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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 3 years ago

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The Baseball Incident

Jake Lockley X Reader summary: You and Jake get into an argument over who your favorite baseball team is, causing a blowout between you two. can Marc, or Steven help repair the damage? Or will things never go back to the way they once were? a/n:my first fic in almost two years! who would've thought lol thank you @gaylemonshark for helping me with the idea and giving advice on how to write this fic, it was super appreciated! I hope everyone who reads this likes it as much as I loved writing it! feedback is much appreciated! gif is not mine! red italics are Jake!

It was no secret how big a fan of baseball Jake was, he made it abundantly clear the moment you two had met. Marc had made it known he wasn’t into baseball as much as he was into football. Steven refused to talk about sports at all, claiming it made men into nothing but morons.

It was another Saturday in the apartment, Steven had fronted while working and let Jake front the moment he stepped inside. You had been cooking dinner when Jake looked around, brow furrowed for a brief moment before he realized where he was.

“Don’t worry, games already on the television, made sure it was set up before you even got home,”

Jake was more than ecstatic, the Yankees were playing the Red Sox and he couldn’t wait to watch them wipe the floor with the Boston team.

“You’re the best darling, what would I do without you?”

Jake knew it was a rhetorical question, something they’d said to one another on occasion. It mainly depended on what was going on that day.

“Well for starters you’d be a lot more miserable without me,”

Your smirk was downright adorable, teasing Jake to the point he was tempted to kiss it off of your face entirely.

“You might just be right, how about we eat and watch the game?”

Jake knew better than to get too rowdy, considering they had neighbors that were far too nosy for their own good.

You nodded, dishing up two plates of food and bringing them over to the coffee table. Jake grabbed a beer for himself, and a seltzer for you. He still couldn’t understand how you’d be able to drink the stuff, it tasted so nasty, but he bought it anyway cause you loved it.

“From what I’ve heard, Pivetta has been pitching really well lately,”

Jake’s hand stopped mid bite, did you just say a Red Sox player was pitching good? What the hell was going on?

“Babe, what are you talking about?”

You kept your eyes on the screen, happily digging into your dinner and ignoring the man beside you. This felt like a worse betrayal than when Marc found out that Khonshu hadn’t let him go.

“What? I’m just watching the game with you,”

You risked a glance over to the other man, knowing he wouldn’t be too with what you’d said.

“Nuh uh, what did you just say about their pitcher?”

Of course that would be the one thing he focused on, of course.

“Jake, I just want to enjoy dinner and watch the game with you, can we do that?”

You were ready to plead, this was going to turn into a full argument if Jake had his way. Then again, most times he watched baseball it turned into an argument due to the fact he stayed up till nearly three in the morning.

“No, we’re going to discuss the fact that you’re apparently a disgusting Red Sox fan,”

Jake’s words sounded harsher than he’d hoped, cutting through the air like the knives he’s used to many times on his victims.

“Jake this isn’t necessary, are we really about to argue over who are favorite baseball teams are? That seems stupid, hell it feels childish!” You didn’t really want to get into all of this, fighting over something so trivial but Jake was too hard headed to hear anything except his own mind. Even if that meant ignoring both Steven, and Marc telling him to relax and just watch the goddamn game.

“Childish? You know as well as I do that they have a feud! That isn’t childish at all!”

Jake couldn’t lower his voice, anger bubbling up inside of him as he stared you down, waiting to hear what else you were going to possibly say.

“Jesus, Jake this is stupid! Why are we arguing over baseball teams? Yes, I know they’ve had a feud for decades but that doesn’t change who my favorite team is. I grew up watching them!”

This was an argument you’d had with Marc before, he’d mentioned watching football one night(spoiler it was the superbowl)and he was curious to see who would win. His team wasn’t anywhere near good, but you never made fun of him for it. Hell your team hasn’t won in a while either, but once Marc found out he’d ribbed you over who you’d decided was your favorite.

It didn’t turn into a full on outlash fight, throwing insults until one of you finally took a step back and left the apartment. That seemed to be a recurring theme when it came to Jake, he would start arguments and leave when something too harsh was said, leaving Steven, or Marc to pick up the pieces.

“Why can’t you be more like Steven? At least he knows when to drop a fucking argument, it’s just baseball Jake! It doesn’t mean anything to us personally! Why do you make everything so serious?”

You haven’t felt this angry in so long, not since you’d first met Marc by accident due to some asshole at the bar trying to grab your ass.

“You’re acting like I personally insulted your family! All I’d said was I liked the Red Sox, it’s not the end of the world,”

By the time you’d cooled down for a brief second, you noticed how quiet Jake was. As you slowly looked over at him you couldn’t help but notice the tears swimming in his eyes.

“Jake, I-”

The sound of his footsteps cut you off, resonating within the apartment as he stormed out, front door slamming harshly. Photo frames shaking on the walls as you tried to slow your breathing, how could you say something so hurtful? You’d never said anything of the sort to Marc, or Steven before, so why say that to Jake?

“Shit,”

You ran over to your shoes, pulling each one on before grabbing your coat to run outside. Marc had convinced both Steven, and Jake to move back to the states, saying that they needed a fresh start. So running outside in the middle of the night in nothing but your pajamas definitely wasn’t the smartest idea.

“Jake!”

There wasn’t anyone outside, which seemed to be a first for the apartment building. Why had Marc even picked New York to move to in the first place? He could have moved anywhere in the US, and yet he picked the place with some of the most insufferable people.

Reaching for your phone you dialed Jake's number, of course it was actually Marc, and Steven’s, but you knew better than to call their contacts. They’d each put a different ringtone for your contact, depending on who was fronting it helped them know who you needed at that moment.

You stood outside for another twenty minutes, waiting for Jake to come home so you could apologize, tell him you hadn’t meant what you’d said to him.

Sighing softly, you went back up to your apartment, shoulders slumped as you soon realized Jake wouldn’t be coming back for the night. You’d wake up to either Marc, or Steven in the morning.

The bed would feel too empty, too cold without your boys to help cuddle you to sleep for the night. Groaning you grabbed a blanket off the bed, reaching for the pillow that laid on the opposite side. Making the couch a little more comfortable, you laid down pulling the blanket overtop of your body before huffing.

Sleep came easier than you’d expected, drifting off into a dreamless sleep as Jake wandered around the dark streets with no destination in mind.

Jake, I doubt she meant anything she said. You know as well as I do that she doesn’t lash out unless she feels cornered.

Shut up Marc! You know damn well she meant every word she said, she doesn’t want someone who murders people for a living, she wants a timid man who will bend at her will.

Steven had been silent the entire time, afraid to speak and upset Jake more than he already seemed to be. What could he even say to begin with? ‘Oh no! She actually likes that you’re nothing like Marc, or I, in fact she prefers it!’ No, that would get him yelled at by both other men.

C’mon, at least go back to the apartment, I’m sure you’re starving right now anyway.Marc knew deep down that Jake was hiding how upset he actually was, the emotions hidden so far down in his psyche that no one would ever see them.

Without questioning Marc, and blatantly ignoring Steven entirely, Jake started the trek back home. You’d surely be asleep, curled up in the queen size bed with one of your plushies tucked safely under your chin. Maybe it’d be the one Steven got for you, that little stuffed hippo he got before you’d all moved back to the states.

Jake hadn’t wanted to get anything for you at first, at least not until he’d properly introduced himself. Marc knew you’d love Jake anyway, confident that things would go smoothly and you’d accept him no matter what.

Jake opened the door slowly, not wanting to wake you in case you had managed to fall asleep in the hours he was away. Once he slipped off his shoes, and dropped his keys into the bowl beside the door did he notice that you were asleep on the couch, his blanket wrapped tight around your body. Wait, his blanket? Surely he was seeing things, you never stole Jake’s blanket, the man was too possessive of it to ever let it leave his grasp.

Steven and I will give you two some privacy, but if I hear her crying I’m coming out and making sure you stay far away.Jake could only nod, kneeling down so he was face to face with you, your expression soft as you slept soundly.

“I’m so sorry,”

Jake pressed a kiss to your hair, sliding his arms underneath you before standing up slowly before making his way to the bedroom. He wasn’t sure when you woke up, eyes looking around before stopping on his face.

“Jake! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said,”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your own tears sliding down your face. How hurt was Jake? Would he tell you the truth or keep everything bottled away?

“I know, why don’t we go to bed and talk about everything in the morning?” Sure, this probably wasn’t the best idea he’d had in a while, but bringing up the argument when he was upset wasn’t the smartest thing to do anyway.

You nodded slowly, letting Jake know you’d heard him loud and clear. He laid you down in the bed gently before stripping down to his briefs. How either Marc, or Steven could sleep next to you with clothes on was something he couldn’t understand.

“I’ll be here in the morning, I promise,” Jake pulled the comforter over the two of you, noticing that you were still clutching his personal blanket with a vengeance.

It took him a moment to notice you were already asleep, hand pressed against his chest as you breathed softly.

Things would be alright in the morning, you’d both discuss what happened, and Jake would let Marc take over so he could go to work.

Everything would be just fine.

#jake lockely x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley my beloved #jake lockley fluff #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockely #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight #moon knight fic

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mc-lukanette · 4 years ago

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Hear me out... Scarlet Lady AU, but it’s Lukanette

(takes place after “Captain Hardrock”)

Luka hunched over his guitar, only for another sting of pain to hit his back. He groaned, straightening up instead, but that somehow made the soreness even worse. Juleka chuckled at him from her place on her bed, having long since given up on moving her muscles at all and preferring to laze around.

He shot her a glare, but didn't comment so as to not encourage her. As he'd predicted, they were indeed sore from trying to stop the Liberty yesterday, his arms wordlessly complaining whenever he tried to do anything with them. He didn't regret it, but it'd also made making new songs a hassle, worsened by the fact that he'd very much gotten inspiration courtesy of Marinette.

After trying to ignore the soreness for around ten minutes, he heard a set of footsteps from above deck, from someone who was clearly heading down below. He knew they couldn't have been his mother - the signature "clack" of her boots sounded much different - but it also seemed somewhat familiar.

He realized it a bit too late, just in time for Marinette to get downstairs and pop her head into the room. "Hi!"

He sucked in a breath as subtly as possible, maintaining his poker face as he replied, "Hey."

"Hey," Juleka greeted, rotating her arm just enough to wave and clearly not wanting to put in more effort than that. She didn't even turn her head.

Luka chuckled. "Jule's busy today if you needed her for something."

"Shut up," she hissed. "It was your idea."

"Huh?" Marinette asked, looking back and forth between the two. "Oh! No, I was here to see Luka, actually—not that I'm not happy to see you too, Juleka! Just..." She grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of her head.

Marinette was there... to see him? Not his sister?

Luka glanced down, confirming that he was still wearing pants and therefore this wasn't a dream about to go horribly wrong.

Juleka's eyes flicked over to the two of them, her head having to actually move to do so. She squinted, like she was analyzing something, then groaned and slammed her hands down on the bed. She pushed herself up, clearly ignoring the way her body protested, then began her walk across the room.

Just before she reached the doorway, she leaned back to make eye contact with Marinette, warning her, "Careful with him. He's creaking like the floorboards."

Luka shot Juleka a glare, but she'd already zipped out of the room before he could blindly grab his pillow to throw at her.

For being so sore, you sure got away quickly, he thought, very much aware that she left because him being mushy with Marinette (also known as "normal and understandable because look at her") was "gross."

Marinette's eyes followed Juleka until the retreating footsteps could be heard moving up deck, then turned back to Luka. "Creaking?"

"Ah—" Well, there went any hope of avoiding that topic. "We used Chat's baton yesterday to stall the ship, but it was hard even with all seven of us. We're all still a little sore from it."

She furrowed a brow, like something had confused her, but then shook her head and replied, "Oh, that really does sound tough! I'm sorry I couldn't be there!"

"It's okay." He smiled reassuringly, remembering what he'd been told before. "You were the one who got Marigold there. She saved us."

Her cheeks turned pink and he vaguely wondered if it was obvious how cute he thought - knew - she was. She ducked her head, then did a small wiggle of her hips before abruptly looking back up at him. "Um—! That's actually what I came to talk you about? I mean—not Marigold—or her saving you—or me and Marigold—but—"

Luka snorted, lightly patting the spot on his bed next to him instead of replying. The familiar gesture caught her attention, her voice trailing off as she slowly made her way over to sit next to him. She toyed with her fringe, seeming to get her words in order, then turned to look at him.

"I never got to thank you," she said. When he tilted his head in confusion, she clarified, "I wouldn't have been able to call Marigold if you hadn't saved me."

He smiled warmly at her. "It was nothing, Marinette."

"No, really, you thought so quick!" she insisted, leaning towards him with her hands flat on the mattress to support herself. "And you stayed behind too to make sure Captain Hardrock was fooled! That was brave of you."

He leaned away, face flushing red as he tried to control the stupid grin on his face. "Thanks. You were really brave too, finding a way out to get Marigold's attention."

He didn't tell her that he purposefully didn't hide with her because the sound of his heartbeat would've given their hiding spot away.

Marinette beamed at him, but seemed to realize how close she'd been leaning and pulled back with a sheepish grin. Luka returned to his original position too, but flinched when his spine rejected the movement with a spike of pain. He let out a mix of a groan and a sigh, Marinette's brows raising in concern.

"I could give you a massage...?"

The headstock of Luka's guitar hit the bed as he jerked his head up, the instrument in his lap forgotten as he stared ahead at Marinette, eyes wide. She was looking back at him with a blank expression, like she hadn't fully realized what she'd said.

Then, it hit her, and he swore he saw her pigtails bounce up in shock as her face shifted to realization.

"I-I just—I mean—!" She flailed her arms at him. "See, my papa always does it for my maman and—when you groaned like that it reminded me of it—so—"

The fact that she'd compared his bones to those of an aging adult went ignored in favor of noticing that she hadn't even tried to take the offer back. His heart pounded like the inside of his body was a brand new drumset, and he could only utter a weak, "Okay," in reply.

She'd still been rambling at the time, but somehow his voice managed to break through. She paused mid-sentence, her mouth still open as she processed his answer. "...Really?"

He merely nodded, not trusting his voice to avoid cracking if he tried to respond.

"Oh. Um, alright, oh..." she mumbled to herself, clearly having not expected to get this far.

Luka felt the bed shift underneath him as Marinette maneuvered herself behind him, at which point it really hit him that she was seriously about to massage him. He leaned forward, mentally preparing himself, though was quickly reminded of the guitar still resting in his lap. He pulled it off and set it where Marinette had originally been sitting, resting his hands in front of himself afterward.

The silence dragged for a moment, and he could sense Marinette's eyes on him, as if she were debating with herself on how to go about massaging him. He opened his mouth to give her an out, but all manner of coherent speech left him as her hands pressed into his back, thin fingers sliding along his shoulders and squeezing. He sucked in a breath, oxygen having a hard time getting into a body already stuffed full of feelings.

It was heaven, and added several sheets worth of music that he desperately needed to write.

"I-is this alright?" she asked. "Am I doing well?"

He tried to reply, but all that left his mouth was a sound that was both inhuman and embarrassing. Pressing one hand into the mattress, he covered his mouth with the other, his face turning red as he briefly debated on living in the drawer underneath his bed in lieu of having a hole to crawl into.

He changed his mind. It was hell. She was doing amazing but that was the problem and it was hell.

Marinette giggled, the sound he made apparently being answer enough for her as she continued massaging him. Her embarrassment had left by that point and he couldn't help being jealous of it, as his own had doubled.

After a few seconds had passed, Marinette spoke up again, "So, ah..."

He wasn't sure if she genuinely had a question or was trying to spare him, but he'd take it either way. "Mm?"

"I was wondering. Since Jagged's your favorite singer, what do you think of XY?"

He let out another sound, less involuntary than the last at least, though it was still too high-pitched to make anyone believe that he wasn't affected by Marinette's motions. He cleared his throat, making sure he sounded as normal as possible before answering, "The flaws in his music stick out like his hair."

The hands on his back froze, Marinette snickering and then full-on laughing. "Oh, you think so too?"

He grinned like the fool he was, tempted to look back at her but feeling like it'd be rude. "Yeah. I can't stand his music."

"Me neither. It's so... bland and uninspired."

The mental image of them drop-kicking XY into the Seine together entered his mind, a blissful sigh escaping him just in time for Marinette to restart her massage.

"You're really passionate about music," she observed, almost sounding as if she'd been talking to herself. "It almost makes me wish I played an instrument."

"I can give you lessons," he blurted out, then immediately backpedaled with an, "if you want, anyway."

Her tone lightened. "Thanks. I might have to take you up on that. Just... not when I'm so busy."

He shrugged his shoulders, both of which already felt infinitely better under her touch. He could tell she wasn't lying, so he wasn't offended by the hesitance.

As her hands trailed down his back and he tried not to look as if every touch was sending his heart on tour, she hummed thoughtfully, like her body was there but her mind was elsewhere.

"...Hey," she called. He waited, knowing that there was something else, and she continued, "Have you ever... been stuck between songs?"

"Stuck between songs?" he echoed, trying to piece together what she meant.

"Yeah, like—" She made an unsure sound - unfortunately not an embarrassing one like his when she pressed into his lower back - then clarified, "—maybe there are a few songs you like, and it's hard picking your favorite? Or you have some songs you want to write, but don't know which one to go with?"

He got the distinct feeling that she wasn't talking about music, but it was adorable how she worded it in a way relating to his specialty so he could help her. He mulled over the question seriously, the most difficult task just being drawing enough focus away from her movements so he could answer her.

"A few times," he replied. "It all comes down to feeling then. My favorite song or the one I want to write could just be which one I'm curious about."

"What do you mean?"

"Well—" He blushed faintly, completely unaware that his metaphors were syncing with hers. "—a song that I want to know more about; to listen to over and over until I know it intro to outro. A song that makes me want to keep writing." He glanced over his shoulder at her, hoping the eye contact might help carry the meaning along. "I think those are the best kinds."

Her brows were furrowed in thought, as if he'd given her a hard equation that she was struggling to solve. He faced forward again to hide his smile when he noticed the spark of recognition in her eyes, like the metaphor had stuck and he'd actually helped her.

"I think I get it," she confirmed, the massage briefly stopping as she made idle circles on his back; still equally as distracting if he were honest. Even though he couldn't see her face, he could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "I like this one."

"What one?" he asked obliviously, though she didn't answer the question and pressed into his back again, making him squeak and forget his curiosity altogether.

The conversation ended there, lulling into something peaceful and comfortable. Luka actually found himself relaxing without much embarrassment, though there was still some pink to his face from his newfound crush giving him a massage. He just hoped he could make it through the rest of their time together without her realizing what a mess he was.

Then, as if something had occurred to her, Marinette noted casually, "Oh, I should do your arms next."

Luka's face burned. This girl was going to kill him.

#type: story #story: oneshot #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #((Zoe: *welcomes Lukanette AUs of her AU*))#((me: Say no more.))

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sakuurae · 7 years ago

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wooo, for the drabble thingy: yuta + 71, please!

Prompt: “You don’t get to pick and choose. You’re stuck with me.”

yuta & reader insert; royalty!AU; 1.4k wordsdrabble game

i hope this is okay ;; i just woke up and was torn on what au to write so i chose one randomly and i hope it went well ;;;;

During spring days the blossom of a plethora of flowers would typically be at their peak. It was the only reason why the fresh season was an easy favorite: the new sights, excursions of nature commenced. It was also the time of year where the kingdom’s Spring festival would occur, and its purpose was to celebrate the welcome of new beginnings and upbringings. Every year you looked forward to the festival, for it was one of your favorite events held within your kingdom, and this upcoming year was to be no different.

Well, you planned for it to not be divergent than the rest. Your family had other plans they never informed you about until then.

It was a given that you were the heir to the family kingdom; you qualified to take the throne; you were of maturity. Right, during the Spring festival kingdoms would announce who the princess has chosen to marry and hold upon the weight of the kingdom with. The thought of that future requirement never rang in your mind, almost as if the day would never come—like it was nonexistent to you. But, standing amidst the thick air within the grand ballroom of your castle, you heard the words you thought you would never hear.

With an semi-familiar face standing before you, your face contorted in disgust and annoyance. It was the prince from the eastern kingdom—the section of the continent that your own kingdom had a horrible impression of. What was him and his family doing in your own sector, of all places? Then, it dawned upon you.

Word went around that prince like a wildfire, and they typically was not pretty. War stories and parades of this success would be the talk of each village—oh, and his disastrously handsome face.

