for good spreading like wildfire through him. He should've just told you and been upfront about being hurt. He owed you that much, especially given that you'd always stuck by his side and never once complained about patching him up, even though you always scolded him about getting hurt afterwards.

"(Y/N)?" Vash's voice was small and shaky as he spoke, and he took a deep breath as he tried to keep his emotions from running wild as he tried to reach out to you, to get past your mask once more, "(Y/N), listen, I-... I'm... I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I should've told you that I was hurt immediately, I don't know why I didn't, I guess I just... I thought-"

Vash's words died on his lips the moment he looked down at your face, his eyes widening and his heart shattering at the sight of tears streaking silently down your face as you diligently continued your work. Your mask had disappeared and the fear, the anger and the sadness you felt were all on display for all to see. How long had you been crying for?

"(Y/N)..."

Vash's voice was gentle and filled with concern for you as he turned to look at you, his hands taking your own into his and holding them close to his chest. He could feel your hands shaking as he held them, and he knew that you were unable to continue your work right now, too shaken by everything to keep going. Sure enough, you seemed to realize this yourself as you pulled back from him and put down your tools on the table next to you before promptly dissolving into full-blown sobs, your hands coming up to cover your face.

"(Y/N)!"

Vash immediately shifted and kneeled down so he was level with you, pulling you into his arms without hesitation and holding you close to his bare chest as tears welled in his own eyes. His heart completely broke as you sobbed against him desperately, your cries so filled with pain that it physically hurt Vash to hear them.

Had you been feeling this pain the whole time you were stitching him up? No... there was no way this pain was from just today. You must've been feeling this way for a long, long time and just never told him, likely for the same reason he hadn't told you he was hurt - to spare him the worry.

"Oh, (Y/N)... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!"

Vash found himself beginning to sob with you, the guilt of being the reason for your pain becoming too overwhelming as he held you close. All he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and beg and plead for your forgiveness and apologize to you over and over again until you understood just how sorry he was. He did this to you. Your pain was his fault.

The moment Vash had said your name in that worried and gentle tone, all the walls you had put up to try and do your job came crashing down as you began to sob, your fear and anger and sadness overwhelming you completely. You had felt Vash's arms pulling you into his warm and comforting embrace, and you found yourself clutching onto him with desperate need, your fingers digging into his skin as you tried to calm yourself down by reassuring yourself that he was still there. Vash was still there, still alive, and you were patching him up.

But as soon as you heard Vash's tearful apology, that set you off in another round of broken sobs, burrowing into his embrace and just holding onto him as best as you could, wanting nothing more than to just stay there indefinitely, stay in this moment where both you and Vash were safe and alive together and nobody could hurt either of you.

Eventually, you managed to calm yourself enough to pull yourself back together into one piece and to finish your task of stitching Vash's wound, pulling away from him and wiping your face with your hands. Vash himself was still trembling as you pulled away, his face stained from his tears, his beautiful blue eyes reddened and swollen and still filled with pain.

He looked at you desperately as you pulled away, as if pleading with you not to let go of him just yet, and you sniffled pitifully in response, "I-I have to finish... stitching you up. I-I can't... leave you like this."

That alone made Vash dissolve into tears again - here you were, in the middle of a breakdown because of all the fear and anger and sadness he had caused you, and yet you pulled yourself together so you could continue to take care of him regardless of the pain you felt. Tears began to spill down his cheeks once more as you said that, and he looked down in shame as sobs escaped him.

Despite how much your heart hurt from the fear of potentially losing Vash, seeing him cry before you somehow hurt worse. You found yourself now being the one pulling him into your arms, running your fingers gently through his hair and letting your fingertips drag over his scalp to calm him as he wept into you.

"Shh... shh..." You whispered to Vash gently, your own voice still thick from your tears, "It's alright, Vash. I... I have to move fast, before the anesthetic wears off. Okay?"

As you pulled away, Vash restrained himself from clutching onto you, instead nodding and wiping his face as he sat back on the chair, allowing you to finish up your work despite his whole body trembling.