Your father snapped you back to reality as you were too busy welling in your revulsion towards the prevailing prince; he called your name in a manner that made it seem like he was attempting to get your attention for aeons. With the obnoxious prince right in front of you, he probably was.

“(y/n),” your father called once more. “It is mid-summer and the springtime festival will occur the following year.”

“Oh gods…” you trailed off. Your eyes roamed the gargantuan ballroom; you searched for a distraction away from the living news before you.

“It is about time we discussed your marriage,” your father said with a breath. He puffed his chest out, high and mighty to make his authority prominent. You bit onto your tongue to hold a sour comment away, its bitterness dissipating into nothingness. You narrowed your gaze onto the looming crystal chandelier that hanged from the center, anticipating the announcement you were not able to fight back.

“This”—he held out an arm, guiding you to the noxious prince—“is Nakamoto Yuta. He will be your suitor, unannounced to the public until the spring festival.”

You emptily stared at your father, the annoyance sketched on your face and limpid to everyone’s eyes. “You’re kidding,” you let out. “I knew it would be in regards to the topic of… marriage, but I did not expect it to be with”—you caught a look at the prince, locking eyes with his own—“him of all people!”

Your parents exchanged a clueless glance, unable to see the issue. Surely they had heard of the stories of Prince Yuta as well, viewing it under a positive light. They would hear his war stories, relish in the victory he had brought the continent during critical periods—they had a positive image of the poisonous prince, and an optimistic outlook of your incoming future with him. Little did they know about the bitter sentiments you truly felt towards the man.

Yuta’s family appeared taken aback and your mother assured them by claiming it was your sour sense of humor. Yuta titled his head. “What’s so horrendous about me?” he asked innocently. “We have the strongest war forces, the—“

You cut him off before he was able to boast, “What about Prince Jaehyun? I actually get along with him and we see him often. He knows a lot about medical herbs and studies the history of our monarchs, he’s well educated.”

“Are you saying I’m not?” Yuta questioned.

“Or Prince Doyoung?” you continued your ramble. “He cares about his kingdom and those within the village. Can’t we choose one of my friends? Any one of them, but not…”

Yuta sighed. “How could a pretty face have such a sour personality?”

“Look who’s talking,” you bit back. “You and your out-of-proportion victory stories—”

“At least I have victory stories,” he interjected. “The only things I hear about you in my kingdom is how pretty, calm, and kind you are to everybody—which is boring, and apparently false. You have quite the mouth along with beauty. Do those come hand in hand?”

You crossed your eyebrows together; your insides heated up with a flame of fury, no longer wanting to put up with his petulant prods at you any longer. “At least what goes around about me is positive. You know, for a prince you aren’t very prince-like. Where’s the manners?”

“(y/n),” you father said in a calming voice. “You need to understand.”

You rolled your eyes and allowed your father to continue.

“The Nakamoto family does indeed have the strongest war forces, but that does not matter. It is the location of their kingdom and how it goes well with ours. If the two kingdoms were to combine then a greater influence would form, and each kingdom would come together to form multiple trade routes, which would aid both of us.”

You clenched your teeth at the information. Gods, he was not wrong. If the entire plan went on without fail then there would be no power to stop the combined kingdom forces. But... Prince Yuta—of all individuals? You would rather marry a peasant, if anything.

“Can’t we try that with Prince—“

“Listen up, princess,” Yuta chimed in and took a step closer to you. “You don’t get to pick and choose, alright? You’re stuck with me the way I’m stuck with you.”

His attitude disgusted you the way the sight of his face had. Your mind was not able to wrap around the fact that you had the time period from now to the spring festival to stick yourself by Yuta’s side. "You're telling me I have to deal with this brash man until... when?"

"Probably all of eternity," he informed nonchalantly, teasing you whilst testing the waters. He cocked his head as he broke the news out, an eyebrow raising in an authoritative manner. You groaned; there was a empty pit in your stomach that dragged your entire being down like a blackhole, and immense amount of dread was seeping out from its expanse. The prince read into your reaction, laughing and finding amusement.

You eyed him, giving him another stern look as you perused his features. With him laughing like a young child, he would mistakingly be read as an approachable, kind prince—one that you would be willing to come to know. Frankly, if he was feigning such a jocular persona half the time he would not appear all too bad—stray him away from you as well.

Yuta stop his fit of bubbly laughter and wiped the corner of his eyes with his index finger. He exchanged a mutual look with your father before locking eyes with your own again, assuring you of your worries in the worst possible way. "Don't worry, princess. You have your whole life to get to know me better."

"Might as well banish me from this kingdom..." you muttered.

Yuta laughed again and you were not able to help but adore the melodious tune emitting from a sour being—a sore contrast. You sighed and gave everything further thought.

On Spring days typically flowers would bloom, new sights and beginnings would commence—it was why the season was a simple favorite.Until then, it was nothing more but a dreadful time of the year that was followed with horrible forebodings.

#Mid-writing this i realized i might possibly be able to turn this into a full fic... haha #it might be better as one too...#ill think about it now; anyway i hope this will be fine for now ;;#nct #nct fluff #yuta fluff #nct yuta #nct scenarios #yuta scenarios #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct fanfic #yuta fanfic #i might delete this later ;; depends on how i feel #writing game #writing #ewuta #messages

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mehphoobia · 4 years ago

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Hello! Can you write a fic where Shawn and Y/n were childhood friends who always had feelings for one another but never acted on it, Shawn is a werewolf and Y/n can be any supernatural being. They're mates but before they get to learn about that, that is when they're 18 or something, Y/n leaves the town for some reason after shawn and Y/n had a little fall out and basically the story is like...she comes back to town and they fic their relationship and stuff... Its a weird request I know😭😭😭 can this possibly be a story?

Your request is my command my dear anonymous..I don't see why can't it be a story...your request is beautiful. 😊😉

DEAL

Pairing- werewolf!shawn x witch!reader

Warnings-none (i got emotional while writing it )

_____________________________🤍______________________________

You were eight when you moved to a new town. It may look like an ordinary town but it wasn't. It was an ordinary town, only full of werewolves.

Like any other kid you were excited for your first day. You got up early that day brushed your teeth, used your favorite shampoo and especially no tantrums while eating your breakfast. Your father looked wide eyed at you shoving food down your throat. Well getting you to eat was his job and he was painfully aware as to how difficult that would be. But today was different.

You looked like a happy pumpkin bouncing on the streets. Your mother couldn't help smile when your father looked at her while scrunching his nose to point how adorable you looked. Your father warned you that the school here might be different from what you had earlier. You nodded your head as he walked you to the school.

Being different was not a problem but being the only one who was different might be a tricky situation. Your entire class was full of werewolves. Naturally you attracted some attention to yourself. You felt shy when their eyes dug into your soul. But there was this one guy, all smiles. He wouldn't stop smiling at you. After some time it became contagious. You couldn't help but smile too. So you decided to sit next to him.

During the break, he turned to you with a butterfly origami and put it on your table. "Hey my name is Shawn. You are going to be my best friend. Deal?" he said as he extended the butterfly to you. You chuckled as to how hard he was trying to hide his authorative nature. "Deal, my name is Y/N." you said as you took the butterfly and looked at it.

As the years went by, you grew up to be just like Shawn. When other girls were busy gossiping about others, you were interested in basketball. Most girls would wear tight fitting dresses, comfy jeans and sweatshirts were your best-friends, and only God knows how may of them would be Shawn's. That guy loved seeing you in his T-shirts.

"Would you be there?" you asked as you looked at the night sky while the both of you laid on the grass. "Have I never?" he nudged your nose, referring to your tournament that you had the next day. "No and that's why I love you." you said with ease not knowing what it meant. He looked towards your direction and smiled a bit. The only thing that hadn't changed was his smile. He had smooth golden skin with a well built body, with curls dangling on his forehead. His golden eyes that shun in the moonlight and a jaw line so sharp it could cut through paper. He could easily be the most attractive guy you had ever seen. You weren't the only one who found him attractive though.

Girls ogled at him when walked through the halls. But he never had eyes for any of them. He should be out there socializing with people as he was going to be a part of pack elections. "You are special" he would say every time you asked him why were you the only person in school he ever hanged out with.

On the day of the tournament, you were standing inside the court as you looked for Shawn. He was there with his girlfriend, Kate who was only busy showing him off on her instagram. "All the best! pumpkin" Shawn mouthed, "Ice cream later. Deal?" you mouthed him back. he laughed and said, "Deal."

The game began with a whistle and the ball with your team members. They passed it to you and bam! shot. The crowd roared when the ball went inside the hoop. Minute after minute hoops were being scored and your team could practically smell victory. All those months of practice came down to a penalty shot. There you stood, dribbling the ball and aimed for the hoop. Before shooting you looked at Shawn who smiled at you in reassurance. The crowd was on their heels when the ball went through the hoop. Your team members had engulfed you when the whistle blew. You looked for Shawn to tell him that the ice cream would be his treat but then you saw him.

His lips were locked with Kate's. They were kissing each other so passionately as if they were always meant to be. Then it struck you, Shawn had a mate. A person who has waited all their life for Shawn and just because you liked him, you couldn't hold on to him forever. He was not meant to be yours.

You didn't realize when you sunk in the crowd and took an exit. You plunged on your bed, just staring at your ceiling. You ignored Shawn's messages and calls as you switched off your phone.

"Honey bear? All good?" your mother asked you as she took a seat next to yours. "Yeah, mom just tired" you got up sitting on your bed. "Oh come on, tell me." she enquired as she caressed your head.

"Mom--" you trailed off as she stopped you mid-sentence. "Shawn kissed a girl?" your mother asked with astonishment. "How did you know?" you questioned back, wide eyed.

"I am a witch Y/N." she said uninterestingly. You talked to your mother about the entire incident and your feelings towards Shawn. Your mother smiled and told you that maybe you should take a break.

"Take a break?" you squealed. "Y/N you are 17, you have to train how to control your powers. What if you just put a curse on someone or what if you start hearing people's thoughts? That can be very disturbing trust me." your mother explained. You were shocked but this seemed to be a perfect idea to get away from these things, to think where you stood with Shawn, to get things back to normal.

Your family helped you pack your stuff and you still hadn't talked to Shawn. You were gonna go for a year, complete you high school online and Shawn should know this but you knew you wouldn't be able to leave after you meet him. So you decided to leave just like that. You clutched your hoody, Shawn's hoody as you passed through his house. All those ice cream treats, treks, knowing each other's breakfast order by heart, all those origami pieces Shawn made for you that you had kept safely in a box under your bed they had to mean something. They meant a lot to you and you had to know if they meant to him as well.

Shawn was worried. you hadn't talked to him for three days. He decided to talk to you in school but when he saw your mother emptying your belongings in a bag, he rushed to ask her what was going on.

Before he could even begin your mother said, "You should have told her Shawn." she turned to face him. "Mrs. L/N if this is about the kiss-" "you should have told her you both are mates." she stopped Shawn while he was speaking. "Where is she?" he asked with desperation in his voice. "She left for her training. You wouldn't be seeing each other for a year" you mother explained. It was very painful for her to watch the evergreen smile which adorned Shawn's face disappear.

Although he was confident you would come back to him. After all you were mates for a reason. He dated girls in school just to stop malicious rumors about him and he didn't like how girls threw themselves in front of him. So he dated girls just for a distraction. It was going to be a hell of a year. Little did he know it was going to be even worse of you.

You practiced during the day endlessly. Spent your days in the library. But it wasn't the day that was trouble. Ever since you had left Shawn's embrace your peaceful nights were replaced by visions. Visions full of memories that weren't even yours. Memories of Shawn, how would it be to have him in your life forever. They were dreams in some sort of way but it hurt too much, imagining something to be yours when you knew that something, someone wasn't supposed to be.

A year passed away dreadfully. Every day it was Shawn in your head and half way across the town you were in his. When you saw your mother after an year, you hid yourself in her embrace. She brushed her hand through your hair, which had grown longer. Funny how the time had passed getting the feminine side of yours. What freaked you out was looked exactly like the person in your visions.

The town looked exactly the same as if you had travelled back in time. You opened the car's window to breathe in the delicate fragrance of wet grass and you sensed him. His earthy smell, his warm embrace. You breathed in the familiar smell as you stepped down the car. One year of feelings, tears that you had held back in you gave up and wet your pink tinted cheeks. You started following the smell and you knew exactly where it headed, to the lawn where Shawn and you spent your evenings together. Could you ever forget it? No because you loved him with all your heart.

Then you saw him. It was like your vision had come alive. His hair grew longer which rustled as the wind blew. The moment he caught your scent he turned to you and the next moment you were running towards him. He held you as if you would disappear the next moment if he didn't.

"Y/N I am sor--" he said and you cut him off. "Shh, Don't say anything." you whispered through your tears. you loved the man who was always there for you. All this time when you thought it was just a crush it wasn't. You were ready to tell him you lo--

"I love you" he suddenly said making you flinch. "You were going to say that weren't you?" he smiled as he brushed his hands through your hair. "How did you?" you gawked at him. He nudged your nose as he said, "You are my mate Y/N. I have known this since the moment I saw you. I have been having visions of you since. I love you and I always have and always will and nothing, no one can change that. " he whispered as he reached the end of his sentence.

He kissed you as he cupped his cheeks. The moment his lips touched yours, you closed your eyes and saw a little girl playing in Shawn's arms. Shawn saw it too and the tears that shun like diamonds flew down his cheeks. Never breaking the kiss he caressed your cheeks. That's when you knew they weren't just memories they were visions of your future together that you would share. You looked at him filled your heart with his embrace.

"You still owe me that ice cream treat." you chuckled as you coiled your arms around his waist.

"Deal" he smiled as he kissed your forehead.

_____________________________🤍______________________________

A/N: Oh what a beautiful request . You guys are so creative with your plots, it just makes me so happy. there are a lot of werewolf fics which are similar to this plot but this request bars was new in its own way. Thank you for letting me write this and i hope my dear anonymous finds this fic satisfying.

REQUESTS OPEN, so go ahead, flood my mailbox, its all your anyways.

Love yourself...you are worth it ❣❣

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Rock N Roll People In A Disco World

Part 5- Nobody Dance On A Sad Disco

Intro: Paul doesn’t react well when your logical and practical side suggests you postpone your wedding…

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 7k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 4

"I just don't understand why you think this is such a big frickin' deal, Paul." You said with exasperation. This argument had been carrying on for a good twenty minutes and so far, the only thing you'd accomplished was going in circles like a NASCAR driver.

“You don’t understand?” He scoffed, hands on his hips, “seriously? You don’t see why I’m slightly pissed off you wanna postpone our wedding?” "You can't continue to tell me that not pushing everything back a few months makes the most sense right now. In a month’s time we were supposed to be going away for our stags, and since..... since... you.... This is just what's better for..."

"Y/N, you do still want to get married don't you?" He interrupted. The strain in his voice was evident from both use and emotion.

"What kind of fucking question is that?" Now you were raging. The absolute audacity of him to even ask that. “Well it's non-rhetorical.” “Of course I still want to get married, you fucking moron!” You growled. "Then explain to me wh.." his voice cracked out and he breathed harshly through his nose. “That!” You gestured to him. “That is why!” "So it hurts a little, it's fine. For fucks sakes, I'm fine," his voice was entirely strained from arguing, his chords stretch to their limit. “No, you’re not.” You shook your head before you took a deep breath and pinched your nose. “Paul, I want our wedding to be a day we both look back on in years, decades even, to come and still love every minute of it...” "And we will!" “Right, okay, so your voice fails during our vows or your speech and you’re gonna be okay with that, huh?” You put your hands to your hips and waited for his reply. "No. I mean, I don't know." "My point exactly." You flung a hand up in his direction. “But it’s another eight weeks off, plenty of time, I might be fine.” He shrugged you off like he could make it happen. You knew it wasn't possible. It had only been a week since he'd said your sweet nickname as clear as day and while more and more words were stronger and phrases longer and more clear, you knew him better than that and you knew he wasn't ready no matter how much he wanted to pissingly argue with you that the two of you could move forward as if his shooting were nothing.

"Might. Key word." You sighed, clearly frustrated to the point of tears as they welled and stung your eyes. “Okay, fine.” His hands flew out to his side. “Have it your way, call the venue and cancel.” Gritting your teeth, you replied, “I don’t want to fucking cancel, Paul, I just want to move it!” “You know how long in advance we had to book that place, Y/N, it could be another year before they have an opening again.” “Then we wait another year!” You sighed dramatically, “in the grand scheme of things what does it matter? Today, tomorrow, twelve months, it all amounts to the same thing.” "It matters to me, Y/N." “Okay... fine. Let’s keep the date.” She shrugs. “Let’s just go for it and when you can’t speak and start to get frustrated we’ll write our vows on a pad of paper. Or, better still how about we learn sign language?” “You’re a sarcastic bitch.” “Yeah? And you’re a stubborn asshole.”

There was a long, angry pause between the two of you, harsh jabs and insults now floating painfully in the air. The two of you glared at one another. Both of you furrowing your brows and chewing on the insides of your mouths. Then, you sighed, again with a harsh tone. "God damned it, I hate this. I hate that we’re even having to have this conversation but we are. You were shot! You were moments from death and-“ "And now it's my fault?" He shrieked at a higher pitch than his voice typically was. “Oh for the love of- I didn’t say that!” You balled your hands into fists, your body visibly shaking. “So what are you saying?” “I’m saying that given everything that’s happened, pushing the second biggest day of my life back is the least of my fucking concerns, Paul.” Now you were tearfully arguing, your eyes red as was the tip of your nose. You blinked hard to attempt to show your strength, not wanting to back down. “Second biggest?” “Yes, the second. Because when you...I mean the...” you swallowed back the sob that threatened to scream from you, so you choked in it. “The first was when they told me you were going to live.”

At your words, Paul blinked a little, his mouth opening before it snapped shut again and you shook your head, continuing to talk. “I know you’re hurting and struggling with all of this and it isn’t what you want but it hasn’t been easy for me, either.” You sniffed, the tears now falling from your eyes. “I might not have been the one that took a bullet to the neck but I had to sit there and watch you, barely able to live but fight so hard to stay and all I could think about was the fact I might have to live without you and for that reason alone I’d have changed places with you in a fucking heartbeat.” Your face scrunched up with heavy emotion that you'd held onto for weeks.

“Y/N....” he tried to take a step toward you, but the damage was done for the night. You were done. “Seeing you there, in that bed, wondering if you were gonna make it or not, it was the worse time of my life. So, yeah, frankly I don’t care when we say I do, but it can't happen the way we want it to right now. You’re alive. That’s enough for me. And right now, well it should be for you too.”

You turned on your heel and quickly left the living room. You slammed the bedroom door shut and leaned your back against it whilst you allowed your exterior to fully collapse. You buried your face in your hands as you sobbed. This wasn't what you wanted, you'd expected a better reaction from him as you'd hoped he'd have seen things the same way as you, but you were wrong.

Now, all that was left was to go to bed. You had no fight left, no drive and right now, you didn't want to make up.

Eventually, you crawled into bed and moved no further. Sleep weighing on you heavily.

****

When he'd watched her go, Paul was floored. The things she'd said to him had gone unspoken since he'd been home from the hospital. He knew it had been hard on her, the both of them, what he'd gone through but he'd never imagined how she'd have felt given she was always such a strong woman and that was one of the things he adored most about her.

In frustration, he rubbed his hands over his face and decided he needed a walk. He walked around the neighborhood and back, taking in the cool air, realizing the fall weather was upon them. Shit, fall, the holidays were creeping up on them and he'd hadn't even given it a thought.

It didn't matter, what mattered was the incessant need to push their wedding back another year, was his best guess, and that killed him. It wrecked him and he found himself getting angry all over again. He wanted to marry her now, drag her down to the Justice of the Peace and take her as his bride the minute the courthouse opened. So now, why, all of a sudden did she not want to do even so much as that. Was it cold feet? Was it him? What had happened to him? Was she ashamed of him being unable to speak? She said it was nothing of the sort but it didn't stop the thoughts from weighing on him.

When he got back to their apartment, he found Y/N fast asleep in their bed, her back to his side of the bed. He hated that they were going to bed like this. He didn't believe in it, and if he was honest with himself, this was the first time this had ever happened in the span of their relationship. He was a firm believer in his parents golden rule, never go to bed angry and always kiss each other goodnight. Tonight he didn't get to do either.