With a deep, calming breath, you centered yourself and separated yourself as best as you could from every emotion that was coursing through you. You left your emotions behind for as long as possible as you picked your needle and medical thread back up and continued your stitching, throwing a couple more stitches before finishing up. Then, you gently applied a healing balm to the newly-stitched wound and covered it with a dressing, applied with a gentle yet firm touch.

Once you were done, you shakily stood from where you were sat on the ground, brushing your hands off and packing up your healing kit and trying to figure out how you were going to explain yourself to Vash. Yet, when you turned to look at him, you found Vash hunched over as he sat in the chair, his face in his hands as he propped his arms up on his knees, his whole body still shaking. You could hear quiet sniffles and broken sobs escaping him, and it broke your heart all over again. It was clear the last thing he needed right now was an explanation.

Before you could stop yourself, you walked over and kneeled down in front of Vash, pulling him into your arms and hugging him close. Immediately, as if seeking out his lifeline, Vash reached out and clutched onto you, wanting nothing but to keep you in his arms for the rest of eternity.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N), 'm sorry... 'm sorry, (Y/N)," Vash sobbed on repeat, and all you could do was squeeze him tightly and press a kiss to the side of his head as he sobbed against you.

You shushed him gently and continued running your fingers through his hair soothingly like you had done before.

"It's alright, Vash. It's alright. Don't apologize... I should be apologizing to you," You whispered to him gently, your emotions coming under control as you focused on supporting the man in your embrace. "I shut you out, and I'm sorry, Vash. I just... I didn't know what else to do."

Hearing you apologizing to him for doing the only thing you could to cope with your pain made Vash feel like somebody was tearing his heart from his chest and crushing it slowly. He fought to keep him emotions from spiraling completely out of control, instead letting out a soft whimper as he hugged you tighter, shaking his head.

"N-No... It's my fault. I should've told you. I should've told you I was hurt instead of hiding it, and I'm... I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I didn't want to make you cry. I didn't want to hurt you, I-... I never wanted to hurt you. It's all my fault."

Vash's voice was filled with despair and you could feel how genuine each and every word he said was, how desperately he wanted you to understand how sorry he was for what he had done and how much he wanted your forgiveness. How badly he wished he could repent for the damage he had done to you.

"I'm scared, Vash."

Your words began to spill forward as tears slipped down your cheeks once more. You pulled away from Vash, looking up at him with fear obvious in your eyes.

"I'm scared that one of these days, you're going to use yourself as a shield and get hurt badly and you won't tell me. And because of that, you'll die. I'm scared because every time I lose sight of you in a fight, I don't know if it's the last time I'll ever see you alive. I'm scared that I'm going to lose you because you were too good and too self-sacrificing and you wanted to save everybody and you wanted to grant me a moment of peace. Losing you isn't worth a second of peace because if I lose you, I'm going to lose the only thing in this world that matters and makes sense to me, Vash. If I lose you, I'm going to lose the one person who brings me happiness and peace. If I lose you... I'm going to lose my home."

Vash's eyes widened and his heart lurched in his chest as your feelings poured forward, and despite you not explicitly saying those three little words, he could feel them in every single sentiment you expressed. As if those three words were the only thing you were telling him, over and over again.

"I'm scared because every time I lose sight of you in a fight, I don't know if it's the last time I'll ever see you alive."

I love you.

"If I lose you, I'm going to lose the one person who brings me happiness and peace."

I love you.

"If I lose you... I'm going to lose my home."

I love you, Vash.

When Vash didn't answer you, you inhaled shakily and continued, sniffling and wiping your face as you tried to keep calm.

"I know there were innocent people involved, Vash. I know that. And I know you always want to save everybody. But... you count, Vash. When you get hurt, it counts, because despite what you think of yourself, you're innocent, too. And if you keep this up, eventually, you won't be around anymore to protect people. Your body, though extraordinary, can only take so much damage and I can only fix so much. I can't... I can't bear to think of what'll happen if I can't help you, Vash. I don't even want to imagine it."

By the time you finished your rambling, you were fully in tears again, despite your best efforts. Your hands kept wiping your cheeks, but to no avail, and your whole body was shaking as you sobbed softly. Even though you were crying, part of you felt better now that your fears were finally out in the open, no longer hidden or kept secret.

As you sat there, sobbing in front of him as you told Vash how afraid you were of losing him, his heart swelled and cracked in tandem for you. You worried for him. You were scared for him. Your pain came from the care and affection you held for him and him alone. A warm arm and a cool arm both wrapped around you and pulled you back in against a familiar, warm and firm chest, and you felt a gentle kiss being pressed to your forehead before Vash nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. Though his cheeks were still stained, his tears had stopped as he held you close once more, wanting to never let you go ever again.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

There they were. Those words he had never spoken aloud to anybody else in his entire existence. And yet, as he spoke them aloud, Vash knew that his words were never truer than they were in that moment. He loved you. More than anything else in this world, he loved you. You were everything to him, and the pain he felt when you wept in his arms was something he never wanted to feel ever again. He'd been shot, stabbed, burned and injured a million different ways, and he would take any of those a hundred times over seeing you cry because of him.

"I love you, (Y/N). I'm... I'm sorry I hurt you. I just... I didn't want you worrying about me. I figured that... if I didn't tell you, I was sparing you. I was protecting you from the pain you feel when somebody you care for gets hurt. But I didn't realize that in doing that, I was hurting you worse than I would've if I'd just told you. I promise that I'll try to be more careful, (Y/N), because I don't want to lose you, either. I promise I'll try for you."

His flesh-and-blood hand came up to cup the back of your head, gently stroking your hair as he spoke to you, his voice low and gentle as he explained his actions to you in return. You deserved to understand why he did what he did, and that he genuinely hadn't intended to hurt you.

Yet, not a single word he spoke really stuck in your brain as the words he spoke initially echoed loudly in your mind.

I love you, (Y/N).

He loved you. He loved you! Your heart sang in your chest at the revelation, and when you looked up at Vash's face, all sound in the world fell away, the only thing you could hear being the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears. You took in every detail of his face; his beautiful and expressive blue eyes, swollen from his tears, his blonde hair, the mole under his left eye, the curve of his lips, his tear-stained cheeks, the furrowing of his eyebrows, the edge of his jaw, the slope of his nose, every tiny piece of him that you committed to memory.

"(Y/N)?"

"I love you, Vash."

You whispered it so softly that at first, Vash wasn't sure if he'd heard you right. But as you gazed at him, your eyes glistening, Vash realized he hadn't misheard you, his own eyes widening and his heart thundering in his chest.

Neither of you are sure which one of you leaned in first, or if both of you leaned in in tandem, but soon, soft lips pressed against your own in a gentle, tender and loving kiss, sending shivers down your back and making your heart feel ready to burst. You found your fingers burying themselves into Vash's hair as you pulled him closer to you, wishing to be as close to him as you possibly could be. You felt Vash's arms squeeze you a bit tighter, pressing you against him with a bit more force, making it clear that he, too, wanted you closer to him.

When the two of you broke away, both of your faces flushed and your hearts racing, you couldn't help but smile at Vash, who smiled back just as warmly and as lovingly. His hand came up to cup your cheek gently as he leaned down to kiss you again briefly before pulling away.

"I love you, Mayfly."

There was no hesitation in Vash's voice as he said it.

"I love you, too, Vash," You smiled up at him warmly, blushing at his use of a term of endearment before chuckling softly. "That being said, you seriously need to stop using yourself as a shield. If you ever get hurt again and don't tell me, I'll drag you somewhere safe and then wring your neck, Stampede. No matter how much I love you or how many other people are in danger. Understood?"

That drew a genuine laugh from Vash, who hugged you tightly to him once more and kissed your temple gently before letting his cheek rest against the top of your head.

"Of course. I'd expect no less from you, Mayfly."

"You'd better," You grumbled in response, burrowing further into his arms and sighing softly, allowing yourself to finally relax, letting go of the fear and the anger and sadness you had been feeling.

After a couple moments, you pulled away from Vash and stood up, which caused Vash to whine immediately at the loss of you and your embrace.

"(Y/NNNNN)..."

You couldn't help but giggle softly at the puppy dog eyes Vash was giving you, his pout making your heart flutter in your chest as you rolled your eyes at him playfully.

"Calm down, Stampede. I promise we can cuddle all night, okay? You need to get into bed first, though, so we don't reopen your wound or anything, okay?"