With a sigh, he pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it in the direction of the hamper in the corner of the room but it didn’t quite make it. Instead, it dropped about a foot or so away, ironically right on the spot where he’d dropped to one knee that November evening almost three years ago…

She'd stood in the bathroom across the hall getting ready for their dinner date, listening to him chatter on in their bedroom about whatever it was as he dressed for the night. It was mid-week and they'd both managed to be off in time for a dinner date. Paul had wanted to make it fancy, something special.

"Do you know what today is?" He asked as he tied his tie in the mirror that stood in the corner of their room.

"Er, Wednesday," she replied, loud enough for her voice to carry.

"Of course, but try again," there was a hint of humor to his voice, sarcasm at best.

"Date night," she giggled.

"Nope." He breathed out a nervous, shaky breath. A full two strides and he stood in front of their chest of drawers, pulling open his sock drawer, reaching for the small box in the back.

"I give up."

He chuckled anxiously and closed the drawer. "Our anniversary." He took a knee, opening up the small box and waited.

"What? No, that's not for a few more months," she said with a smile as she walked across the hall and into the doorway of their room. Her hands were at her ear, adjusting her earring.

She gasped seeing him on one knee, his eyes smiling but his hands shaking as he held out the ring box. The lid open to show her what he was asking.

"Also true, but no. At exactly this minute, twenty-one months ago," he checked his watch, "I responded to a call for backup and my life changed forever. I met this woman who I just couldn't let go and that same woman took her time in giving me a chance. But I knew from the moment she kissed me that nothing would ever be the same. I fell in love that night, and I knew I wanted to make her mine, to keep on loving her forever. That is, if you'll have me forever?"

He watched as her eyes began to pool with tears as her own shaky hands covered her mouth as he spoke, a nervous silence crossing the room as she seemingly processed everything he'd said.

Tearfully, she replied, "yes, absolutely, yes!"

Tears welled up in his beautiful blue eyes as he stood, and pulled the ring from its box, slipping it on with jittery fingers over the knuckles of her ring finger before he crashed his lips into hers for a deep, happy kiss. "I love you so much, Sugar."

With their foreheads pressed sweetly together, they both cried a little.

"Tell me about it, Stud." She smiled.

They were late to dinner that night, both of them showing up glowing. But his surprises hadn't ended there, no. He'd had both their parents waiting on them for their eight o'clock dinner reservations to celebrate their new good fortune. It was a night he'd never forget, not ever.

Paul glanced down at the ring on his girl’s finger as she slept. Her left hand just close enough to her face so it wasn't obscured as she still lay with her back to him while her right lay tucked up under her pillow. The five raw cut diamonds were set in white gold, a center stone with two diamonds on each side. The center cut wasn't gargantuan and it didn't need to be. She knew how hard he'd worked to buy her the simple design with the small stones it held.

He'd wanted to upgrade it the month he'd solved his first case as a detective but she'd denied him, explaining that it didn't matter how big or fancy it was, the first one was special because of all the thought and effort he'd put forth to even consider her as his wife.

With a sigh he bowed his head and turned to go wash up, before he climbed into bed, Y/N’s back still facing him and he lay awake, looking at the ceiling until finally, an hour or so later, sleep finally took him.

**** The next morning your alarm went off for the first time in weeks. With a groan you hit the button to silence it and cracked open a sore, tear swollen eye, it was still dark outside. You rose, heading on auto-pilot to the bathroom and showered quickly before you wrapped in a robe and headed in to make yourself some breakfast. Just as you were finishing up, Paul walked into the kitchen and you stood up and left the room, not speaking a word to him, you had nothing else to say.

Unfortunately, your bad mood soured what should have been a happy return to work, a sign that your life was getting back to some form of normalcy. Instead, you were off your game, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Yo, Panny, you come to work or just fucking off?" Rodriguez hollered from behind you as an entire clip of used bullets lay at your feet, still hot from firing. You slammed your hand against the button that brought your target to you, all but four shots missing the target. "Fuck off, Ro." "Y/L/N!" Captain Rogers shouted from the doorway. "Outside, now." With a grumble, you rolled your eyes and holstered your weapon, but not before changing out the empty clip for a new one. The tone of his voice was not comforting. "You got your ass handed to you on the mats in hand to hand, you couldn't even shoot a decent hand at sniper poker, and now my ace shot, a skilled and decorated marksman, can't sink a suspect in range." Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek as you drew a deep breath. “Sorry Cap, must be a little rusty.” He sighed and shook his head as it dropped disappointingly to his chest. "You're not ready, go home Y/N." "Steve...." "I pushed you too far. Go home, chill the fuck out, take the weekend." You groaned, “I don’t wanna go home.” The petulance evident both in your tone and body language as you folded your arms across your chest. “I'm fine. It's just a rough start." "Go the fuck home, Y/N. Or I'll send the Mrs. after you." You couldn't stand his wife and given your relationship with Steve, it was a credible threat. Karen Rogers was as green as Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West. "I'd call you an asshole but you're my sup so...." "Now, Y/N." “Fine.” You shrugged. “I’ll go back home. Wonderful.” "I didn't miss the sarcasm," Steve called out to your back.

You flipped him the bird as you kept walking.

**** Paul slammed the door to his mom and dad’s house, storming into the kitchen. It had been a shitty morning, with Y/N not speaking to him and then that damned fucking speech and physical therapy he had to endure twice a damned week.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Big Jim looked at him, frowning a little. Paul ignored him and headed straight to the fridge, pulling out a soda.

“Paul, honey, what’s got into you?” Dot asked gently and he sighed, turning to face both his parents who were sat at the bar top, the remnants of a brunch on their plates in front of them. “Y/n wants to postpone the wedding.”

“Ah.” His dad leaned back in his chair. “And let me guess, you don’t?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Language.” His mother chastised and Paul rolled his eyes, as he paced slightly across the kitchen.

“And, you clearly discussed this in your usual, calm and rational manner?” His dad arched an eyebrow. Paul paused for a moment to eye his dad, before he resumed his movements.

With a sigh his mom spoke. “Paul, sit down for a second, quit pacing my kitchen floor.”

“I don’t want to sit down.” He shot back, petulantly.

“Paul Christopher Diskant, you sit your grown butt down, now.” His mother’s tone was sharp and with a groan he pulled a seat out from the breakfast bar, opposite his parents, and flopped down.

“Now, out with it, from the beginning.” His mother instructed and Paul let out another growl of frustration.

“I just told you. She wants to postpone the wedding. I don’t. There’s nothing else to tell you.”

“Don’t sass me!”

“I’m not sassing you, you’re just not fucking listening.”

“Hey, cut the shit. Don't talk to your mother like that.” Big Jim pointed at him, his voice stern. “You might be a grown man but I'll still kick your ass into next week, you little shit.”

Paul took a deep breath, his head hanging slightly. “Sorry Mom. It's been a really crappy couple of days.” At that he snorted. “Crappy couple of weeks one way or another.”

“Oh, Paul. I know it's not been easy.” Dot gave him a gentle smile. “But you're here with us and that's really all we care about.”

“I just feel like Y/N is getting cold feet. And that really sucks.”

“Don't be a dick.” Dot scoffed at his admission of feelings. “That girl has stood by you while you knocked on death's door.” “Mom, did you just call me a dick?” Paul looked at her, his brow raised and she nodded.

“Yes.”

“She’s not wrong.” His dad interjected.

“What is this gang up on Paul day?”

“You’re acting like a spoiled child who just had his best toy taken away.” Big Jim looked at him. “Son, she wants to postpone, not cancel!”

“Well it didn't feel that way last night or this morning. She stormed out for her first day back at work all pissed off I wasn't agreeing with her.”

“And I refer back to my previous observation. Maybe you should have attempted to discuss the issue in a calm and rational manner as opposed to shouting and getting all pissy.” Big Jim observed.

"I’m not pissy, I’m just... look, we've waited twice as long as we wanted to because she loved the venue so much, hell, I loved the venue. That place means a lot to us and it's so perfect. Everything has been perfect until now." He sighed, his voice again weak.

"What was her reasoning?" Dot pressed.

"Me." He said sadly, frustration clearly featured on his face.

"Paul, I highly doubt it's just you."

"She doesn't think I'm ready. Healthy enough. Healed enough. There's till eight weeks, Mom. Eight weeks, I can be so much better by then."

Dot reached across the granite for his hand. He took it, and held tight, like a boy needing his mother.

"My sweet, love sick boy," she softly smirked at him and he rolled his eyes .”Y/N is only thinking about you. She knows how frustrated you get when you struggle to talk and how would you feel if that happened during the vows or speeches? Look, Sweetheart, you’ve waited years for this, what’s another couple of months?”

“Mom, it won’t be a couple of months, there’s no way that place won’t be booked up for at least another year. I just... Is it so bad that I want to marry her right now as we planned?" His voice breaking and cracking. Too much talking.

“No, Son, it's not.” Jim cut in. “But listen to yourself, your struggling to talk now after this conversation. Y/N just wants to have the wedding you both have dreamed of, and spent so much time planning. Don't take that from her or yourself. You'll look back and think, I should have waited, when I was at full strength.”

Diskant looked at his father before he sighed and his shoulders sagged a little. “Seems like I’m out voted.”

"Not out voted, just...." Big Jim couldn't come up with a reasonable example.

But Dot interrupted, "We just think you need to think about this a little more and be open to what's going on."

"Open to what? The fact I’m now not gonna get married for another year coz some asshole shot me in the neck?"

"Paul..."

He shrugged, "Whatever. Guess, I have some rearranging to do."

Automatically, he looked down at his phone and saw that Tom Ludlow was calling. If there were any better time to get off this hamster wheel of an argument it were now. "I gotta take this."

He stepped outside and took his call. An hour later, he was meeting Ludlow at their apartment, fresh bottles of beer in the fridge and two on the coffee table between them.

Ludlow filled him in on exactly what happened after he'd left the scene and Paul behind. He talked about how Biggs was using Ludlow to get to Wander, how Tom had killed his entire unit out of self-defence and in turn discovered all the corrupt shit Captain Wander had on Tom, the unit, multiple officers, judges, councilmen and other local politicians and prominent community leaders. He told Diskant about the stolen money, hidden in the walls of Wander's home and he explained how important Biggs seemed to think Tom was for IA and the department.

It didn't surprise Diskant in the slightest that Ludlow's department was dirty. In fact, he'd half expected it and the realization hit moments before he was shot. The rest of Tom's story however was just insane, insane enough that he joked a movie could be made about it.

That said, Paul trusted Ludlow from the start. And he’d clearly been right about the guy, even if helping him had resulted in him being moments from death. Painful memories aside, it was nice to see him too. They’d been through a lot, but Paul wasn’t dumb enough to figure this was a purely social call. He knew Ludlow felt guilty about what had gone down and that was partly the reason for his visit. But it was misplaced guilt, one Disco was happy to absolve him of.

"Listen, Paul, with what happened, I..."

"Hey, it's okay. Shit happens. I'm alive. I knew what I was getting into, the risks involved. You gave me an out and I didn't take it." His voice rasped a little.

"Felt like I took a kid to a gun fight." Tom sighed, tossed back some of his beer and shook his head with a slight shrug. "But you're one helluva kid. A fucking fighter. You're a good cop, even better detective and I'm sorry I pushed you so far."

“No hard feelings, man.” Disco took a slug of his beer and shook his head as Ludlow made to speak. “I mean it. I knew what I was signing up for the second the call came in. Our jobs are shady as fuck and twice as dangerous.”

“You can say that again.” Ludlow sighed. “Still, what happened was rough, I’m glad you’re through it.”

Disco gave him a smile as they clinked bottles and Ludlow’s eyes scanned the small living room, stopping on the photo on the small shelf above the television. Paul glanced at it, looking at his and Y/N’s smiling faces as they stood in his parent’s back yard, both dressed in casual jeans and t-shirts, taken a few months before he’d been shot. A time when everything had been simpler and his life on track.

“How's the Missus?” Ludlow asked and Paul took a deep breath.

"She's, uh, she's good,” he answered, deciding not to burden Ludlow with details of their argument, “first day back today, getting her ass kicked I'm sure. Rogers told her it was training day."

"That's rough. Rogers is a hard ass.” Ludlow mused before his eyes flicked down to the beer bottle in his hand. “She er, she due back any time soon?"

Paul shrugged, “I wouldn’t expect so. Why you ask?”

“Because I don’t intend to be here when she returns.” Ludlow replied. “She wasn’t very happy to see me last time.”

At that, Paul frowned. “Last time?”

“Did no one tell you I came by the hospital?”

“Well, yeah they mentioned it but-“

“Well your girl packs a mean right hook.” Ludlow ran a hand over his jaw, almost as if he was recalling the punch he was talking about.

“Wait, what? She hit you?” Paul leaned forward, deeply concerned and slightly proud.

Tom nodded, "then said that if you died, I was next."

“Dammed, she’s vicious.” Paul couldn’t help the smirk which flicked onto his face at the thought of his girl landing one on the man sat next on the small armchair opposite him.

But the grin soon faded as it sunk in just how downright upset and distraught she must have been to do that. For all his jokes about her being a hard ass, she wasn’t one to throw punches around for no reason, in fact, given her job, she often did everything she could to avoid altercations in any shape, stating she saw enough of it at work without seeing it in her personal life too.

"Yeah, she is and frightening. But she's got good intentions. I don't fault her. I'd have popped me one too." Ludlow shrugged.

Paul took a deep breath as he pondered what Ludlow had said. His girl had that stupid nickname “Panny” for a reason, nothing much phased her. So for her to be rattled enough to sock Ludlow in the face just goes to show exactly how distraught she had been.

None of that was news to Paul, he knew all of this, and it had been pointed out to him again earlier that day by his parents. And then, in a moment of clarity, he realised that he might be being slightly unreasonable. Whilst logically, a compromise would be to perhaps cancel their current venue and forgo the huge day they had planned and book something smaller and less flashy for a few months down the line, Paul understood that she wanted this to be the best day it could possibly be for both of them. They had fallen in love with the Shutters on the Beach from the start, and had booked it with enough time to save for their dream day, even though they could have done something smaller and been married by now.

But that was a decision they had taken together, and hadn’t taken lightly, understanding that it would mean a long wait until they said “I do”, but that wait would be worth it. So, in the grand scheme of things, whilst he might not completely agree, she was right. Another year or however long made fuck all difference, even if he didn’t necessarily want to postpone, he understood.

And damned, now he felt like a right jerk.

*****

You pulled up to the curb to your duplex and frowned as an unfamiliar black car was parked outside, one you couldn’t recall seeing before. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, resting your head back against the seat as you gave yourself a moment, trying to rid yourself of the frustration of the day.

Rogers was right, you weren't ready to come back. Not yet. Or at least not after the argument you’d had. It frustrated you entirely that this one small thing had spiralled so much as to affect your job. Never, since you'd joined the force, not even since you'd been on S.W.A.T., had you been sent home for misconduct of your behavior. That angered and frustrated you more. And right now, that frustration was leveled firmly at Paul.

You knew he was angry and upset, but so were you. You were thinking logically, wanting your wedding day to be as perfect as it could be for you both, but Paul was blinded by emotion. You understood. Of course you did, it wasn’t like you wanted to postpone, hell you wanted nothing more than to become his wife but it wasn’t worth rushing if it meant that when the time came you could both make those declarations to one another without either of you worrying his voice would give out.

And it irritated you that he couldn’t see that.

Growling out loud and slamming your palms against the wheel, you shook your head. That was when you saw him, you saw the one person you unadmittedly blamed for your mood, your position and your current situation.

"What the... That mother fu..." you stopped yourself, downright pissed at seeing Tom Ludlow leaving your residence.

You waited until Ludlow pulled away before exiting your car, slinging your 'go bag' over your shoulder from the back seat. You didn't miss your fiancé tossing what appeared to be bottles into the recycling bin at the side of the duplex.

He saw you and smiled, but you did nothing to acknowledge his gesture, allowing the screen door to slam behind you.

“Babe?” Paul’s voice called after you as he followed you in. “Sugar, look, I’m sorry-“

“What the fuck was he doing here?” You dropped your bag to the floor of the small hallway and wheeled round to face him.

"What?"

“Don’t play dumb with me! Ludlow, why was he here?” Paul sighed, "He called me while I was at my parents, wanted to come by. We talked for a bit, had a couple of beers and clearly you saw him just leave." There was a pause between you. "Which by the way I heard all about how you decked him in the hospital lobby." "The fucker deserved it. He's lucky you pulled through or I would have killed him. It would have been a clean shot too, non-traceable round. I'm not a marksman for nothing." Paul rolled his eyes, “you’re being ridiculous, this-“ he gestured to his scar, “- was not his fault.” "It was and you know it was. This is all because he didn't think you could do your job on your own." “Bullshit Y/N!” Paul shot back. "He gave me an out and I said no. He told me to go home, but I told him I knew what I was doing." You could see him flush with anger and, at his surprising admission, you were shaking in it. "He what?" "You heard me." "You fucking asshole. You stupid, stupid son of a..." you couldn't bring yourself to talk about Dot like that so you carried on, your anger raging as you railed into him. “How dare you throw that at me? You had every fucking chance to come home and let him take the fuck up on his own and you still went. You still stepped right into the fucking madness when, Tom fucking Ludlow of all the people in the entire fucking department, gave you a chance to come back to me?"

“Stop it Y/N! You know as well as I do, you don't take up the badge and go 'you know what, I might die today, imma sit this one out'!”

He had you there, he wasn't wrong. You literally growled at him, your chest rumbling. Paul sighed, and swallowed, looking down at the floor before he raised his head and licked his lips as he glanced over your shoulder for a moment before meeting your eyes.

“Listen, about the wedding-“

You groaned, “I can’t do this now.”

“Just listen to me, will you?”

“Why? So you can tell me again how you don’t want to change our wedding date? Because of your pride and..."

At that something flashed in his eyes and he took a sharp inhale through his nose.

"My pride?” His voice his voice strained harshly, "Okay, how about we discuss why you do want to change the date because you’re embarrassed. You're embarrassed of me."

His comment floored you momentarily and you frowned. “Is that what you really think? That I’m ashamed of you?”

"Feels like it."

"Pull your God damn head outta your ass, Paul."

“The only person round here with anything up their ass is you, a big fucking stick about Tom Ludlow paying me a visit.” He croaked back. “What, you want me to be sat at home, helpless, waiting for you to come back? Does that fit with the narrative of why you wanna call the wedding off? Poor Paul, he can’t manage much at the moment so-“

“Fuck you!” You screamed back. “Fucking fuck you!”

Your chest heaved, your nostrils flared. You. Were. Done. You moved to leave, but as you made towards the door, his arm shot out and his hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere you’re not!” You spat, wrenching your arm from his grasp.

He grabbed you again, this time by the waist and pinned you to the near-by wall. It wasn't painful or abusive, it was just enough roughness to keep your attention.

“Get off me.” You hissed, attempting once more to rid yourself from his grip.

“Fucking calm down!” He instructed, his hands pinned yours to the wall, his chest lifting away from your body. It reminded you of how he'd treat a suspect, enough force to maintain control but not to hurt.

His words were said through clenched teeth, his own hot breath from his nose flicking your hair a touch, he was so close. His blue eyes, full of fire, blazed into yours as the two of you stood still, chests heaving from the exertion of the shouting and anger.

He was the one to break first as he slammed his lips into yours. It stole your breath as he kept you pinned against the wall.

Eventually he pulled back and you glared at him. “Prick.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed again, his voice breaking before his lips crashed back to yours. His hips ground into yours, keeping you pinned to the wall and it didn’t escape your notice that he was hard. The fucker was turned on.

But, in all honesty, no matter how pathetic it was, his display of dominance had you fluttering slightly but you were damned if you we’re going to show him that.

You felt him release your arms as his hands quickly moved to your work cargos. Your utility belt and flies were no match for his swift movements and you felt the release of their hold on you as the material flew open.

His chest and kiss kept you pinned to the wall as he undid the zipper to his denim and you quickly felt the head of his cock slip between your folds. “Seriously?” You whispered, making no attempt to stop him. “You think a fuck is gonna sort this out?”

He rutted up into you, stuffing himself right inside and jolting your body up the textured paint. The burn and stretch took your breath away, you weren’t as prepared as usual but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

"I said shut up." He growled as your arms swooped around his neck, trying to find purchase to grab and your fingers found the collar of his shirt. You gave a tug, no doubt stretching the collar but you didn't care. He thrust upward and used his hips to keep you in place as he leaned back enough to slip his shirt off, his built chest and less defined abs now on display, that necklace bouncing off his chest from the speed of his disrobing.