As soon as you mentioned cuddles, Vash perked up and smiled at you, making you laugh softly. You watched over him as he stood up from the chair he'd been sitting on while you'd stitched him up, and despite knowing he could do it on his own, you couldn't help but take Vash's arm in your own and support him as he moved to the bed and sat down slowly.

Vash winced slightly as he laid back on the bed, the stitches pulling and the wound aching, but as soon as his head hit the pillow, his exhaustion hit him. If it weren't for you puttering around the room, he likely already would've been fallen asleep.

"Hang on, love."

Your gentle voice reached Vash's ear and he watched sleepily as you took off his boots and put them down next to the bed.

"You don't need to-" Vash tried to argue quietly, only for you to shut him down immediately.

"You're exhausted, love. Just let me take care of you, okay?"

Vash's gaze was filled with warmth, affection and love as he smiled sleepily at you and mumbled in response, "You're too good for me, Mayfly. Thank you."

"Oh, shut up."

Ah, there was the you Vash knew well. He couldn't help but smile as his tiredness began to take over.

After a couple minutes, the room went dark as you turned out the lights and you slowly got into bed next to Vash, ensuring to lay next to his uninjured side. Your head rested on the same pillow, and you nuzzled your face into his neck as Vash slowly placed his arm around your waist and pulled you gently into him. You could feel his nose gently resting in your hair as he took a deep breath, inhaling your familiar scent and allowing your presence to comfort, calm and soothe him.

"We're not done talking about this. You know that, right, Vash?" You asked quietly, looking at the man you loved carefully.

Vash simply nodded and looked you in the eyes as he answered softly, "I know, Mayfly. We still have a lot to discuss. But for now, I'm just going to hold you. You're all I need in my life, (Y/N)."

And he was all you needed, too.

[kokomos]

❂ 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟

jessica riley relationship headcanons

+ Always so excited when she gets to see you! Runs up to you and traps you in a bear hug before giving you sloppy kisses on your cheeks.

+ Hates being away from you for long periods of time. She's a bit of a clingy girlfriend meaning she wants a lot of your free time to be spent with one another. Whenever you two are apart she's planning the next time she can see you, she can't help but miss you!

+ Constant physical affection is a must if you're dating her. She loves the reassurance she gets when you touch her. Her favorite is when you wrap an arm around her waist to get real close to her. Adores having your face in the crook of her neck.

+ Definitely treats your lap like her own personal throne; enjoys the feelings of your hands holding onto her hips and thighs.

+ Kind of like a puppy in love; she's quick to blindly follow her heart and it hurts her more often than not.

+ Feels compelled to do anything in her power to make your life easier ie. do the chores she knows you dread.

+ Since before you two even officially started dating, she's given you so many nicknames in passing that you're sure she can't even keep track of the ones assigned to you. Her go-to is the casual babe or baby. She also wouldn't mind if you called her princess every now and again.

+ She's always asking you questions about yourself. It's important to her that the both of you are knowledgeable on the topic of each other. It's something that makes her feel more close to you than anyone else.

  - "If you could do anything, like anything ever, for the rest of your life, what would you wanna do? By the way, you can say me, I wouldn't mind complying with that answer at all."

+ Quick with the comebacks. Be prepared to lose gracefully if you ever get into an argument with her because there's no way she's letting you win.

+ So playful with everyone but the most with you! She tries to live life somewhat lightheartedly believing that's what can bring her the most happiness.

+ Prefers to forgive and forget. Doesn't understand the whole idea of focusing so much energy onto someone in order to get revenge. If the opportunity presents itself that's another thing though!

+ She's an open book once she trusts you and it doesn't take a lot for her to put her trust in someone. Doesn't care about the risks involved with loving and losing someone, she sees it as a necessary part of life.

+ Big gossiper!! Constantly pulling you aside during an event to catch you up real quick on any updates with the drama. Please be enthusiastic/receptive while she's talking to you about this kind of stuff! She means no harm by it and stays positive about the people involved unless they've done something totally heinous.

  - "I need to tell you what I just found out about that girl and her boyfriend. So last weekend, when she was visiting family out of town…"

+ Says she needs your help to do her braids but really she can do them by herself in under five minutes. She'll take any chance she can to feel your fingers in her hair.