His eyes still blazed as you caught them in your own gaze. He looked down right feral, his skin flushed with anger. His hands flew to the hem of your navy uniform tee and in a wrench he had that over your head, his lips dropping to your collar bone and he nipped along the line, stinging bites that would no doubt leave their marks.

“Not so fucking mouthy now, are you Sugar?”

Your only reply was the 'fuck' that escaped your lips at a whimper as he spoke. The rasp of his injury mixed with the deep tone lust did to him had you fluttering in all the right places.

You weren't sure how he'd done it but your boots were unlaced and falling to the floor at his feet with a thud. You barely registered the way his fingers slipped under the hem at the leg of your cargos and slipped your socks away. He was rutting into you with such hard measure, his tongue aggressively and passionately dancing with your own. You felt a rawness against your back from the wall. He stopped kissing and fucking you long enough to tear down your pants and panties the rest of the way, leaving you in your sports bra, your nipples rock hard poking into the material. All whilst his body still pressed hard against you.

With a yelp, he lifted you and carried you the few short steps to the couch, dropping you on your ass and turning you to your knees. You caught just a glimpse of how he looked, chest naked and heaving, tattoos glistening with sweat, that look still raging in his eyes. You wagered you looked about the same because he looked how you felt. His cock glistened with your slick as he slipped right behind you, a knee on the cushion of the couch, the other boot planted into the carpet.

Without a word his hands grabbed your hips, unceremoniously repositioning you before he slammed straight back inside, jolting you forward a little as you cried out, your hands curling round the arm of the sofa, elbows locking to prevent you from falling face first into the cushions.

The angle change along your swollen walls filled you with a deep, rough pleasure and you groaned loudly as his hips rotated in a dirty grind as he bottomed out on one of his thrusts.

"Oh my... fuck..." you stuttered and behind you Paul gave a moan of his own.

“That all you got to say?” He panted, his voice cracking slightly, punctuated by his pants.

“Asshole.” You managed to whisper and with that, Paul grabbed that ponytail you sported and held tight, arching you head back towards him.

“Jesus Christ you just can’t stop can you?” His lips crashed to yours in a sloppy, filthy, tongue filled kiss before splaying his chest over your back, his hot breath against your ear as he made the most pleasurable grunts and moans, his hips pounding back and forth in a relentless rhythm.

He was close, you could feel it in the subtle rhythm change of his hips, his hand on your hip squeezing your skin, bruising it no doubt later.

"Do. It." You punctuated.

“Oh, baby girl , you should know by now,” he growled as his right hand moved from your hip, slipping around your belly and down between your legs, “not. before. you.” In no time at all his fingers had teased you to relief, your back arched as you cried out loudly, the heat and surge of your orgasm washing over you, the world spinning as you crashed over the edge.

He growled your name as he came, filling you but not stopping his relentless thrusts as if he couldn't help the automated way his body had taken over, taken you. You felt how warm your insides were at his spend, no doubt absorbing most of it. You fell forward onto the couch, his body lightly crushing you into the cushions.

As the two of you worked at recovering, his lips brushed over your skin in super soft kisses; along your shoulder, the back of your neck.

The only sound in the room were the two of you breathing heavily, a stark contrast to the screaming match you shared for the last two days. Then you felt his weight shift and a sweet kiss to the back of your neck.

"About the wedding...."

You groaned, after everything you just threw at each other and the most ridiculously, satisfying angry sex you had ever had, he wanted to start back up again. "Please don't. I don't want to argue."

He hushed you and your walls squeezed against him. He let out a low chuckle mixed with a moan. "I’m not." He kissed your shoulder. "Before you came in before like a buck shot grizzly bear, I was gonna say you were right."

You stilled and turned your head to look at Him. “I’m sorry, say that again?” You teased

He smiled and nipped at your neck, "don't be a dick."

He pulled out of you and sat down on the sofa. Your body was jello but you couldn't miss the chance to seize an opportunity to slip him back inside you and simply sit on his lap. He gave a grunt as you kissed him, soft at first, then lolled your tongue over his lips. "I'm sorry too."

“I never said I was sorry.” He playfully chuckled and this time you nipped at him, teeth grazing his jaw.

“Don’t be a dick.”

His hands moved to your hips and then up your back, pulling you against his tacky damp chest.

“Disco?”

“Sugar?”

“You don’t really think I’m ashamed of you, do you?”

"It'd crossed my mind."

"Look at me," you sat up and held his jaw in your palms. "Never, in my entire life will I ever be ashamed of you. You are the absolute strongest, bravest person I know."

"Okay."

You kissed those sweet little moles on his right cheek by his nose and just below his bottom lashes. "I love you like no other, Paul Diskant."

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and that gorgeous soft smile spread across his lips. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a kiss where you knew he'd feel and understand what you meant, what you felt. It was covered by a still healing scar, but he felt everything.

“I only want us to have the day we want, the day we deserve.” You whispered, sniffing a little as you blinked back tears.

"I'll call Shutters tomorrow. See what they can do." He whispered into your hair as he kissed your head.

“Thank you.” You lay your head on back his shoulder, his arms holding you close.

***** Part 6.1

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #reader insert #paul diskant fan fiction #street kings #chris evans #chris evans characters

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sezja · 3 years ago

Note

Still accepting prompts?

“ you deserve everything. ”

But from both sides.

"Impressing your partner on a date" prompts (accepting!)

The thing about finally putting in the effort is that it's godsdamned exhausting. Guydelot groans as he stretches, wandering out of the Quiver's Hold after yet another day of applying himself, truly proving himself a changed man after the events of the Sea of Clouds...

Inevitably, his thoughts drift back to Sanson.

Sanson, the man who gave him a reason to try.

What'll he be doing this time of day? It's early yet by Sanson's clock, Guydelot's come to realize; the dutiful Serpent Captain will likely still be hard at work at the Adders' Nest for bells yet-

"Guydelot!"

Or perhaps he's... right behind Guydelot? Startled, the bard turns, and sure enough, his lover comes hurrying out of the Hold - bright-eyed and fit to burst with some unspoken excitement, only held back by the hyur's fierce sense of propriety... but he is nevertheless practically vibrating in his own skin, so full of delight that Guydelot cannot help but smile.

"Don't tell me you came to hunt me down?"

"We should go to the Carline Canopy tonight," Sanson says, boldly slipping his arm through Guydelot's, tugging him along with an uncharacteristic bounce in his step. "On me. I'm in a celebratory mood."

"Aye?" Curious, Guydelot lets himself be drawn along; far be it from him to decline drinks on someone else's gil. "And what are we celebrating?"

Rather than answering, Sanson beams up at him, squeezing his arm.

And then it all clicks.

"The unit," Guydelot says, stopping in mid-step, seizing Sanson's shoulders and turning the man to face him. "The unit! They approved-"

"I shall receive our first assignment in one week's time," Sanson says, so eager the words come out in a rush, his hands resting on Guydelot's arms. "I... I must needs speak to Jehantel, to determine which of his students are fit for duty..."

They resume walking while Sanson talks - chattering about his plans, his goals going forward, his hope that this unit is but the first; that others will see the utility of bards, and seek to incorporate them into their own squadrons. How he must get word to Mogta at the earliest possible opportunity - oh, and Eve, of course; she will wish to hear of it. Or perhaps he should wait until the unit has been fully recruited before he begins spreading the news? Guydelot lets the tide of it all wash over him, basking in Sanson's joy.

Seeing him alight like this, it's difficult to believe that not so very long ago, Guydelot thought Sanson had no heart.

The Canopy is only just beginning to fill for the night, and they're able to snare a quiet corner, away from prying eyes. Officially speaking, Sanson might not be his superior officer just yet, but that'll be changing soon. Very soon. Wouldn't do for anyone to think the young captain was cozying up to his underlings, would it?

"I'm happy for you," Guydelot says, once Sanson pauses for breath long enough for him to get a word in edgewise. "You deserve it." All of it, he doesn't add: everything Sanson hopes for, everything he dreams this unit will be. All of it. He hopes like hells it'll come true.

Sanson sighs in quiet contentment, his hands curling around his mug.

"I..." He begins, then pauses, suddenly shy. "You... you will join, will you not?" He picks absently at a scar on the table. "I haven't yet requested your transfer from the Gold Bulls; I wished to know for certain it was what you... that is, I... I don't wish to put you in the position of, of needing to decline a transfer-"

Guydelot snorts. "What's all this, then? I recall a certain someone saying something to the effect of 'My plans cannot succeed without you, Guydelot!'"

"Well-"

"I didn't help you write our own Ballad of Oblivion on a floating island in the sky just so you could set me aside once the ink on the 'yes ser, you may have your unit!' paperwork was dry." He's teasing, half-laughing with every word.

Sanson offers a wry smile. "I am trying to be considerate. Lout."

"Aye, well, stop it." Guydelot kisses Sanson's temple, quick and light. "Do you need me for this bard unit of yours, or don't you?"

"I do," Sanson says, his gaze just a touch too warm for public. "I do need you, Guydelot."

It sends a little thrill down his spine.

He clears his throat. "Well, that's settled, then." He lifts his own mug. "To your unit, then! And to hells with the Gold Bulls."

"To the unit," Sanson agrees, sharing the toast. "And to you, without whom none of it would be possible."

"Oh, you'd've found a way." The bard grins. "Pig-headed as you are, you'd've beaten the song out of that siren - I just jumped in so you wouldn't hog all the glory."

It makes Sanson laugh. "You deserve some credit, surely!"

"I'll take credit for showing up for the mission," Guydelot says, setting his mug down and winding the fingers of one hand through Sanson's, twining their fingers together on the table. "Showing up when I didn't care to. That was my charitable contribution to the adventure."

"You deserve more credit than that," Sanson says quietly, rubbing the side of Guydelot's hand with his thumb. "A good deal more. You deserve everything."

Suddenly the Canopy's too crowded; there are too many people here. Guydelot wants nothing more than to be somewhere quiet and alone with Sanson, the better to celebrate in private.

He squeezes Sanson's hand instead, lifts it to his lips for a kiss.

"I don't even know if I deserve what I've got," he admits softly, his lips still resting against Sanson's skin. "But I'm damned well going to try to be worthy of it."

#sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #my writing #i've actually been wanting to write this scene for ages #so thanks for the excuse <3

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starlit-scarlet · 3 years ago

Text

Stress

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

This is a somewhat self-indulgent fic I decided to write this morning. Levi gets to comfort reader who's stressed out from school and an internship. Always such fun :) haha

Another long day of school, followed by hours at your internship where you got the thrill of doing all the work and reaping none of the benefits, and you finally staggered into your home, the sun having set below the horizon hours ago. Shutting the door closed behind you— metaphorically shutting away the day— you pressed your back against the door, eyes fluttering shut as you desperately tried to will away the migraine you could feel coming on at the base of your skull.

Fuck, could this day get any worse?

Tears pricked at the back of your eyelids, long having since wondered if any of this was even worth it at this point. Half the time you thought you’d made the wrong choices, picked the wrong path, yet here you were, continuing to truck along, because that was what you were supposed to do. Without having realized, the purse you’d been holding had slipped from your hand to land with a gentle thump on the floor.

The memory of the day flickered across your mind, remembering all the ways you’d apparently screwed up, your asshole of a supervisor never hesitating to remind you of that. Yet she always seemed to forget the way you made sure her files were always neatly organized in the proper drawers, the way you were always on time, never late, always willing to stay late when she needed you. The way your notes were careful and methodical, documenting as much of her time spent with clients as possible.

No. None of that she gave a shit about. She simply seemed hell-bent on pointing out each and every blunder you made.

‘You fucked up big time with that client. How you've gotten this far in your career and education, I haven't a clue. Go get me some coffee. Maybe that, you won’t screw up.’

It wasn’t that you minded criticism. No. You welcomed it. But there was a difference between constructive criticism meant to help you improve, and criticism meant to tear you down.

And you were doing all of this for an overpriced piece of paper that you weren’t even sure was worth it anymore.

Is this something I even want to do anymore?

Sighing, you pushed yourself off the door, wincing at the pull of your back. Sitting all day with shitty posture put a strain on your back, and it had you rubbing at the muscles as you made your way into your tiny kitchen. More tears flooded into your eyes at the sight sitting before you in the warm, dim light of the room.

There at the table was a steaming hot plate of your favorite dish, and you can’t help but drool at the sight of the bowtie pasta topped with the bolognese sauce. It was a meal that always brought you comfort, it having been the first thing he’d made you on that first date so long ago. Beside it, a simple glass of freshly squeezed lemonade, a couple of aspirin, and one of his notes he often left sitting around for you to find.

Oh, how that glorious man spoiled you to no end.

You picked up the note and unfolded it, a few tears trickling down your cheeks at the words.

‘Hey, don’t forget I love you.’

Sniffling, a weak, watery laugh spilled out of you at the simple little note. He may not be one for grand gestures and words of poetry, but fuck, the things he did had your heart pitter-pattering in your chest. As if you could ever forget. The man may be shit at verbalizing his emotions, but each and every day he made sure he showed you in some way that he loved you.

Making sure you had at least one hot, home-cooked meal a day, knowing the rest of your day was spent grabbing whatever was fastest.

Doing your laundry for you when you were bogged down with assignments for school, with work your supervisor forced you to take home to finish.

Taking you to your favorite spots on days where you had a little free time, the ones that held the most cherished memories for you.

Hugging you.

Kissing you.

Letting you cuddle up against him on the couch.

The fact that he did any of that even though he was also busy with his own job as a software engineer, was something so heartwarming, something only a man like Levi would do. His position was demanding, full of responsibilities, but he always made sure he made time for you, to take care of you.

Hearing a noise coming from the hall, you spun on your heel to watch as he entered the kitchen, your eyes filling with adoration for the stoic man stepping through the entryway. It stumped you sometimes, the way you’d been able to capture his heart, to break through the walls that had been erected around him, finally finding that soft and sweet interior you knew had existed.

He paused mid-step when he glanced up from his phone— most likely checking for messages from you— eyes widening when he realized you were already there.

“Oh you’re back already? Damn, I thought you were going to be a bit later. The soufflé isn’t quite done yet, but—”

The rest of his words are cut off as his breath huffed out of him at the force of you slamming into him, wrapping your arms tight around him. Burying your face into his neck, the trembles hit your body before you can stop them, breath hitching at the way his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you close against him.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m right here.”

See, that right there was another way of him reminding you he loved you. Simply telling you that he was there for you never failed to have your heart flipping in your chest the way it did in that moment. His voice might be gruff, but the underlying tones of affection were there, and only ever for you, and it had another shudder hitting you.

As always, he held you without resistance, for as long as you needed, another way he showed you. It had taken you time to learn to speak the language of Levi Ackerman, but now? Now you knew, and you read him with ease, could pick up each and every nuance, each twitch of his brow, the quirks of his lips, everything he did that was a clue to what he felt and thought. His heart was held in the palms of your hands, in the most delicate of ways, just as yours was with him.

He pulled back a touch to kiss the top of your head, tucking his knuckles beneath your chin to draw your gaze to his, and swiping away stray tears with his thumb.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up and changed while I finish up in here?”

Nodding you leaned up to peck at his lips before making your way into your bedroom, stripping yourself of your clothes and tossing them into the hamper, your shoes placed neatly on the rack in the closet before changing into some comfy clothes and thick socks. Almost immediately, you felt a weight lift off of you, just from the simple act of removing the fabric you’d worn for the day, as if you’d been removing the events of the day with them.

Throwing your hair into a quick braid, you scurried back out, the smell of the food drawing a fierce rumble from your stomach. When you tried to help him finish, he waved you off, telling you to sit down and relax.

That’s how it usually went with him. He refused help when he sensed your day had been rougher than normal, no matter how much you insisted, not until he felt that you were at ease, relaxed, and taken care of. So you relented, settling in at the table, ravishly digging into the meal, slowly feeling more and more at ease. He sat in the chair next to yours with his own plate of food, and for several moments, the only sounds filling the room were the clinking of forks against the plates.

That was something else special about Levi. He always waited for you to eat, wanting at least one meal where the two of you could spend time together, enjoy each other’s company. It didn’t matter the time. Early afternoon, late evening, early night, no. He didn’t care at all, so long as you ate together. Another reminder of how much he cared for you.

When you’d finished, you leaned back in your chair, a satisfied smile filling your face at how his simple care had made you feel better, the aspirin not even needed as the headache faded on its own. Not having realized your eyes had fluttered closed, you started when he took your hand in his, linking your fingers together. You turned your head to meet his eyes, and your heart flipped in your chest at the affection you see in his, the dim kitchen light making his hair appear darker, and you couldn't help the way your free hand combed through the bangs flopping over his forehead, moving to cup the side of his face.

“You don’t have to do this, you know?”

Without even needing clarification, you knew what he was referring to. It was something he reminded you of regularly, reminding you that he would support you no matter what, that you didn’t have to continue on if you no longer wanted, that you would both figure things out together. You don’t know what you’d done to deserve him, but like hell would you ever let him go.

Tears prick your eyes once more, though gentler this time, and not from the stress of the day. “I know, baby...I want to do this.”

Because at the end of the day, this was something you truly wanted for yourself. You wanted to be able to look back and say, I kept going, and I finished. Even if it wasn’t the right path for you, you wanted the satisfaction that came with that overpriced piece of paper.

And that was all the reassurance he needed as he leaned in to graze his lips across your forehead, drawing a content sigh from you. He was your rock, and he was all you needed to make it through each and every day.

Timed perfectly, he pulled the soufflés out of the oven, setting them down in front of the both of you. His is a tart lemon, yours is a decadent chocolate and you can’t help but moan in delight at the richness that hits your taste buds as you devour the desert. Enjoying each other’s company, the two of you sit in companionable silence as you enjoy the delicious dessert he’d made.

Once finished, he rose to clear away the dishes, though this time you insist on helping, refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer. Sensing that you were more relaxed, he relented, the chore passing by faster with the two of you working together...him washing and you drying of course.

With the dishes out of the way, the two of you were free to end the night in the way you both enjoyed best, cuddling on the couch with your legs swung over his lap, his arm around your shoulders holding you close. As he always did, he’d tossed a throw blanket over the two of you before flicking on the tv, selecting the next episode of the latest tv show you were indulging in together.

It was the perfect end to a shitty day, one that helped you keep going.

Back to Fluff/Comfort Menu

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #soft levi #one shot #fluff #modern au

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justfangirlthingies · 3 years ago

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Intruders (Helmut Zemo)

This is my first ever finished fic for our beloved Zemo, who definitely deserves to have his sword in the mcu.

I've had this scenario in my head for a while now and usually I find it hard to properly write out my thoughts to text. I honestly have no idea what's gotten into me that allowed me to write my thoughts into a fic, but whatever it is, it can come and bless me with its presence more often

Summary: You were planning on having a relaxing evening when a group of "intruders" turned your plans around

Warnings: I think there's one or more curse words, a sword (but nothing dangerous happens with it) if you think there's anything that I missed and/or should be added as a warning here please let me know

Word count: 2137 words

Transaltion: If you are familiar with Zemo fics you probably know what "draga" means. In case you don't know draga = dear/beloved

You were relaxing in the bathtub, eyes closed, as the warm water embraced you. You dipped the back of your head into the water in order to get all your hair wet properly, a soft sigh escaping your lips. It was peaceful and quiet, until you heard something that sounded suspiciously like the front door opening and closing that is. Immediately, you sat up in the water, which started to slosh from the sudden movement, and pulled your knees closer to your body as you listened attentively. Maybe you just imagined the noise. You were probably just being paranoid. Living alone in a house as big as this just seemed to have taken it's toll on you. What you had not expected however, was to hear more noises. Oh you definitely weren't imagining this. Loud footsteps accompanied by voices could be heard throughout your home.

In distress, you quietly jumped out of the bathtub, your body and hair still dripping with water as you stepped foot on the towel on the floor. Well you certainly wouldn't be able to defend yourself wearing only a towel. You stayed alert while you let your gaze wander through the room swiftly, in order to find something to wear and also something to defend yourself. That's when you spotted it. His bathrobe.

You never bothered to take it off of it's hanger. Doing so, would have made the situation you lived in come crashing down on you and you couldn't have that, now could you? Besides, it still contained traces of his intriguing smell, you'd never find the willpower to discard something that carries his smell still.