+ On days where she's feeling lazy, she makes you do her whole make-up routine. No mercy, she doesn't care if you guys sit there for hours, it needs to be done and it needs to be done right. She shows her gratuity with a shower of compliments and calculated kisses as to not mess up all your hard work.

  - "Oh my god, babe! You're so good at this, I should make you do my make-up every day. Kidding, don't worry."

+ Secretly insecure behind all that confidence. She can become pretty defensive in an argument with you, often lashing out because she feels threatened. What she really needs is reassurance that you're not attacking her, you just want resolution or to talk about the problem at its core.

+ Jess is the type of girlfriend that wants to be treated like a trophy wife… even without the ring.

— ♡☆

a/n: dedicated to the anon who requested :) i hope i did jess some justice!!

[its-in-the-woods]

Down the Rabbit Hole Chapter 16

Chapter one here, two here, three here, four here , five here, six here, seven here, eight here,nine here, ten here, eleven here , twelve here , thirthen here, fourteen here, Fifteen Here

master list

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/Warning:  As always minor get out Almost entirely fluff, vague suggestions of sex, lots of comfort, it's sweet and sappy

Synopsis: Updated synopsis, Monday means things are busy, but not busy enough to not go look at nice dresses.

Note: Happy Sunday y'all thanks for reading and enjoy my work it means so much to me! This is just a little bit of fluff cause we all need some.

You are lying in the bed after changing the sheets, body sore in the best of way. Windows open and the cool evening breeze comes over your skin. It’s late but the two of you were too warm to sleep. Pizza had been ordered, more drinks had been made, and more sex. You can’t help the flush that crosses your face, as you remember the evening. The man was insatiable, and you don't mind. He took care of you every time, no asking or fussing, just turning into a puddle on whatever surface he had you on. Your brain wanders over to tomorrow, of course, it did. 

Tomorrow was packed, Walton had sent you an itinerary of what was going on tomorrow. It was busy. Nothing you couldn’t handle really, if set life had taught you anything it was how to handle stress. Tomorrow morning Charlotte would be coming over with some paper for you to sign, as well as a list of documents she’d need from you. It still made you nervous, but you had decided to trust Walton. No matter what, it would work, one way or another. The other thing that was happening was the red carpet event at the end of the day, you hadn’t really talked to him about it.

You slid off the bed and wandered over to the bathroom, Walton was currently shaving for tomorrow. “I kinda was hoping you’d keep the stubble” You muse, watching him work away as you lean against the door frame. His shirt covers most of you, it smells like him, smoke, vanilla something else you can't put a name to. 

Walton’s hand works quickly and easily moving over the skin covered in shaving cream. It was practice movements that he had done many times, you couldn’t help but remember the scratch of the stubble on your face. He flicks the razor into the sink as he finishes up. 

“Got to have a smooth face, that’s what they are asking for anyway,” Walton says quietly running his fingers over each area, before taking a town to wipe himself down with. 

“So about tomorrow, what does the red carpet event involve?” You ask, you can hear the trepidation in your voice.

Walton turns to you kissing your forehead, hands running over your shoulders, “Do you want to come with me? Be my date?” 

Your heart speeds up in your chest, at the thought of having several dozen photographers flashing at you. This didn't even cover the endless headlines that would surely be published the moment the photos hit twitter. 

“I would love to be your date, but umm.” You let out a breath, as you followed him over to the bed, “Would it be okay if I didn’t walk the red carpet with you?”

Walton sat on the bed, those damn hazel eyes watching you, “You worried about being seen with me?” His brows furrow as the words leave his mouth.

“No, more the other way around.” You come and sit beside him, shoulder slouching a bit, “Not sure I am up for answering the questions or dealing with all the headlines.”

Walton lays down motioning for you to come lay with him. You wiggle over and rest your head against his chest, the comforting warmth and steady beat of his heart soothing you. 

“If you want to come you’re welcome to. I don't think it will be as stressful as you might expect. That said, If you aren’t ready for that, then I will make sure you are escorted around the mayhem to meet me on the other side.” Walton tells you, hand rubbing up and down your arm.