Without giving it much thought, you grabbed the robe and put it on, quickly tying it up as you continued to scavenge the room for some kind of weapon or defense. After coming to the conclusion that there was nothing of use for you in this room you sighed silently. Panic settled in your system as you felt your heartbeat and breathing speed up. You tried desperately to calm yourself, your hand wandering to a little ceramic bowl that usually held soap in it. This would have to do.

Only when you reached out for the handle of the bathroom door, you remembered. The sword! There was a sword just conveniently hanging on one of the walls in the hallway. He had shown you how to use it. You probably forgot half of what he had taught you back then, but it would have to do to save your life. That's why he taught you in the first place, to defend yourself.

The bowl made no sound when you put it down, seeing as you placed it on a piece of fabric, in order to avoid making noise. Carefully, you opened the door and tiptoed your way out into the hallway. As soon as you had stepped foot onto the ground of the corridor, the voices grew clearer, but you needed to focus on your current goal, which was to go and get the sword hanging on the wall and not to listen to the intruders. So, that's exactly what you did.

Getting the sword off the wall turned out to be more challenging than you anticipated, as it was quite heavy. A lot heavier than what you remembered it to be. After struggling with it for a good minute or two ,you finally managed to lift it off the wall and the weight of the full sword, without it being supported on the wall anymore, nearly caused you to drop it, seeing as you only held it with one hand. The odds seemed to be in your favour, for you caught the weapon mid-air and while it still made contact with the ground, the carpet covering the floor managed to absorb the sound of the sword clinking against the floor.

You took a deep breath and pushed the big and wide sleeves of the robe up a bit, to keep them from disturbing you. The voices you had been hearing didn't seem to stray far from the living room and kitchen area. Putting on a straight and brave face, you exhaled deeply and lifted the sword like you had been taught, you also tried to keep the stance you were supposed to have as you made your way down the hall.

You came to a halt right around the corner to the kitchen and living room area, where you attempted to calm your breathing and heartbeat once again. "Now what?" you thought. Should you walk into the room and confront them? Or should you pull the attention to yourself from here right away?

You decided on the first option, this way you could still take a few minutes to calm yourself down and- CRASH!

"Oh no. Oh no this is bad. Shit! What do I do now?" You cursed under your breath as you looked at the object you had accidentally run over. Someone had placed a bag, which you accidentally shoved with your foot because you didn't know it was there, right next to a lamp. It is save to say, that said lamp now laid before your feet in shards and the placement of the bag also wasn't your doing. In fact, the bag didn't even belong to you.

"I thought you said this is your place and no one lives here" a man's voice growled. "Show yourself!" shouted another voice in your direction. You contemplated running away and hiding for a moment, but there was no backing out now. So, you gathered all your might and confidence together and tried to keep your voice steady you spoke "Who are you and what are you doing in my home? I will ask you to leave only this once" Your demand came out more shaky than you would have liked, but it would have to do "And-and I'm armed" You added, realizing you had forgotten to mention it previously.

What you were not aware of was that he stat around the corner with the two men and when your voice reached the Baron's ears, his eyes widened, though he promptly covered up his surprised expression from the others. "You knew about this didn't you?!" Sam jumped up from his seat "This was your plan all along!" "I assure you Samuel, I was not aware anyone was here" Zemo retorted quickly. "What a load of crap!" Samuel shouted back.

You however, didn't get a chance to take notice of the conversation the two were having because you noticed someone else approaching you. You quickly took your stance to fight for your life, the sleeves of the oversized bathrobe rolling back down your arms and covering your hands, which were placed on the sword's handle, as you did so. As soon as you caught size of the man approaching you, you noticed a feature he had. An arm made of metal. This was going to be harder than you thought. You swung your sword at the man who caught the blade mid-swing, with ease in his metal hand. "I'm very sorry for intruding. We were not aware that someone lives here." "Well, I obviously live here" you grumbled.

You kept struggling against him even after he had grabbed your arm and rendered your attacks useless. Even when he had started walking you back around the corner, you still keep the sword tight in your grip, ready to put up a fight again as soon as danger was near.

What you didn't expect though, was to see him. Baron Helmut Zemo. You dropped the sword as soon as you saw him, it landed on the tiled floor making a loud reverberating noise, that immediately caught his attention. "Helmut" you mumbled, not believing your own eyes as they began to water.

As soon as the sword fell, all of Zemo's attention was on you. The way you stood in a poise and secure stance, much like the one he showed you. The sword which he remembered to be decorating the hallway lying before your feet. Your (h/c) hair still wet from what he presumed must have been a bath. He didn't fail to notice his robe, which even though it was tied tightly and securely around your waist, still seemed to hang loosely around your body. Your hands were covered by the sleeves of his robe, yet he didn't miss the way something briefly reflected the light of the room from underneath one of the sleeves. So, you still wore the ring he had given to you. Hearing your voice sounded like music to his ears. Another thing he noticed, was that it seemed like you didn't age a day. Were you possibly taken by the blip?

Helmut Zemo could read you like a book, the expression on your face however, was the only thing that was hard for him to read right now. There were so many different emotions covering your features, but as soon as he took notice of your beautiful pools of (e/c) swimming with tears, he jumped up from his seat, ready to take you into his arms and just hold you tightly and securely to his body. "(Y/n)" he whispered back to you.

Sam Wilson queered the Baron's pitch, by holding him back from crossing the room to reach you. You took notice of what Zemo was trying to do. It was something you also wanted. Something you needed right now. It seemed you were in luck once again because the man with the metal arm had loosened his hold on your arm and it was easy for you to slip from his grip.

Without giving it another thought, you sprinted across the room and ran right into Helmut's arms, not caring about the man who was holding him back. You held each other tightly, enjoying his warmth and familiarity. Sadly, the bliss you were experiencing was suddenly cut short by the man with the metal arm.

"Let me go!" You struggled against the man's arm again. "James let go of them." Zemo demanded calmly. "Do you even know who that is you're throwing your arms around here?!" The guy asked you, his voice sounded more like a growl, which caused you to thrash around more. "Of course I know who that is!" you snarled back at him in irritation. "I think I can recognize my husband myself, thank you very much. Now let me go!" you sassed. The statement had caught the man named James off guard and he loosened his grip on you again, the other man doing the same with Zemo.

You had gotten married shortly before the Baron blew up the UN. It was the only way for him to come to terms with his past and while you were not happy with the decision he made, you understood why he did what he did. That doesn't mean you agreed with his ways of doing this. God knows you had tried to talk him out of it many times after you found out about his plans. You didn't even know what you were looking at when you saw the plans and even though Zemo knew you were not aware of his plan, even after looking at some of the blueprints, he wanted to be honest with you. So, he told you everything he had planned. There was no stopping him from at least trying and while you used to give yourself the fault for not stopping him, which would have been impossible anyways, you had come to terms with it over the years.

"Draga" your husband exhaled as he wrapped his arms around you again. His embrace was something you had missed for a long time, a smile formed onto your lips as you hugged him back and nestled your face in his neck. "I missed you Helmut." your voice was muffled by his shirt and skin. "I missed you too" Zemo immediately returned your statement, his lips resting on the top of your head as he inhaled your scent, that he loved and missed so much. "You smell nice" he murmured against your head making you giggle.

"You do know you'll have some explaining to do about all of...well, this" you pulled away a bit, looking at him as you gestured to him and the other two people in the room, who just watched this whole situation unfold in complete and utter bewilderment.

"I know, I know, but for now let us enjoy the moment just a little longer" he smiled at you as he pulled you closer again, before leaning forward a bit to whisper in your ear "My bathrobe suits you well dear" You lightly hit his shoulder for that statement and because you could practically hear the very evident smirk adorning his face.

Taglist: @ateez-star @littlemissnoname13 @gwlvr @handmaiden-of-mischief

#luna writes #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #marvel imagines #zemo x reader #baron zemo fic #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo imagine #tfatws #luna feeds her daniel brühl obsession #mcu imagine #mcu #mcu zemo #baron helmut zemo x reader

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swtltlmrvlgrl · 4 years ago

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Accidents Happen

Summary:

The story is set in an alternative MC universe where Tony Stark is still alive and is paying for Peter Parker’s college tuition fees. The college life is not really something that he looks forward to, especially when he’s far away from Ned and MJ. But luckily he was able to meet the reader!

This story is part of my one-shot compilations inspired by the song “You Shine” from the musical “Carrie”, wherein two people see the way each other shines.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Fluff, awkward university students, accident, injury

Word Count: 2,906

First Day of School. Peter Parker cringes at the thought. It’s not that he hates school, he just feels uneasy at the thought that he’s new and he doesn’t have his friends, Ned and MJ, with him.

And I’m Spider-Man, I have better things to do, he thought.

If it wasn’t for his promise to Mr. Stark, to finish his college degree in exchange for full access to the Avengers Compound and all the tech that comes with it, he would’ve webbed his way out of the school before he could even get in the school.

Tony Stark, a genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist, initially wanted to enroll Peter in the most elite school in America but good thing Peter was able to convince him not too. With the looks of how the students dress up and the amount of cars outside the parking area, this would’ve gotten much worse if he followed Mr. Stark’s initial plan. Peter adjusts his second-hand, thrift-store-bought backpack and walks straight towards his classroom.

Before entering the classroom, he double checks the text written on his ID to see if it matches the name of the room. He slowly enters the room and lo-and-behold, a classroom that can be converted to an IMAX movie theater, welcomes him.

He scans the room and decides to sit on the desk located a few meters away from the exit door. With his elbow on the desk and his chin resting on the palm of his hand, he observes the students already forming groups amongst themselves. Peter made no attempt to join a clique or to join any group, just looking at his wrinkled plaid shirt over his 5-year old white shirt, he knows he doesn’t belong. But he knows that’s not enough of a reason to just stop making new friends.

You’re an Avenger, man. With all the courage that he could muster, he scans the room and tries to find at least one person who hasn't had any chance to make friends yet.

Before he could turn around to check if the seat behind him is also empty, you walk towards Peter’s direction. You were wearing a blue oversized sweatshirt. A tinge of reds were peaking through the gaps between the folds of your black denim pants and white sneakers also caught Peter’s attention.

This is my chance.

Before Peter could even speak with you, a voice coming from the professor disrupted Peter’s plans.

“Hi class. Good morning.” The professor flashes his name and the subject name on the screen of the projector. “For today, I will be discussing the syllabus, I think we’ll finish early. I won’t be sharing the soft copy of my slide, so please take down notes.”

Bummed that he wasn’t able to talk to you, Peter made a mental note to at least try to start a conversation with you after class. He then rummages through his things, only to realize that he wasn’t able to bring any pens. He vaguely remembers Aunt May borrowing it earlier, but he’s not really sure if she was able to return it. “Oh no.” He whispers and takes out his notebook instead.

Peter is in the middle of pretending that he’s taking down notes, when he feels a soft tap on his shoulders.

“You can borrow this if you want.” You offer a ballpen to Peter.

Peter is taken aback by this sudden interaction.

“Ah!” You exclaim. “Don’t worry, the case is pink but the ink’s black.”

“T-thanks.” Peter stuttered. “I - I don’t mind the color.”

I don’t mind the color?? What the hell does that mean?! Peter smiles at your direction while mentally cursing at his awkward self on the inside.

-----

The professor finishes up his lecture and you start to fix up your things.

“Thank you for this.” Peter interrupts, while you were in the middle of putting your notebook in your black leather backpack. “I-I left my pen at home and -” With his left hand, he rubs his nape, as he hands you the pen with his right. “I’m Peter, by the way, Peter Parker.”

“Y/N. Y/N, L/N.” You respond and push back the pen. “You can have the pen for a while. You’ll probably need that for your next classes.”

“Oh. Uh!.” That… makes sense. Not gonna lie, Peter was a little surprised by your response, he definitely did not include that in his list of possible scenarios. “Right. I’ll just return this tomorrow.”

“Sure! What time’s your lunch tomorrow?” You ask, as the two of you walk out of the room. “My lunch time is...” He looks at the back of his ID, “a little early… 11:30AM. How about you?”

“Ow. Too bad. Mine’s 12nn.”

Your small pout wasn’t left unnoticed (and it was a little cute and Peter couldn’t help but smile.) “Wanna compare schedules?” Peter asks.

“Sure!” you answer excitedly.

“So…” Peter scans your schedule. "We’re classmates in… Literature… and…”

“History.” You add. The two of you looked at each other and smiled.

“I guess we’ll see each other a lot?” Peter comments.

“Yeah. I hope so.” You answer and smile at him.

-----

The two of you started eating together ever since the day returned the pen to you. Seating next to Peter is probably one of the best decisions that you made in your life. Having someone to eat with during lunch time was a thorn out of your chest because eating alone is one of your fears.

Generally, it takes a long time before you can adjust yourself to someone (contrary to the popular belief that you’re “friendly’), but Peter’s obvious awkwardness and warmth just made it more comfortable for you. Knowing that someone is as shy as you, but still trying to converse with you is something that you really appreciate 0 it makes you want to try to converse too.

From having lunch together, you two ended up walking home together, as well. Some days you would wait for him, some days he would wait for you and then some days he has to go earlier because he had something to do for Mr. Stark. Walking home together wasn’t really something that you explicitly told each other to do, it just felt like a natural thing to do.

“Hey.” you say, one day. “Let’s go to the clinic on our way home.”

“Why?” Peter asks, his voice sounds a little worried.“ Do you feel sick?”

You don’t answer and continue walking instead. After arriving at the clinic, you open the door and Mary, the University nurse, greets you with a warm smile.

“Y/N! What’s up?” Mary inquires.

“Hi Mary!” You stride inside and Peter follows. “Can I have some of your bandages?”

“Sure! Why? Don’t tell me you got injured again.” Mary echoes your soft chuckle. “No, not me this time.”

Mary pauses whatever she’s doing and observes you, as you point at the empty chair to where Peter can sit while you look for the bandages in the cabinet. Peter looks a little confused. With a white square bag in one hand, you approach the chair where Peter was seated.

“Give me your hand.” You instruct Peter, he hands you his left hand. “Your other hand, you silly.” You smile.

“I don’t think -” The pain he felt after you touch his right hand stops him mid-sentence.

“Sorry.” You whisper. Peter was wearing a long-sleeved flannel shirt that you had to slide up. His hand is swollen as you expected.

“I-” Peter starts. “I fell from the stairs.” Of course that is a lie. Because, he, in fact, fell from a building because he was running late for Literature class. He didn’t really mind it, because it happens all the time and he knows he’ll heal eventually.

You gently place a cold compress on Peter’s hand. “I noticed that you were having a hard time writing a while ago.” You pause for a while and look at him. “You don’t have to explain anything Peter. Plus, since you injured your dominant hand, I just thought you might need help with wrapping this up.”

“My mom’s a nurse.” You mention, while wrapping the bandage around Peter’s hand. “We used to pretend to be injured and wrap bandages during play time.”

Peter hums, amused. “You’re amazing, you know.” He comments. “You’ve always been like this since the day we first met. It’s like, you can read my mind.”

You laugh. “I don’t know why, but I always get that comment about me.” You pull down and button up Peter’s Sleeve. “But I don’t think I’m amazing, though.”

Before Peter could say anything, you stand up, fix the chair and return the bandage to where you got it. “Let’s go home?”

Peter nods and you bid goodbye to Mary.

“Bye, Mary. Thanks.” Peter echoes and waves his hand briefly.

“Take care, you two.” Mary responds.

-----

On your way home, Peter stops in his tracks and points at the ice cream truck by the park. “Hey. Let’s get some ice cream. Sit by the bench over there.” He pauses and looks at you. “I’ll go get you some. My treat.” He winks and runs towards the truck.

You sit down on the bench located under a tree, stretch your arms a little while taking a breath of fresh air. A few moments later, you see Peter striding towards the bench. He stops in front of you, with two ice creams in his left hand - his fingers strategically intertwined to make sure the ice creams won’t fall down. One of the ice cream was probably cookies and cream flavored and the other one was chocolate for sure.

“You know” You comment, as you reach out for what you assume as the cookies and cream flavored ice cream. “If you can hold two ice cream cones in one hand you should might as well try to write with it.”

Peter laughs and sits next to you and hands you a paper towel. “I’ll put that on my to-do list.”

You grab the paper towel that Peter handed you and the two of you proceed eating. You were silent for a whole minute until Peter started speaking again.

“I still think you’re amazing though.” Peter comments. While you were focusing on eating your ice cream, he looked at you briefly and looked away when you started laughing.

“Why are you bringing up that topic again?” A layer of ice cream got stuck on your throat making you cough a little, you clear your throat, and continue. “I don’t think being… hmm… how should I call this?” You pause to think for a second. “Sensitive? I don’t think it’s something amazing.”

“Why is that?” Peter was curious. “It’s like you’re a mind-reader! It’s amazing!”

You chuckle. “Why? Are you going to recruit me to the Avengers or something?”

Did she notice that I’m Spider-Man, too? “Hehe-he.” Peter laughs awkwardly and continues eating his ice cream.

“But seriously though.” You continue, while chewing some of the ice cream cone bits in your mouth. “As much as being...err...hyper-sensitive with other people’s non-verbal nuances is a good thing, especially when I have a friend like Peter Parker who tends to keep their struggles to themselves.”

“Hey! I don’t do that…”

You glare at him, smile a little and take a deep breath. “It’s not particularly amazing when I have to stand in front of many people…” You finish up with your ice cream and crumple the piece of paper towel on your hand. “...and notice every little change in expression each time you utter a word… Or when you sit alone in the middle of crowded places and just feel the eyes of people staring at you, judging you.” You look at Peter and smile a little more as you try to make it look like it’s not that big of an issue.

Peter had finished his ice cream as well. “Y/N…” Peter might not be as sensitive as you, but he looks at you as if he sees beyond your half-hearted smile. Peter moves and scoots closer to you while adjusting himself to face you. He takes your hand, opens it, and takes the balled up paper towel that you’ve been gripping while you were speaking. With his left hand, he puts the paper towel into his bag’s side pocket, while making sure that his right hand never left yours.

“I’m sorry… I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable.” You look at Peter. He was gazing at you, looking straight into your eyes.

“It’s fine, Peter. It’s not like you -”

“Y/N.” Peter cuts you off. “Whether or not I wanted to, I made you feel uncomfortable and I have to apologize. Okay?” Peter pauses. “Can you promise me one thing?”

“What is it?” You ask.

“I - I’m not as sensitive as you and I might not always notice whether you feel bad or not.” Peter continues. “If it’s alright with you… can you promise to not hide your feelings when you’re with me? I mean - it’s difficult, you know. Having to hide your feelings all the time. At least if you’re with me… even if it’s for a short time, you don’t have to carry the burden of hiding it.”

You smile at Peter, tears welling up on your eyes. “Peter…”

“But if you’re not comfortable with that, it’s fine -”

You release your hand from Peter’s hand, form a fist and raise your pinky finger. “I promise.”

Peter smiles and entangles his pinky finger into yours. “Promise.”

“Just promise that you won’t fall down the stairs again.” You joke.

Peter chuckles while reaching out for your face to wipe the tear that you didn’t notice fall from your eye.

“If you have presentations where you have to speak in front of the class, whether I’m your classmate or not, I’ll try to be there and maybe you can try to focus on me?” Peter clears his throat. “I mean… just to keep your attention out of the other people.”

You laugh and Peter joins you too. “Thanks, Pete.”

-----

“I have something to buy at the grocery.” You tell Peter while the two of you are waiting for the traffic light to turn green. “You can go ahead.”

“Take care!” Peter shouts as the two of you go your separate ways.

“You too!” You shout back and make your way towards the grocery.

Peter waits until you’re out of sight before he goes to the alleyway to change into his suit and start his patrol. He webs his way up the building and gets a glimpse of you entering the grocery. He nods a little and webs away to find people he needs to help out.

-----

Normal. That’s what Peter would probably describe the first hour of his patrol today - stopping thieves from running away, saving cats that got stuck on a tree and telling a lost man the directions. It was all just normal everyday, neighborhood Spider-Man things.

He was about to take a break when he felt the hair in his arms stand up.

Peter tingle.

“Y/N!” He exclaims as he hurries down towards the direction of the grocery where he last saw you.

I hope I’m wrong. I hope I’m wrong. He repeats in his head. Y/N, please, please be safe.

-----

You were on your way to cross the street when a running child and stumbled into you, causing your groceries to fall down. You squat to pick up the groceries, you look up to search for the child, only to find him still running.

Towards the pedestrian lane.

Red light.

Huge truck.

Fast.

You stand up and dash towards the kid, leaving your groceries scattered across the pavement.

Will I make it?

You run as fast as you can.

I won’t make it. The truck’s too fast.

You run faster.

A little more.

You reach for him and you push him towards (what you think is) safety as hard as hard as you can. All the energy in your body had left you and the last thing you can remember was the loud honk from the truck and then everything was silent.

-----

Your eyes are still closed when you feel an arm tightly wrapped around you. You look up only to find yourself swinging in the air while being held and carried by none other than Spider-Man.

The two of you reach what seems to be the top of some building, you're not even sure what building it is because everything happened so fast.

Spider-Man put you down at last.

“Thank you.” You tell him as you pat down and straighten your clothes. “I’m sorry you had to...carry me. Is the - uhm - is the kid safe?” You ask him.

Spider-Man chuckles. “You were literally about to die a while ago and the first thing you think of is the well-being of other people.” He sighs. “Are YOU okay?”

You pause for a second to the sudden idea that popped into your mind while you're face-to-face with THE Spider-Man.

Familiar.

Oddly familiar.

His voice is a little muffled, but you know that voice. You hear that voice every day. And that height. You take a step forward. That scent.

That warmth.

“Peter?” You step closer to the man that you’re 90% sure is your friend, Peter Parker, dressed in the Spider-Man costume. “Is that you?”

A/N: It's my first time writing for Peter Parker! How was it?? Haha. I hope I did his character justice.

I'm so excited to write five different stories with different pairings inspired from the song "You Shine". I haven't watched the musical but whenever I hear that song, I feel so encouraged and it makes me feel assured that somewhere out there, there are people who can see good things in me that I can't see for myself. Next up, Bucky Barnes x Reader! Look forward to it!

Masterlist

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker reader-insert #peter parker x you #peter parker and reader #peter parker fanart #peter parker oneshot #peter parker college au #spider-man x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman reader-insert #spiderman fluff #peter parker x y/n college au #peter parker imagines #peter parker fanfic #tony stark is alive

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like-a-bag-of-potatoes · 4 years ago

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Our Story - Prologue

theA/N: My first Chris Evans series. This is just a fluffy little series that has been floating around in my brain for a while, and because I've recently fallen head first into the Chris trashcan, I figured he’d be the perfect person for this little love story AU. I mean absolutely no disrespect with this, it's just a work of fiction. I also want to give a huge thank you to @percywinchester27 and @girl-next-door-writes for being my betas for this story. You are both amazing and I'm so grateful for your help on this.

Chapter: One

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader (unfortunately no Chris in this part)

Warnings: Absolutely none.

Wordcount: 1850

Four weeks after my twentieth birthday, I left my childhood home in Savannah, Georgia, and pointed my nose towards New York. It was hard to believe that eight years had passed already, but my twenty-eighth birthday approached in large strides to remind me of how much time had passed, and how much had changed. New York City was a stark contrast to Savannah, the city that never sleeps VS the most charming city in America. When I first moved here, it was my intention to stay for only a year, then I would be back in Savannah with my family and the man that I loved so deeply, Josh.

However, life never really turns out how you intend it to, no matter how much you plan for your future. Josh and I used to talk at length about our future together, and I honestly couldn't wait to get started on it all, house, careers, and then a family of our own at some point. Then, after eight or so months of long-distance we finally broke and admitted to ourselves that it was just too hard. I know you might think that since we had stuck it out for that long, we surely could manage a few more months, but by then I had been asked to stay on in what was supposed to be a temporary position, and I had fallen in love, not only with the city, but with my work. I asked Josh to come to me, told him we could find ourselves a little apartment in Queens, or the East Village, something we could afford, and we could spend a few years together here before moving back home to start a family. I guess you’ve already figured it didn't turn out that way, and it ended, as long-distance relationships often do, in heartbreak. It was my first real heartbreak- amicable, civil, and soul-crushing. It was also then I realized, as we all, unfortunately, do at some point in our lives, that love does not, in fact, conquer all.

If I'm being completely honest, I knew within my first month in this magical city that I would never want to leave, and after things ended with Josh, I felt as though I had deceived him in some cruel, unintentional way. Every conversation we had, had after that had been filled with lies and promises I never intended to keep. I had fooled myself as much as I had fooled him. After our break up, although completely heartbroken, I felt free and unburdened, which strangely made me feel even worse about the whole thing. Our love didn't end in some big blowout argument, or because we didn't want to be with one another. It ended because of the thousands of miles that separated us, and because in the months we spent apart, I changed in a way that could not have been foreseen. Never did I imagine myself in a big and busy city, but as I said, New York and me, it was love at first sight.

You might be wondering what job took me from my safe and comfortable life in Georgia, thinking that it must have been some grand, once in a lifetime thing. It was not. It was a temporary job as a personal assistant. I found it as I sat by my computer one night, daydreaming about what kind of life I would live if I had all the money in the world, what life Josh and I could create for ourselves. That's when I came across the ad. A woman, Mrs. Wallace, needed an assistant. She was a very wealthy woman in need of someone to keep track of her very busy social calendar, amongst other things. I knew she was wealthy because she lived on Fifth Avenue, not that I had ever been to New York and really knew what that entailed, but I had seen movies and read books placed in the city and knew very well that Fifth Avenue was a very expensive street. There was little to no description of the job or what Mrs. Wallace was looking for in an assistant, other than that they had to be organized and were able to juggle multiple things at once. Beyond that it really came down to compatibility. I was nothing if not organized, so before I knew it, I had compiled an application letter and sent to her email. I told no one about this, because it was ridiculous for me to think I'd even get a reply back. In all honesty, it had all been forgotten by the next morning, and I didn't think of it again until three days later when, at dinner with Josh I might add, I got an answer. She would like for us to meet. We sent a couple of emails back and forth where I tried to, as politely as possible, explain that I did not have the means to travel to New York just for an interview. I stated that I appreciated her interest, and apologized profusely for not being able to make it out there. It was then she asked for my details, and about fifteen minutes later I got a confirmation from American Airlines that my ticket had been booked and paid for. Two days later I was sitting opposite Mrs. Wallace at a restaurant that I would never be able to afford, listening to her talk about the job I had applied for and what she expected of me.

The very first thing that struck me about Mrs. Wallace was her age. For some reason, I had imagined someone in their fifties, full of botox, fillers, and whatever else middle-aged women put into their faces to look younger, but Mrs. Wallace was not that much older than me. At the time we met, she was twenty-seven, so younger than I am now, and strikingly beautiful. Thick, black hair that looked professionally blow-dried and sculpted so that not a single strand was out of place. It draped over her shoulders in loose Hollywood style waves and stood in sharp contrast to the white blazer she wore. Her skin was olive, her eyes deep brown, and her cheekbones could probably cut glass. When you put that together with her long, model-like legs, an hourglass waistline, and a very ample bosom, the woman looked like a greek goddess. To top it all off she had a warm and kind smile, and a kick-ass sense of humor. Kate, as she insisted I call her, was far from the stuck up, nose in the sky, botox filled woman that I had imagined in my head. We hit it off, and before dessert was served, I had a job offer.

It's hard to explain, but I felt as though I needed to take this opportunity, that this was an experience I was meant to have in some inexplicable way, and I accepted right then and there without a second thought, or even a conversation with my family or boyfriend. Josh was angry with me at first, but supportive, so two weeks later I stood in front of 1040 Fifth Avenue and looked up at the towering building with its limestone and intricate carvings here and there. Kate greeted me at the front door as I stepped out of the car that she had sent to pick me up from the airport. This place even had a porte-cochere to protect the residents from rain as they walked from the door to their private chauffeur-driven vehicles. I would be staying here with the Wallace family, in the staff quarters with the rest of the staff of course, so that I could be available to Kate at all times. And that's how my New York adventure started.

Eight years later, I am still working for Kate, still living in my little room in the staff quarters, but I love it. I have a little bathroom and everything I need. Food is prepared for us all by the cook, Rosalia. She is a little, plump woman in her mid-fifties, kind and compassionate, not to mention deeply passionate about the food she prepared for the whole household. Along with me and Rosalia, the other staff in our quarters are Magdalena, the housekeeper, and Mitch, who is Mr Wallace’s assistant. There was more staff, of course, like the private chauffeur’s, who didn't live on-site and throughout any given day, people would be in and out of the place like it was a busy office space as opposed to the home that it actually is.

Now, Mr Wallace was a very busy man, working non-stop whether it be at his office, or at his home office. It seemed as whenever I saw him, he was walking in fast strides, either on the phone, or confirming things with Mitch who half sprinted behind him with his I-pad, trying not to trip over anything as he tried to keep up and take down notes at the same time. Henry, that was Mr Wallace’s first name, was a little older than Kate, not so much that you could accuse her of being a gold digger, but he was approaching his fifties now. He didn't look it though, he was a very handsome man, and kind. Imagine George Clooney, a man that just seems to get more gorgeous with every passing year. Kate and Henry were busy, always had their hands full with whatever it was, but somehow they always found time to share a meal together every day. Even if it meant having Rosalia heat up some leftovers for them at midnight. They were very much in love, and it was clear in the way they looked at one another, and how they always made sure to have that little moment to themselves every day. A couple of years ago, Kate had confided in me that she could not have children of her own, it was something that had weighed on her since she was only sixteen years old, but with Henry, she said, ‘I have all I need with that man, all the love I could ever wish for.’ It was a shame really, because I knew that Kate would have made an amazing mother, and Henry a great dad. ‘I'm alright,’ she had assured me. ‘I've come to peace with it, and learned not to dwell on something that will never be.’

So, that's the short version of how I ended up here, doing a job I adored in a city I loved with all my heart, so I think it's about time we move forward. Jump to the part where my real story starts. Spoiler alert; it involves a warm summer day in Central Park, a ruined dress, and an extremely handsome man named Chris.

******

If you liked what you read, how about slamming that reblog button and help spread my work? If you leave a little comment on top of that, you’ll be in my heart forever.

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Tags: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss

#Chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans series #chris evans au #OS #chris evans fluff

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singtotheskiies · 4 years ago

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dream come true // five hargreeves x fem!reader (royal au)

masterlist

summary: prince five longs for a taste of the world outside the marble walls of the castle he’s always known—and when he meets you at the annual ball, he discovers that it’s even more beautiful than he could have imagined.

request (by my absolute favorite anon): I was wondering if you'd be up for writing an AU one shot? I can't get the idea of something similar to a Cinderella (or prince/princess royalty AU) out of my mind. At some point Reggie throws a Grand Ball for some reason and thats where Reader and Five meet and fall in love and well idk if there would be conflict regarding Reggie and his approval (not like Five would ask) but happy ending? Whether Reader is a princess or a commoner or something else I'll leave up to you.

words: 2000

warnings: none besides reggie’s shit parenting lolz

a/n: i,,,,,, am BLOWN AWAY by this request it is so cute!!! i feel like i really could have done more with this, but here’s a lil unedited smth for you all to enjoy!!! (i wouldn’t be 100% opposed to writing more for this au at some point either)

✖️✖️✖️

Five rolls his eyes to the back of his head for what seems like the thousandth time today. If he has to listen to Luther and Diego tear into each other for five more minutes, he thinks he’s actually going to go insane.

He can see Allison glare at him from the corner of his vision, and he raises his hand in a choice gesture without bothering to look at her directly. Reginald’s cane comes down hard on the floor, voice slicing through the room and silencing Luther and Diego’s bickering.

“Five, your behavior is absolutely un—“ “Spare me the lecture, father.” Five cracks a humorless smile. “I already know what you’re going to say—the future of the kingdom is in our hands, all of us must be prepared since we never know when our moment will come, and so on and so on. Well, I’m tired of this! So tired. All we ever do is sit here and listen to those two—“ he pins Luther and Diego with an angry stare— “argue on and on while you just sit there all self-righteous and above it all, never having the decency to tell us who’s going to inherit—“ “That is quite enough,” Reginald snaps, voice taut with rage. “Out.” Five’s eyes narrow. “Out!” And so he finds himself outside the throne room for the third time in as many weeks, head lolling back against the cool marble. I’m really not cut out for this, he thinks. If this is all royalty is—just endless arguing and politics day after day—then I don’t want it. The mid-morning sun breaks through the clouds, shining through the huge glass panes that line the hall. Gold trimmings catch the light, and a glimmer hits Five right in the eyes. He stands up with a sigh and makes his way to the window, looking out on the courtyard and the distant hills beyond. He’s spent hours looking outside at those hills, longing to run for them with all his might. Small homes dot the slopes like beads on a necklace, and Five wants to walk among them, feeling the ground against his feet and listening to all the villagers greet each other as they go about their days. He longs to be free of marble walls and false smiles and instead feel the freedom that he imagines comes from interacting with real people. An impossible dream, perhaps—but a lovely one all the same. And when Reginald calls Five back to the throne room for a talking-to, it certainly helps take his mind off things. Maybe someday, he thinks. ✖️✖️✖️ The sun beams down bright and warm, and you’re grateful for the shade of your stall in the market. It’s been a slow day for selling, and you can’t help but wish that the time would go faster so that you can be free to roam about as you wish. As much as you love selling your jewelry, there’s other prospects that spark more excitement in you—namely, the yearly Presentation Ball being held in just two days. A smile spreads across your face at the thought of it. It’s going to be beautiful, you imagine, full of normal people trying to be their best for one night. And, of course, the royals will be there. Now, you’re not one to gush over a family who’s never seen in public, but a tiny part of you has to admit that the allure of the elite is tempting. This is the first year you’ve ever been able to go, and you wonder if the stories you’ve heard of rulers more statue than person are true. You hope to get a glimpse of them—just to see if they are, in fact, human. The pads of your fingers brush over the necklace in your pocket you’re saving for the ball, and a smile stays on your face for the rest of the day. ✖️✖️✖️ “You had better redeem yourself tonight, boy!” Reginald says to Five, all rancid decorum and thinly-veiled contempt. “I think it unreasonable to expect that I will sit still like—like some puppet all night, Father,” Five shoots back. “Not when our people will be there—I fully expect to speak with some of them.” “What have I always told you and your siblings ever since you were young? Commoners—“ “—Are to be avoided at all costs. Yes, I know. And I am telling you that I believe we cannot be true rulers without knowing who we are reigning over,” Five speaks earnestly, face flushed. “You are a disgrace to this family,” Reginald shouts, all traces of civility gone. “Your siblings would never—“ “Well, I am not my siblings! And I am certainly not going to sit there next to them and feign pompousness,” Five spits. “I’ve had enough of doing things your way.” His turns his heel, moving to storm out of the room.

“Where are you going, boy? The opening introduction will start any minute!” Reginald shouts after him.

“Do it without me! I’m going to be where it really matters—with my people.” Five yells over his shoulder.

Defying Father feels better than he ever could have imagined—and so he takes a deep breath and enters the crowd with a growing smile.

✖️✖️✖️

It’s quite possibly the most exciting night of your life, and you’re completely, heartbreakingly late.

You curse under your breath as you run up the castle stairs, dress gathered up in your hands to keep from tripping. Guards stand on either side of the grand, gilded entrance, and you breathe a sigh of relief when you see a small knot of people entering just before you. You reach the doors and hold out your invitation, smiling at the guard as he nods in acceptance. “Enjoy,” he says, and you beam back.

“I will.”

The ballroom is just as stunningly beautiful as you’d imagined. Gold swirls along the white marble walls, accents of royal red adding to the decadence. The huge room is chock-full of people smiling and drinking and making eyes at each other. You breathe deeply in awe, eyes shining as your head moves side to side, hardly knowing where to look next.

After several moments of looking around, your eyes land on the grand throne at the very front of the room, furthest from you. King Reginald is seated in all his harsh glory on it, flanked on either side by two of the princes. They’re dressed in brilliant royal clothes, trying their best to look as commanding as their father. Four other beautiful royals sit next to them, but your eye is drawn most to the empty throne at the end of the row. If you remember correctly, there should be five princes and two princesses—but only four men are sitting with the king. You wonder where the other is—perhaps sick or off on royal business? The kingdom rarely sees the royals outside of the balls, so it’s impossible to tell which prince is missing.

You turn away from the thrones, curiosity overcome by your thirst. Maneuvering your way through the packs of people is a bit tricky, but you manage to reach the refreshments table without any major accidents. A servant pours you a drink, and you thank him with a smile. As you turn to leave, you nearly bump into a boy about your age.

“I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, before continuing on.

“Wait,” his voice comes after you. You stop and turn back around, pleasantly surprised. “I’m sorry too. What’s your name?”

You tell him, and he smiles.

“I’m F—“ he pauses. “Felix. It’s very nice to meet you.” He reaches for your hand and plants a soft kiss on your knuckles with surprising grace. He’s really quite handsome, you think—slender, searing green eyes, well-groomed, thick hair. Most endearing of all is a dimple in his cheek that deepens as he smiles at you.

“Very nice to meet you too, Felix,” you grin, still-tingling hand slowly coming back down to your side.

“That’s a beautiful necklace,” he says with admiration. “Where is it from?”

“I actually made it myself! I sell my own jewelry at the market on weekdays,” you beam. “The wire is made from metal mined right here in the kingdom. It’s purer here than in any surrounding region.”

“That’s amazing,” Felix says with another soft smile. “You must know all sorts of things about jewelry.”

“I guess I’ve learned my fair share,” you laugh quietly. “Jewelry is how I make a living—and it’s one of my passions, so I suppose you’re right.”

“Tell me about how you make pieces,” he asks as the two of you find a relatively quiet place to sit, voice genuine and curious.

And so you do.

✖️✖️✖️

You’re the most beautiful thing Five has ever seen—high praise from a boy who’s lived in splendor all his life. As he watches you talk about your craft, he can’t tear his eyes away from your animated face and hands. How had he lived this long without realizing how beautiful people were? He’d never known something as small as a wisp of hair falling over an eye could make his heart swell nearly to bursting.

“Felix? Felix!” Your voice cuts through his daze, and his eyes snap to yours, embarrassed.

“Sorry, just got, um—distracted.” Was Felix really the best he could come up with?

“Am I boring you?” you ask teasingly, the corners of your mouth tipping up. He looks into your eyes, sparkling with amusement, and finds that nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, he’s so overtaken by his thoughts that he blurts them out loud.

“N-no. No! Absolutely not! I think you’re fascinating—and so beautiful.” He curses his voice for whispering those last words, and averts his eyes in shame.

“You’re too kind,” comes your voice, soft but somehow makes the pounding of his heart even louder. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re quite handsome yourself.”

Years of lessons in diplomacy and etiquette have done absolutely nothing to prepare Five for the feeling that washes over him when you say those last few words. He has absolutely no idea how to respond, and the best his mind can come up with is a “really?”

“Yes,” you giggle, and he’s suddenly aware of just how close you are to him. You smell so nice, and the skin of your wrist is brushing his forearm—and next thing he knows, his fingers are flickering over yours, filling up the spaces in your hand. The look you give him is so beautiful that he wishes he had met you years ago so that it would already be ingrained in his mind.

Your head is nearing his shoulder now, and he’s afraid to breathe in case he ruins your descent. The moment your hair brushes against his neck, he hears his name from behind him. He whirls around to see Klaus with an enormous grin on his face.

“I see you’re enjoying yourself, brother,” he quips. “Unfortunately, dear old father has just about reached his limit with you. If you’re not on your throne in the next few minutes, he’s going to send some guards to find you.”

Five’s eyes are wide as he meets yours. “I’m so sorry. I can explain—“

“No, I apologize, your highness,” you say. “I’ve no doubt broken some sort of royal rule tonight.”

“You were perfect—you are perfect,” he whispers, shaking his head vehemently. “I will find you later tonight—I promise.”

Your smile is more precious than any title he’s been given. “Then I will wait for you—Felix.”

He presses a lingering kiss to your soft hand, unwilling to tear his eyes away from you. And, when he still doesn’t feel satisfied, he moves his lips to the tips of your fingers, your palm, your wrist. He’s only drawn away by the sound of Klaus clearing his throat pointedly.

And for the rest of the night, Klaus’ endless teasing and Reginald’s equally endless scolding are mere echos in his ears—his head is filled with only you.

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icollectyoursins · 4 years ago

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Jotaro x Reader NSFW

Anon said: “Saw that requests are open! Do you think I could ask for some Jotaro smut. I would love for him to just use me however he pleases.”

Fun fact! I was almost forced to write this twice because tumblr just kind of... took it? Maybe it’s some deity trying to have a laugh, but I could not find this in my drafts at all, but I could see it in the mass post editor tab and I could add more tags to it, but it was nowhere to be found.