You ponder this for a second moving closer to him, enjoying the feeling of his heat near you. “Maybe next time?” You feel a little awkward, you don’t want to disappoint him, but you're not sure if you’re ready for the hubbub that would be coming after the event. 

Leaning down he kisses you softly, hand wandering down over your cheek. “We will have many chances when you’re ready.”

"Am I being ridiculous about this?" You push, mind reeling as you feel self-conscious about the whole situation.

Walton's face breaks into a grin, and he kisses you again, "You are never ridiculous." You can hear the tease in his voice, you pout and scrunch yourself away from him.

His fingers push under your arms and tickle at your side, you squawk and try to move away as bubbles of laughter break out of your chest. Mind blanking at as you do your best to push away him tickling at you.

"Stooopp," You giggle wriggling away from him, trying to get your own fingers to find spots but he has you pinned in a moment. "Not fairrr."

He stops kissing you again, rubbing his nose against yours. "You are ridiculous, but I only want to see you content. Even if that means I do the event on my own. "

You roll your eyes and snuggle against him, "Fine. You've convinced me. I will go with you."

Walton kisses all over your face, "You are too good for me."

***

Charlotte had stopped by first thing, the stack of papers you needed to sign was explained in detail. Some of it goes over your head, but if you had a question, she or Walton would answer them. The list of documents you need was also relatively straightforward, many of them you had already from working in film. Charlotte and you exchanged numbers, once your show was done and you were back in LA she’d help you set up anything else you might need. The whole experience left you feeling pleasantly comfortable. It wasn't nearly as mountainous as you thought it would be.

Then Terrance comes over just as Charlotte is finishing up, the two of them exchange hugs before she takes off. The man is a whirlwind of energy, clothing is laid out on the bed, along with various accessories. The man talks a mile a minute and is all hands. You have decided to sit by the window ledge letting the two men work. Currently, Walton is topless holding up two different tops as the man looks him over. Terrance grabs a couple of bracelets, they eventually land on a simple white button-up and black jacket for interviews. Then switch to a light gray suit jacket and matching pants for the red carpet event. 

“And what about you?” Terrance turned to you, he is around your height with salt and pepper hair. Decked out in a well-tailored pair of black pants and flowing navy shirt, hands decorated with large rings. He looks elegant and at the same he commands the room. The man looks you over, taking in the simple blue jeans and a loose-fitting black top you are wearing. “Should we take you to get something for the event?”

You shake your head with a smile, "Oh, I am sure I can find something that will work for tonight."

Terrance narrows his blue eyes at you, turning back to Walton. "Do you have dresses hiding in your closet I don't know about it?'

Walton chuckles as he does up most of the buttons on the shirt. “Nothing that would fit her, I am afraid.”

The man sighed, putting his hands on his hips, turning back to you, "It will be my treat. Plus I doubt your man here has taken you out much."

You break eye contact and look away. Walton grins as he gets his jacket on. Walton looks over at you, “You are welcome to take him up on his offer.”

You ponder this for a moment, you couldn’t remember the last time you had gone shopping for something outside work clothes. Most of your wardrobe was black or neutral colored clothes, comfortable to wear, and easy to clean. “Umm, sure, I wouldn't mind finding something a little more appropriate.”

Terrance claps his hands together, “Excellent! Now I am excited!”

***

The first two interviews go off without a hiccup, everyone is professional and make sure you are comfortable. You find yourself easing into things, it’s not much different from working on set. Smaller crews, more intimate locations, and a breakneck pace. Once Walton is set you sit back and enjoy the filming process, listening to Walt tell stories never got old. As you arrive at the third interview Terrance stops by to grab you. Walton gives you a quick kiss as you are out the door with the man, down into the sunshine-spilled streets. The stylist is on the move, and you are doing your best to keep up as you slide into the front seat of his mini cooper. 

“So how are you enjoying LA,” Terrance asks, easily moving along the busy roadways. 

You shift in your seat slightly, this was the most you’ve seen of the city this weekend.“Ahh, like you said, haven't been out much,” 

Terrance chuckles as he lights a cigarette rolling down the window, “Ah, a weekend that’s been more pleasure than exploration.”