Whether you’ve been good or bad, there’s one thing that your partner Jotaro always knows how to do. Fuck you until you’re stupid. There was just something about his demeanour and stature that made you give in to his every word. This time, he decides to bring a belt to the bedroom and you are weak.

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Belts used as collars, spanking, anal fingering, anal

Word Count: 1360

Jotaro stood above you, fully clothed with a belt in both hands. You were kneeling in front of him, naked and cold, though the only thing that made you shake was anticipation. Eagerly, you waited for either a command or for him to simply shove his cock down your throat. His bright blue eyes stared down at you, demanding and hard.

“Get on the bed,” he rumbled. Quickly, you sat up, perching yourself on the edge. “Turn around.” Again, you did as you were told. He towered over you, caging your body under his while he whispered in your ear. “Don’t move. I’m not afraid of leaving your ass red.”

You whimpered, barely able to contain your excitement. Carefully, he put the belt against your throat, looping it behind your head, turning it into a collar and leash. He buckled it, then tugged on it lightly to make sure it was secure enough. The moan you let out got caught in your throat as it pressed into your neck. It wasn’t enough to fully choke, just something you knew Jotaro would use as a warning unless you told him otherwise.

“Behave,” he growls in your ear before pulling back letting the belt go slack while his freehand started groping your ass immediately. He could feel his erection straining against his pants. There was nothing he wanted to do more fuck you senseless, but as tempted as he was and as rough as he wanted to be, he didn’t want to hurt you. Too much.

Jotaro’s thumb massaged into your asshole, watching it twitch when he spread your cheeks open, practically begging him to destroy you. The anticipation was killing you. You wiggled towards him, pressing into his pelvis. He glared for a second, then brought his hand down on your ass cheek, making you yelp. The belt was pulled back, forcing you to arch your back.

“Don’t move.”

You gulped, meekly nodding your head. Again, the belt was released, though this time he pushed you onto the bed, holding you in place. His finger was already brushing against your hole, making you whine.

“Spread yourself for me.” Almost as though you were on autopilot, you reached back, spreading your cheeks open. He hummed in appreciation, teasing your aching hole more before giving in. He pressed into you, slowly stretching you open. You cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure, then he pulled his finger back. Then, the process repeated again.

Gradually, he worked you open making you moan into the sheets. Finally, the full digit was inside you, curling into your sweet spots. You were used to the insertion when he tried putting in a second one, gently pushing against your hole while watching your reactions. He was very careful to not hurt you, but you were too tight.

You hear the sound of a bottle click open then the feel of something cold dripping onto your hole. Lube. Relief washed over you, though you were fully prepared for him to be a little more rough tonight, you were thankful he wanted to make this as easy as possible for you. You moaned as his thick fingers massaged into you, collecting little drops on his index and pushing them into your ass.

Again, two warm digits were pressed against your hole, slowly testing your looseness. Still pinned down by his other hand, you tried not to squirm under him, but the slow pace was agonizing. The stretch around his middle and fourth finger was simply delicious. You couldn’t help the moans that fell freely from your lips as he stretched you open along with incoherent begging for him to split you in two. He was only a knuckle deep, but you already felt spread out wide.

Jotaro slowly fucked his fingers in and out of you, seemingly undisturbed by your desperate mewls. Eventually, three fingers were added. You were openly leaking onto the bedsheets from both ends by now. He felt so good. You were so close, so fucked out. You just wished he would give you the “honour” of making a mess on his floor.

“Pleasseeee.” You whined out, letting your arms flop to your sides, tired from holding yourself open for so long. He stopped moving.

“’Please,’ what?” He stretched his fingers out, scissoring you.

“~AaaAah. Please, let me cuummm!” He pulled on the belt, arching your back towards him. You moaned. “Sir!”

The fingers were pulled out of your ass, leaving you empty. Once again he leaned over you, staring down at you. You were a mess. Lips were swollen from biting them so much with a little trail of drool at the corner of your mouth. Your hair clung to the sweat on your face. You were quite the mess, but he could make you so much worse.

Using Star Platinum, he undid the buttons and zippers on his pants, pulling them down. His cock bounced free from his boxers, finally free. Without looking, he lined the tip up with your now loose hole, watching your eyes grow wide realizing you were getting what you had been begging for.

Jotaro’s stand spread your ass cheeks apart while he pressed himself into you. You cried out, head hanging down. He tugged on the belt again.

“Look at me,” he growled. You stared up at him, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. You wanted him so bad. He continued to push into you, making your eyes cross. His cock filling you deliciously drove you wild to the point where you thought there was going to have some kind of brain damage.

He was only halfway in when he started thrusting into you, slowly at first to get you used to his size, but gradually he picked up the pace. You were in bliss being turned into his cock sleeve, bouncing happily on his dick. The more the fucked you, the more he was able to give you. Soon he was almost fully in you, stretching your insides in a way that made you forget your name.

“Jotarooo~” You moaned out over and over again as he rolled his hips into you, making your vision go white. Again, you were so close to your release, it was getting harder and harder to not push back into him, using him to finally cum. He would never let you, of course. He would probably walk away if you so much as bucked under him. Shamefully, the thought of him tying you down in this spot then leaving you turned you on even more.

“Unf~ fuck. You’re so tight.” He pushed you down onto the bed, leaning over you again. The new position just made everything that much more intense for both of you. Both of you groaned loudly while he plowed into you. It was as though your ass was pulling back in each time he pulled out. He had no choice but to push deeper into you while he chased his release.

Your eyes were rolling back into your head, voice rising in pitch as you got closer. You blurted out incoherent ‘please’s and ‘I’m close’s until he hit a sensitive part of you, forcing you to barrel over into your orgasm, crying out his name while you gushed out onto the floor.

Jotaro followed soon after, spilling his seed into your bowels with a loud groan. Both of you panted, hot and sweaty from the exertion until he gently undid the belt, calling Star Platinum to massage your neck while he pulled out. He grabbed the warm towels you had set on the side table earlier, softly cleaning up the mess as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

After getting you more comfortable on the bed, he opted to read a book while he waited for you to wake up. After all, he wasn’t quite done with you just yet. Though, he did check his phone to see how his picture turned out. Unbeknownst to you, he had briefly stopped time while you were mid-orgasm to savour the moment. He might share them with you after this, but not before taking just a few more.

#jotaro kujo x reader not sfw #jotaro kujo x reader n/s/f/w #jotaro kujo x reader n/sfw #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo not sfw #jotaro kujo n/s/f/w #jotaro kujo n/sfw #jotaro x reader not sfw #jotaro x reader n/s/f/w #jotaro x reader n/sfw #jotaro x reader #tumblr really testing my patience on this one #THREE TIMES #i almost lost this three times #the struggle is fucking real #jotaro prompts #not sfw

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ackercrushing · 4 years ago

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A Little Wager

Ok, I don't usually write. If I do, I rarely complete it. I either have grand ideas that just don't come out or I read something similar that scratches that itch and I don't have to write anymore. But this little fluff nugget has been my constant daydream for a while. There are no warnings for this. It's lighthearted and fun. I suck at writing smut so I doubt I'll continue it. If someone wanted to pick up where I left off and do a shower scene, I would LOVE that! Anyway, here it is. Be gentle :)

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

It was mid afternoon when you and your squad made it to the training grounds. Captain Levi’s squad was supposed to be done in the next half hour. You like to get your squad there early when the special forces are training to provide a little inspiration.

You choose Emily to lead the squad in stretches before they hit the course. All the while, they’re watching Levi’s soldiers expertly soar through the air completing maneuvers it will take years for your squad to accomplish. While stretching, you hear the oohs and aaahs, sometimes shocked gasps as another soldier completes in flight stunts that look impossible. You notice Levi, arms crossed, watching them intently. He never has to yell out instruction or commands. His squad is a well-oiled machine.

“Alright guys, what’s the bet today?” you ask your team, breaking their reverie.

“Isn’t it your turn to pick, Captain (y/l/n)?” asks the unofficial leader of the squad, Leo. “Besides, every time we come up with a bet, it’s almost guaranteed defeat.”

“I’m not stupid guys. The tasks get harder depending on what we bet. If you bet I walk topless through the mess hall at dinner time, Malcolm (glancing over to the brave boy who dared make that wager), you better believe I’m giving you a nearly impossible task.” Malcolm blushes.

“It was worth a shot.” He says sheepishly. Amelia punches his arm playfully saying “That’s gross Malcolm, she’s our squad leader.”

“Anyway, I think you’ll like this offer. How about you nail all your maneuvers I assigned last week and two more surprise tasks, and I’ll do all your laundry for a week?” While this bet wasn’t as exciting as a topless Captain at dinnertime, it did get the squad’s full attention. You knew some of them were wearing clothing for the second, maybe third time between washes and they stunk! This bet was more for you than anyone.

The slight turn and side eye from Levi let you know he wasn’t watching his squad as intently as you thought. He was eavesdropping.

“But you have to land properly. No biffing the landings!” You add, hearing groans from some of your soldiers. More groans when you tell them the surprise maneuvers they are to complete. They’re difficult but not impossible for their skill level.

“All right guys, I think this is doable.” Leo chimes in, pumping up his squad mates. Some were already looking defeated, having the most difficulty with their landings. They all circled up and started motivating each other. Levi might have the elite group, but no one could rival your squad in the heart department. These guys gave it their all every time, training or battle.

You had a way with these “kids” as you called them that few squad leaders did. They loved your inclusiveness and your no-blame leadership style. You made sure they knew they were a team. Mistakes were learning opportunities, even the fatal ones. Those most of all. And they did happen to all Scout squads. It was just the nature of the job.

“OK Captain (y/l/n), we accept the bet! Get the soap ready! Let’s do this!” The whole squad was pumped and ready. You couldn’t help but grin and hope that you had a lot of laundry to do this week.

“Alright, it’s on. Keep stretching and warming up!” you say as you walk over to join Levi and watch the last of his team’s maneuvers.

“Well, your team is certainly inspiring some young ones today.” You grin and bump his shoulder.

“Is that why you’re always early?”

“Yes sir, I’ll take all the motivation we can get.”

“So what’s up with that bet? Sounds like a recurring thing with you.” He asks, never taking his gaze from his flyers.

“All the motivation I can get, right? They really respond well to the bets we make.”

“Did I hear mention of a bet that would have had you walk topless through the mess hall at dinner time?” This question did pull his gaze to you with raised eyebrows. You couldn't help the blush that stained your cheeks.

“That was never going to happen.” You outline the tasks you gave your squad that day.

“Yeah, that would be hard for my group to accomplish.” Levi smirks. “Would you like to join us during our next training session? Maybe my squad would like to try betting on something.”

“That would be amazing! Thank you!” You are beaming. Training with the elites will certainly boost your squad’s morale.

“Alright, day after tomorrow at 1pm.”

“It’s a date.” tumbles out of your mouth. Levi briefly side eyes you with a slightly scrunched brow at your choice of phrase but continues walking to his squad for their debrief. You are blushing thinking he might have taken that the wrong way. Oh well, nothing to do now but show up at 1pm in two days. Your squad was going to freak out!

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

The joint training sessions became a regular once a week thing with the two squads. The bets initially started out pretty tame. Levi and you lost several but when they were “Do 100 push ups” or “Clean all the floors in the barracks”, it was ok. Neither of you minded losing those. But the soldiers started getting braver with their wagers.

You knew something interesting was in the works when you see Sasha Braus bouncing on her heels and clapping her hands before you both even make it over to them.

“Alright Sasha, what do you have for us today?” Asks Levi, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

“Ohhhh, this is a goooood one!” Her voice quivers with excitement. “If we complete all our maneuvers flawlessly, landings included, Captain (y/l/n) has to do 10 push ups.” She’s so excited, she can hardly continue.

“Sasha, that’s not a challenge.” You add, knowing there has to be more to it. You notice Jean, Conny, and Eren look slightly uncomfortable.

“That’s not all! With every push up, you and Captain Levi have to KISS!” She literally squeals. Your eyes grow large.

“Sasha, that only works if both parties are consensual.” You roll your eyes, knowing Levi will not agree to this.

“What do you mean Captain (y/l/n)? You wouldn’t consent to that?”

The phrase you could hear a pin drop is very apropos in this moment as all eyes are on Levi with gaping mouths. You could swear you heard the wind of heads turning.

“You mean to tell me YOU consent to that?” You ask incredulously.

Levi takes your arm and pulls you aside. “The task fits the bet, right? Here’s what we’ll have them do.” He outlines his plan and the butterflies in your stomach still. But you’re not sure if you’re relived or disappointed knowing your squad will definitely not be able to pull this off. Were you hoping to lose this one?

“Perfect. Let’s tell them.” You grin.

You both walk back over, and Levi lays out the maneuvers they’ll have to perform in order to win the bet.

They are obviously shaken but the elites take the young ones aside, and after a 10-minute pep talk and possible strategy session, they return and accept your conditions. Is this task as difficult as Levi thought? They seem pretty confident. "We accept!" Sasha yells.

Levi looks at you and winks. “Alright, get going then.” In pairs, the two squads enthusiastically enter the training arena.

The last teams are nearly finished. You look over at Levi nervously. All the pairs assigned to you were flawless. How could that be? The elites really were inspiring, but you realized you might have been going a little too easy on your team. What a sight to behold. And your squad was so proud of themselves. You would have made a bet to kiss a titan for this!

Levi’s mouth is agape as he slowly turns his head to look at you. You both just stare at each other in disbelief, his expression saying everything you needed to know. His group was flawless as well.

“Holy shit.” You mumble under your breath, heat now creeping up your neck, your palms sweaty already.

Levi regains his composure, that cool mask of confidence back on his face and in his stance. He strides toward you looking way more collected than you feel.

“Alright, new strategy.” He says, a sneaky glimmer in his eye. “They didn’t say what kind of kiss, right?”

You pause for a second, realizing what he’s saying and your breath that you didn’t know you were holding is released in a relieved sigh. Is relieved the right word?

“I know where you’re going with this.” You say shaking your head.

“Every time you lower yourself, I’ll turn my head and you kiss somewhere on my face. Forehead, cheeks, nose. We’ll keep them guessing.”

“They’re going to be so mad!”

“They should have thought of all the loopholes before they finalized the deal.” Levi stated coolly with a shrug.

Sasha, back to bouncing and clapping, yells “Ok you two! Assume the position!”

"This is stupid.”-Conny

“I don’t think I can watch this.”-Eren

"Why does Captain Levi get to do the kissing?" -Jean

Meanwhile the girls are giggling messes of anticipation.

Levi lies on the ground, hands casually behind his head like he’s relaxed and getting ready for an afternoon nap. Huh, to feel that relaxed right now. You crawl up his body, your knees straddling his hips and your hands to either side of his neck. Hoots and hollers from the two squads do not help the blush on your face. You raise to plank position, then slowly lower yourself.

Levi’s head remains still until the last second, then turns to the right, offering his cheek for the first kiss. You lightly feather his skin with your lips before returning to plank.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Sasha sounds so defeated.

“You didn’t specify what kind of kiss Sasha. Let this be a lesson to you. Negotiate better next time.” Levi says smugly. “I want to hear you count! That was 1, 9 to go!”

The next 4 kisses were met with increasingly under enthused counting as the cheek, nose, and forehead barely-there-pecks were administered.

At the start of the 6th, Levi says to you “My turn.” Your eyes narrow in confusion and he clarifies “I’m going to kiss you now. Move however you prefer.” You nod, really just wanting this to be over with. You agree with the squad that this is underwhelming.

You move your head so kisses land on both cheeks, your forehead, and your nose. Time for the final kiss. As you start to lower your body, Levi removes his hands from behind his head and places them on either side of your face. Your eyes widen when he says “Let’s give them a little something more, huh?” You feel those butterflies again as you nod your head in agreement. And time passes in slow motion. You continue lowering until your lips meet Levi’s. At first, the kiss is just a brushing of your lips together. Levi gently pulls your face away just a bit to look you in the eyes, then lowers you again, this time kissing you properly. You can’t feel anything else. Your body feels weightless. His lips part and his tongue grazes your bottom lip. You open your lips to him and the kiss deepens, tongues swirling and gliding together. There’s no one else here but the two of you. The gasps and cheers from the combined squads don’t reach your ears. You have no idea how long this kiss lasts but you can honestly say you don’t want it to end.

The only thing to break the spell is Eren saying “Geez, are they going to come up for air?” Levi reluctantly pulls away after a few more brief kisses. You slowly raise your body, as your eyes open and lock with Levi’s. “Damn” he mutters softly. You can’t help but grin a little as you complete your final plank. You blink your eyes a few times, trying to rid yourself of the spell Levi’s put you under. You push up to your feet, face flushed and lips swollen. You offer a hand to Levi, who takes it, even though he doesn’t really need it to get off the ground. Once vertical, you expect him to release your hand, but instead, he intertwines his fingers with yours and says “Ok kids, show’s over. Hit the showers.” The soldiers don’t miss the fact that you’re still holding hands as they depart. Sasha and Mikasa keep looking over their shoulders, hoping they won’t miss anything else.

Levi whispers in your ear “What do you say Captain? Ready to hit the shower too?”

#levi x reader #aot #aot fluff #levi ackerman #levi fluff

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years ago

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Playing with Fire – Ch. 8

So two things: first, I did write a little interlude between last chapter and this one, and you can find it here.

And second, in the part with Luka's journal, he's in a dark place at that point in his life and there's some suicidal ideation in there. If you'd prefer to skip over it, you can jump over the italicized parts, and as far as I know that's the only time it'll pop up in this story 💖

Read on Ao3

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“You want to find my family?” Luka asked incredulously as he held a branch aside for her to walk past.

He was tired, and so was she; they’d been walking all night, but Luka had insisted they needed to put as much distance as they could between them and the tower while they still had the cover of darkness. By the time the sunlight was able to filter down to them through the canopy, she suspected it was closer to mid-afternoon and they’d been up for a full twenty-four hours. He’d been stuck in his mostly-human form for the longest he’d ever had to endure it. Maybe not an ideal time to bring up her plan, but…

“We’re already running for our lives, we don’t have a home to go back to, at least not for a while, so… While we’re out wandering anyways, I thought…”

“We’d lead an angry mob straight to my mother and sister?”

She rolled her eyes at him. Definitely not the best time to bring up her plan. “You’re cranky when you’re tired,” she noted, letting her own irritation slip into her tone. He grunted back, but it was more of a challenge than an assent.

“Besides,” she pushed on, ignoring the way he bristled, “it might take a while to find them. How long do you think the townspeople will follow us, anyways? My guess is they get to the tower, see it’s empty, and turn around and go home.”

“I’m not worried about them,” he grumbled. “There’s a certain friend of yours who didn’t seem ready to give up anytime soon.”

If he had venom, he’d injected it into the word “friend.” She winced at his bitter tone.

“Okay, so what’s your plan? We wander the wilds aimlessly chasing our tails for the rest of our lives?”

He faltered and glanced over at her. The way he seemed so unsure made her realize he’d never had a plan. At least not past “stay alive and wait.” This was all new to him; he didn’t know what he was doing or where he was going. They’d traveled in as much of a straight line as was possible away from the tower, but other than that… he was lost.

She drew closer to him and threaded her arm through his as an apology. He laid a hand over hers as he took her meaning and sighed.

“Where would we even start?” he asked, his voice small in the quiet of the forest around them.

“There have to be other towns nearby, and I’m sure someone would remember seeing dragons flying around 18 years ago.”

“More townspeople…” he grumbled again. “Great.”

She squeezed his arm in sympathy and they walked in silence for a while. She could feel the weight of the plan starting to fall on his shoulders, the idea of asking around, relying on humans, how long it might take. In truth, she hadn’t realized the enormity of the undertaking until she’d proposed it to him and now she could agree that it sounded impossible.

“Maybe they’ve been waiting for you, too,” she dared to say.

He let out a quiet laugh. “Ma wouldn’t, her treasure is the open skies and she wouldn’t wait for anyone.” He paused to think, then sighed. “Juleka might, though.”

“Your sister?”

“Mhmm. We were close when we were young. Before…” His eyes slid over to her and he let it drop. “She might’ve followed Ma at first, but I’m sure she wasn’t happy with the decision to leave me behind.”

“What’s she look like?” Marinette asked, her curiosity overtaking her. He’d never talked about it before, but for once he seemed open to the topic. He smiled wistfully as he tried to remember.