You are now officially pink, swallowing, you take a sip of water before replying, “ Something like that, we don’t get many multiple days off together.”

Terrance has a small grin on his face, “That’s Walton, man loves to be busy, I have no idea how he didn’t lose his mind during the pandemic.”

“He probably did, trying to make up for lost time now. I know I was losing my mind but I also live in a shoebox.” You reply, your mind picturing Walton just running from one end of his house to the other like some madman. 

“But you are moving down here though?” Terrance pries, as he turns down another busy street. You briefly wonder how the man had any clue where he was going.

You nod, “I wasn’t certain, but I think it makes sense. Looking forward to not having to live in an apartment anymore. Nice to have some space and be in a bigger city.”

Terrance pulls up to the small storefront, and you follow him inside. Despite the appearance, the entire place is beautifully laid out with amazing dresses. 

Terrance is going through the racks like he is looking for the cure for cancer, all careful precision and hurried movements. 

“So you’re going to be Watlon’s personal make-up artist going forward?” Terrance asks as he pulls out another dress and hands it to you. 

“Yes, that's the plan, still working out details. Don’t think I’ve seen so much paperwork” You reply, eyes wide at some of the price tags. You adjust how you carry things so nothing is touching the floor. 

“I am sure Walton will take excellent care of you. Charlotte is also a dear friend of mine, the lady knows her stuff in and out.” The man states, walking you over to the changing rooms. He hangs up several of the dresses humming over them. “I was going to try you in this red number, but I think I like these blue ones better.”

You slip into the room slipping off your clothes to pull the dress on. It has a corset back which proves tricky to do up by yourself. It has a scoop neckline, which you realize reveals Walton’s handy work of marks. 

“Walton mentioned that he was going to be traveling again,” Terrance said, pushing the curtain open to help you tie up the piece. 

“Yes, I think he mentioned that there was work lined up,” You smile, face a little flush, the dress is squishing in all the wrong ways. “I think I may need something that, umm, covers these.” You point at the marks, a small grin tugs at Terrance’s lips.

“Oh, well that changes things,” Terrance groans, immediately untying the back. He hands you a piece in navy blue with gold embroidered flowers. “I am going to have to tell him to keep the marks somewhere lower. Damn vacuum cleaner.”

A small snort leaves your mouth, as you tuck yourself back into the changing room, the thought of Walton getting scolded kept the smile there.

The zippers barely go up on this one, Terrance adjusts a tie on the side, and it slips on. The neckline covers up the marks but you feel like you are in a cardboard box. You grimace, trying to adjust the material so it looks half decent, but Terrance is already unzipping you and handing you a deep red piece. 

“Haven’t seen Walton this excited about anyone in years,” Terrance quips as you come out in the red number, it's the best out of the bunch but you aren’t sure about the color. 

“Oh? I haven’t really,” You cringe as Terrance fluffs the material out in a few areas, " asked about past relationships.”

“Nothing of interest really, man has needs and all that. But he’s really taken a liking to you,” Terrance says, before handing you a black dress. “He never shuts up about you, pretty sure he is smitten.”

“Yeah? I like him too,” You flush again as you peel off the latest pieces. Take a few breaths before slipping into the next piece. 

You walk out feeling confident about this one. It’s tight under your bust, coming up and wrapping around your neck to cover the bruises, then flows out in whisps of tulle and satin. Terrance is smiling as he grabs something sparkling, it’s layers of rhinestones that fall over you making the dress look like it’s covered in dew.

“Oh I think this is the winner,” Terrance smiles, having you spin around. The dress is sparkling in the light, it rests just at your ankles and is loose enough for you to move freely. “Yep, I am good at what I do. Look at you, just stunning”

You look in the mirror, taken aback by how you look, “Wow. This is beautiful.”

Terrance is beaming as he takes you in, “I don’t even think we need adjustments, you are looking red carpet worthy.”

A thread of doubt curling in your mind, pushing that away, and focus on enjoying the feeling. You can’t remember the last time you put on a dress much less one this stunning. Terrance fluffing and preening you, showing how to make the piece sit just right. 

“Okay, let’s get everything sorted. Few bits of paperwork, and then we will go get you some shoes,” Terrance says with a smile, you smile back before tucking yourself into the changing room. You do a silent squee, turning around in the space a few times. Stopping, you calm yourself down and change back into your street clothes. 

You carefully put the dress on the hanger and step out. Terrance hands it over to one of the staff who takes it up front.

“So with the dress,” Terrance explains walking you up to the counter, “Just hang it up in Walton’s closet before you leave, I will have someone pick it up and return it here.”

“Oh, yes of course,” You reply, slightly saddened that it was a rental. Then again with the price, it only makes sense. “I will make sure it gets back to you. Thank you so much for this.” 

Terrance fills out all the paperwork and whatever else is needed. Then you are whisked out to find some matching heels, and back on your way to meet up with Walton.

Terrance takes a puff of a cigarette as the two of you drive down the busy streets. “When you move down here I will have to take you out, and fill out the other half of that closet.”

“Really? I would enjoy that,” You reply, still a little taken aback by all of this. The thought of having clothes picked out by Terrance sounds wonderful. "Thank you again,"

“Of course, got to make sure you are looking your best,” Terrance says, butting the smoke out in an ashtray.  “Plus, I miss working with women, so many options.” 

You chuckle, pondering what the next few months might look like. Your whole world changing in the blink of an eye. 

***

The rest of the day went off without a hitch, you both are at home to get ready for the last event of the night. You pull out the gown and lay it on the bed. It doesn’t feel real. You stand there, head spinning a little, how was this even happening? Were you really going to go down the red carpet, the dress was beautiful, and you had done up your make-up, so why not? You swallow, your mind is still swirling around. 

“Hey,” Walton whispers, you turn to see him standing there. Your breath caught in your throat, he looked so good. He always looks good, but something about the cut of the suit, the fact the last few buttons aren’t done up makes him look even better. You can see his long neck peeking out between the buttons, licking your lips as you watch him move. 

“Hi,” You squeak, as you look him up and down, trying to burn the image into your mind. “I will get into this right now.”

Walton moves over, hands resting on your hips,  “If you want to stay here tonight, it’s okay. It was a busy day for both of us.”

“No, I do want to come with you, ” You say, even as you worry at your lips. “Try it out anyway.”

Walton moves away, opening up a drawer on the side table, you watch him. Slightly concerned he might have something more devious in mind, instead he comes to you with a small box. You blink a few times, as he hands it to you, feeling a little nervous as you go to open it.

“I promise that it’s nothing too fancy,” He says with a small smile, his face flushing as he watches you.

You take a moment before opening up the box, inside are two silver bracelets, one slightly smaller than the other. Taking out the smaller one you slip it on over your hand, the cool metal sends a smaller shiver over your skin. Walton takes the other and slips it onto his wrist. You run your fingertips over it Walton grinning as his bracelet pulses. 

“Oh? Wait-” You do the motion again, grabbing his wrist you can feel where you have touched. A small pulse vibrating against his skin as you move your fingers.

Walton grins as he watches you realize how it works. “If I am thinking about you,” He runs his fingers over the bracelet, and you immediately feel where his fingers touch. “You can feel me”

You let out a little giggle as you trace your fingers over your bracelet, watching him react to it. “Oh, this is so neat.”

He leans in and kisses you, you kiss him back wanting to stay there. He pulls you against him, holding you tight against his chest. You close your eyes and just take in the moment. The two of you locked in time wrapped around the other.

“I should get dressed,” You say, hesitant to move. The last thing you want to do is go out but know it’s important. 

Walton lets you go, giving you another kiss on the forehead. You slip out of your clothes and carefully step into the dress, Walton coming over to help you do up the zippers. Then you grab the rhinestone top piece sliding it down over top. You move it back and forth until it sits right, like how Terrance had showed you, the lighting in the room making it sparkle. Walton steps back, his eyes traveling over you, you do a little spin and he grins. 

“You look stunning,” He whispers, eyes going over the dress as you move in it, “It fits perfectly,”

You grin back, “Terrance knows what he is doing.”

“That he does, might have to cut the night short just so I can take you out of it,” He comes over and brings you close, fingers running over the different details of the dress. 

You lean up and kiss him, “Promises, promises.”

seventeen

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