“A lot like me, I guess. Except, you know…not...” He gestured to himself, to his human form. “Unless she made the same mistake, but I doubt Ma would’ve let that happen again. And she’s taller than me, or at least she was when we were little. Maybe it’s changed a bit, but she was always kind of a lanky thing. Ma’s pride and joy, though, if I’m honest. It’s her fire. Most dragons have some variant of red; it’s rare enough to get blue fire, but Jules…” He shook his head, that wistful smile growing as he remembered. “Jules had violet fire. Unheard of, really. You’ll see when you meet her, she’s—” He caught himself then as he realized what he’d said. “If, I guess,” he amended quietly.

She squeezed his arm again and smiled over at him. “When,” she agreed. “When I meet her.”

He half-shrugged, but his smile warmed when he looked over at her. Before she could stop it, she yawned loudly and he laughed as one took him over, too.

“First things first,” he said when it subsided, looking around at their surroundings. “We need to find a place to camp.”

***

Later that evening they found a cave.

Marinette had laughed a little at the prospect. Dragons, caves, towers, curses. Her life was sounding more and more like a fairytale turned inside out. Wasn’t there supposed to be a shining knight that rescued the damsel in distress from the terrible, fire-breathing dragon?

But she didn’t feel very “in distress” as Luka joined hands with her to remove his stone and sighed with relief when his transformation took hold. She didn’t feel very in distress as he blew a small ring of fire into the floor of the cave, patting it down as he went to create a smooth, warm, bowl-shaped indent for them to curl up in together. And the only distress she felt as she tucked herself into his coils was her racing heart and trembling hands as the kiss they'd shared came back to her. He blinked up at her, sensing her hesitation, and uncurled a bit as if he intended to stand.

She shook her head and laid her hand on his back, reassuring him, then took a moment to run her fingers over his scales, admiring them in their full splendor. Even though they were pitch black, they caught the bare light of the cave and glinted back at her like he was wearing a solid coat of jewels. They turned softer towards his belly, finer, more like the scales of a snake that she was used to as opposed to the armor he wore on top.

As she continued to touch him, he let out that noise again, a small satisfied hum, and laid his head over his claws as he closed his eyes.

His wings fascinated her. There was a solid joint of muscle on each side where they met his shoulders, as thick as both her fists put together, but the wings themselves seemed so fragile—she could see her hand through the delicate skin stretched thin between the bones. And yet they were able to hold not only his weight but hers, too.

She felt it when she hit that sensitive spot that had made him ticklish before. Something like a chuckle rumbled through him and his wing flinched away from her reflexively, but he didn’t pull it out of her hands. That spot was along the side of the bone she’d been tracing, the longer one that nestled into his side when they were furled. She did it again out of curiosity and a shiver ran through him.

She tried to remember what she’d read about dragon anatomy. But instead she was imagining how it must feel to him. Maybe something like if she were tracing the ridge of his shoulder blade when he was human.

When she looked back at him, his eyes were still closed, like he was pretending to be asleep. She knew better, though; his breathing was uneven. As much as he was trying to hide it, he was hyper focused on her every move.

She let her hand trail down his arm until she found one of his huge, rough hands. She picked it up despite his small grumble as his head shifted, and marveled at the largeness of it. The pad of what would be his palm was as big as her face, and the curved ebony claws reminded her so much of the hawks she’d seen in her life that she knew they were deadly. But his were each as long as her entire hand.

As she set his hand back down, he opened an eye to look at her. She watched the slit of his pupil as it dilated to capture as much light as it could in the gloom of the cave. And the fiery blue that surrounded it was the same as the tuft of hair along his neck and at the tip of his tail.

She should be frightened. Luka in this form was danger personified. Everything about him should have made her adrenaline spike. Should have made her want to run away or try to fight for her life.

But as he blinked at her again, probably trying to understand what she was thinking, all she saw was… Luka. The same soul who had promised her mother he would take care of her, who had offered his life to her, who had saved her when she was too small to even know to be afraid.

No wonder she’d still had dreams of sleeping curled up next to him. When she looked at him, at all of him, all she saw was safety and home. And as he tucked his wing around her like a blanket, she couldn’t imagine a safer place than right next to him.

***

She grumbled awake when the light hit her eyes the next morning. She’d have to talk to him about getting curtains or something to cover that damn opening while they slept. She curled away from it, trying to press her face into Luka’s scales, but her nose was hitting something warm, and breathing, and...smoother than she expected.

Her eyes flew open as she realized her lips had touched skin.

It was later than normal and they’d already switched. Luka was human beside her. His arm was draped around her waist, she was curled up against his chest, and she had just nuzzled into his neck and brushed her lips against the hollow of his throat. She froze, but he was still solidly out, snoring lightly every so often, his arm a heavy weight around her.

The night before rushed back to her. Fleeing the tower, their long walk, the cave they’d settled into for the night… and Luka. His dark hair was falling over his eyes, and those dark circles had returned after only one night of missed sleep. His lips were parted slightly as he breathed and he looked so peaceful she almost wanted to reach out and touch him if only to make sure he was real.

But she didn’t want to wake him. So as carefully as she could she extracted herself from his embrace and stood to stretch, realizing that all their walking from the past few days had caught up to her. Before she did anything else, she retrieved his stone from where he’d left it and slipped it around his neck so her flames didn’t attract any attention. Or worse, set anything in their temporary shelter aflame.

They’d need to find food and water, but exploring their new area would have to wait until Luka woke up. For now she settled on taking inventory of what they’d brought with them, munching on a piece of bread from her parents’ bakery as she did. She froze when his lyre fell out, making an awful twang against the cave floor, but Luka only muttered in his sleep and rolled over.

When she continued searching through the bags, her fingers caught on the leather of his journal. Another glance at Luka proved that he wouldn’t be awake for a while yet; losing sleep as they traveled had hit him harder than her. She walked as close to the entrance of their cave as she dared and sat in the light to read.

The first few pages were mostly unintelligible. Scribbles and squiggles as Luka struggled with the quill and ink. Then came pages of the alphabet, unsteady at first, and traced over what must’ve been Jagged’s handwriting. The letters got stronger, more confident, and then on the next page, his first written word. Just his name, but she could almost see the pride he must’ve felt in accomplishing that one word. It stood alone on the page. She imagined a young Luka running out to show Jagged his hard work, beaming with the joy of learning a new skill.

Then other words started to fill the pages. Jagged Stone, fire, bond, wings, rabbit, trap, tower. Naming things around him, sometimes with little drawings that accompanied the word.

But then she saw the word “bakery.” Her breath caught. That wasn’t a word that Luka would be familiar with unless…

Underneath that was a sentence. “My bonded lives in a bakery.”

And as the pages went, she found more little tidbits about her life interspersed between Luka’s practicing. “My bonded has blue eyes.” “My bonded has black hair.” “My bonded likes the color pink.” “My bonded likes flowers.”

It seemed he’d tried to learn as much about her as he could, but either Jagged never told him her name or Luka never asked because every one of them started with “my bonded.” She wondered if he did it on purpose. It seemed like something he would do. Waiting not only to meet her but to hear her name.

He’d filled the next page, and it looked like a letter. Addressed to her. She glanced back at him, but he was turned away from her and she couldn’t see his face. She remembered how he’d stiffened when she asked if she could read it before he’d brushed it off as nothing. But he did say she could read it…

So she did.

***

To My Bonded,

You probably won’t ever get the chance to read this. I’m not sure why I’m even writing it other than I guess if the worst happens maybe there will be a small piece left of me that I can hope you would come to know.

From what I know of you, I think you might be someone who would listen.

Firstly, I don’t blame you if you’re angry with me. It probably hasn’t been easy on your end and I don’t know how much you’ve been told about our situation. Which is the worse curse, I wonder, knowing everything and waiting to see how it unfolds or knowing nothing and having to make a decision. Either way, I guess it’s really my fault anyways.

As for the second thing. I don’t know that I’ll have the chance to show you so I want you to know. I do care for you. Deeply. Sometimes that scares me because I don’t even know your name. The only thing I remember is seeing your eyes that day I rescued you. When they opened, when I knew you were okay, I was so relieved that I hardly even noticed your eyes were blue until Jagged reminded me years later. But they are, aren’t they? I wonder if they were like that before, or if maybe that’s another part of me that stayed with you.

I’m both dreading and hoping for the day I get to see those eyes again. Maybe when that day comes I can explain myself and apologize and tell you all this in person. Until then.

Yours, Luka

---

Bonded,

I didn’t think I’d write to you again. But Jagged told me today you had a ‘crush’ on someone in your village. A taylers boy, although I don’t know what that means. He told me about the fire too. He didn’t really have to. I felt it. I felt how your heart hurt and I wanted to go to you. Maybe I should have. I was afraid.

Jagged said you were fine, that you would be fine. But next time I feel that, I’m coming to you. Scared or not.

Yours, Luka

---

Bonded,

I am sick of this place. I’m sick of this tower and sick of the waiting and sick of feeling like I’ll be stuck like this forever. I thought you’d come for me. Aren’t you curious about me? Don’t you know by now what’s happening, why I’m still here, that I’m waiting for you? Or maybe you’re staying away because you know. Maybe you want it to be this way, maybe this is your choice.

I don’t mean that. If you knew I’m sure you’d be here already. I guess I wish I knew how much longer it’s going to be like this. How much longer I’ll be waiting for you.

Yours, Luka

---

Dear Bonded,

I keep writing to you for some strange reason. It’s a sort of comfort, knowing that you’ll probably kill me before you get to read any of this. I’m sure that’s your answer now because your village has started sending men to kill me instead. They come up from your village anyway.

It’s okay. I get it. You’re probably scared of me. The rest of them have been so I can only assume you think the same. I haven’t let them win yet. For now there’s still a small part of me that hopes you don’t know anything about this. That it has nothing to do with you. For now anyways.

Yours, Luka

---

Bonded,

I hate the taste of blood.

Yours, Luka

---

Dearest Bonded,

This is my last letter to you. I can’t keep doing this. The men keep coming. I’ve tried everything to get them to leave me alone, but nothing seems to work. And I’m tired. I know you’re probably not coming. You won’t come. Even if you did, you’d be here to kill me. And I had every intention of giving you that choice, but I’ve made my decision. The next time those men come I’m not fighting anymore.

If you do find this. If you do come for me. I’m sorry. I’ve loved you with every breath.

Yours, Luka

---

Dearest Bonded,

I’m a coward. Or a fool in love. Either way, I’m still here. I have to have faith in you.

Yours, Luka

***

She jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder. Luka laughed as he sat down behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist to press his chest against her back and lay his head on top of hers.

“Dramatic, wasn’t I?” he asked, still chuckling. As much as she could she swatted at his hand with the journal.

“You scared me! You shouldn’t come up behind someone like that!”

“We’re the only ones here, who else did you think it was?”

Damn him, she could hear his satisfied smirk in his voice. She swatted him again for good measure, even as he pressed a kiss to her hair, but his last two letters were still sharp in her mind.

“Why’d you stop writing?” she asked, flipping through the many blank pages that were left. She felt him shrug behind her.

“I didn’t see much point to it, really. Either you’d come and we’d live happily ever after and I could tell you everything myself or… not. And it wasn’t like I ever expected you to want to read it if things went badly.”

“How long after this…” she started, but she lost her voice halfway through. She had to swallow hard past the lump that was forming to find it again. “How much longer did you have to wait for me?”

He was quiet for a moment and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms, probably trying to soften the blow.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly.

“It does to me. Luka, if I’d known any of this—why didn’t you let Jagged tell me?”

He let out another of those soft laughs behind her and his breath ghosted across her neck. “He wanted to. We fought about it a lot. But I figured that would only make you feel… obligated.”

She thought about that while she stared at his last entry. Of course it was impossible to think what she might’ve done, or how she might’ve felt because she only knew what had happened. The series of events that led her to him. The nightmares and the flames and thinking she was a curse to her family and her village. And up at the tower Luka was dealing with his own nightmare. He’d almost given up hope and when she did come to the tower she’d almost proved him right.

His arms tightened around her as if he could sense where her thoughts had gone. As if to prove he was okay and it turned out alright. She pressed back against him and could feel his heartbeat thudding steadily through her own chest. Maybe he was right. Maybe it didn’t matter. They were together now. That’s what she’d told him. To stop blaming himself for what happened. She didn't blame him for anything and at the very least he'd already forgiven her, too.

She turned in his arms and slid her hand behind his neck to pull his face down to hers. As she pressed her lips to his, it felt like a promise. A promise that he’d never have to be apart from her like that again, bond or not.

He melted against her and for a moment they were both lost in each other, in the knowledge that in this moment they were safe and together and that was all that mattered.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #mlb fic #lukanette #Pro LukaMari #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #dragon!luka #LBSC Exchange 2021 #fic title: playing with fire

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sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

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Frozen Inside

Summary: You need to remember your place.

Author's note: Chapter 9 is here! Taking a break from these two was pretty hard for me I just love them so much and love writing them in this world I created. As mentioned before this chapter includes a character that someone suggested I use to stir the Junjin pot little, if anyone can guess who this extraordinary character is I will give you a cyber cookie LOL. Just a minor heads up to the person who suggested it, I don’t sympathize with this character as much as others did but I will try to give him some depth and not completely vilify him. But thank you for the suggestion! Hope you all enjoy, writing the ending kinda broke my heart a little so any positive words would be very welcome right now.

The bus ride is far too quick, he’s already loathing the moment when his shoulder will no longer be brushing "accidentally" against hers and he has to suppress a groan when someone rings the bell and he realizes this is their stop. She'd been acting uncharacteristically adorable after his honest statement earlier, running away as soon as the bus arrived as if she'd never gazed upon herself in a reflective surface before. She was beautiful, it wasn't something that was subjective it was just a fact. But once they entered the bus she made her way to a single seater by the window obviously trying to get away from him, he'd easily tugged her away by her backpack forcing her to a double seater in the back instead.

They were sitting together, there were already straying eyes watching her every move. Some from their schools and others just strangers who didn't bother to hide their interest in her, eying her up salaciously and and piquing his desire to throw hands. They were all lucky he had an important date after school, he couldn’t afford to get trouble right now.

She'd glared at him and swung her arms latching on to a metal handle trying to stop him but he was stronger than her, with a huff he pulled her with him and made her sit in the inner seat so he could bracket her in and marginally hide her form from the predatory looks.

Her leg brushed against his before moving away, so quickly he almost thought he imagined the whole thing. But then it happened again. He glanced over discretely at the tail of his eye.

He'd never seen Sujin fidget before. Didn't know her bones were capable of such a function but he had felt her jiggling knee knock into his own and learned that even an ice princess like her got embarrassed. He swallowed the immense pride that erupted at the realization that he was the one making her act this way. Completely out of her character.

"It's our stop." She whispers staring at the floor, eyes refusing to look up.

He's tempted to ignore her and see if that will make her look at him, now that he's been the center of her attention- that hug is burned into his mind- he is greedy for more, her resistance makes him even more desperate.

But he wordlessly stands up instead sliding out of the seat and opening the back door for them, she only pauses minutely before skipping down the stairs and exiting the bus. Her short pleated skirt bounces precariously with every movement and he's temporarily distracted gazing at the smooth expanse of milky skin, why were the school skirts so short anyway? Sujin's barely reached her knee, stopping in the meat of her thigh. Maybe he should start a school petition to get longer skirts for the girls. The boys probably wouldn’t be in agreement though. Perverts.

His stomach clenches at the thought of others staring too, maybe he could at least convince her to tie the sweater around her waist instead of wearing it normally. It was worth a try at least.

"We probably shouldn't walk in together, your fangirls will go cra--"

He interrupts her, not paying at all to what she's suggesting because he has no intentions of separating from her. She's so exhausting with all this push and pull honestly. He already told her that they don't matter.

"Isn't your skirt too short?"

He keeps walking without looking over at her, realizing too late how bold his question is.

He stops when he realizes that she's no longer beside him, twisting left and right before turning around and seeing her a few paces behind. He almost sighs in relief much more familiar with this particular emotion etched on her face, annoyance and mild rage- the patented princess look™️ and he backs up looking at her with a lifted brow, silently questioning her inactivity.

"What did you say to me Han Seojun?" She admonishes staring at him like he's grown another head and she’s ready to decapitate them both, she also steps into his space tilting her angry face to glare directly into his face. She looks prepared to murder him and hide the body.

He's not stupid enough to repeat his gutsy idiotic question, he very much likes his face the way it's currently arranged. He might be stupid but he's not that stupid.

"Me? Nothing. I would never say anything, I don't deserve to speak in your presence." He flutters his eyelashes dramatically, speaking in an exaggerated cute voice and she stares blankly at first. Both of them searching the others face before the tension is snapped like a rubber band and she pushes him in the chest, he almost whines reaching out to grab her wrist before he sees the small smile on her face, its hidden instantly behind the curtain of her hair when she moves away but he sees it and he feels his chest palpitate.

He stands staring in wonder. Lost in her spell.

He's never been a gracious loser but she gives him no chance in the matter.

He stares at her back, cheeks hurting as beams at her bounding off in his sweater. It's hers now he will never be able to wear it again without remembering her in it, it's been ruined in the best possible way.

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Chorong struggles to carry all the cards he pushes at him, the female population seems to have decided that he was sick and his return results in high pitched screams of his name and a constant stream of food and gifts being shoved in his direction, despite his refusal. He's wandering the halls arm filled with the gifts when he runs into Sujin, her face brightens upon seeing him before she glances down at his arms. The pretty smile is thwarted before it can even comes to full fruition, her eyes turning cold before she stomps past him.

He smirks at her back, chuckling as Chorong stares in confusion before asking, "What's wrong with her?" He shakes his head before handing the bigger boy all the unwanted gifts, her smile was worth more than all of this anyway.

Lunch can't come soon enough and he happily swaggers into the bustling room, oblivious to the amount of hungry eyes that latch onto his form. His own eyes too busy locking on one figure and one figure alone.

The seat across from her is conveniently empty and he laughs into his sleeve when Jukyeong waves him over, smiling with conspiration at him pointing at the empty seat without an ounce of subtlety, giving him a thumbs up. He can't control his laughter when Sujin turns to the girl and to hide her damning thumb the clumsy girl pokes herself in the eye. He definitely owed her now that looked mighty painful.

Suho nods at him as he takes his seat, he returns the gesture. Watching as the usually stoic boy reaches across to comfort his girlfriend, stroking her hair and blowing gently into her teary red eye as she whines loudly.

He opens his backpack taking out the food the girl avoiding him like the plague had given him just this morning. The dumplings are perfect this time she's clearly figured out a technique now, and when he bites into them a delicious umami flavor explodes on his tongue. He groans in pleasure before stuffing another dumpling in his mouth eagerly.

"Wow those look amazing! Did your mom make them?" Su-ah calls across the table and he freezes mid-chew instinctively looking at the real culprit and her eyes are already on him, wide and then pleading. He knows what she's begging from him but he really really wants to disobey and tell everyone that she made them for him. That the same Kang Sujin, who served men roundhouse kicks and resting bitch faces for lunch had made him food and was sitting there eating a lunch he had prepared for her.

It sounds so domestic and he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from doing something she'll regret.

But she's not ready it's too evident and he's not inconsiderate nor selfish. Whatever this is, it's far too new and fragile for him to throw it to the wolves before it's on stable grounding.

"No my mom didn't make it." He answers honestly and he can feel the cold air wafting off Sujin in frigid waves and then he feels a sharp kick to his ankle, he has to grab her feet with his legs to stop her from delivering another blow. He probably shouldn't find her violent tendencies so attractive. He clearly isn't right in the head.

"Someone else made it. Someone special." He continues trying not to wince as she tries to attack him again. Immediately the table erupts into ohs and everyone starts talking at once except her best friends who look on with smirks, Su-ah playfully winking at him.

"Someone special? Who? Who made it? Do you have a girlfriend?"

Sujin spontaneously starts choking on her blueberry milk, the very one he'd packed in her lunch bag this morning the pale blue liquid spilling out the corners of her lips. He passes her a napkin immediately, their fingers brushing as she takes the paper from his grip wiping her face and looking sheepish once she realizes that all eyes are on her now.

"Are you okay?" He asks amused, looking at her with a smile barely hidden. So fucking cute.

"Yeah don't worry about me." She breezily replies struggling to escape from his tight grip under the table, unbeknownst to everyone there. But her cold statement only reminds me of their meeting in the hospital. Her words echoing in his heart, I'm going to worry about you. Who are you to tell me not to? Let me do what I want. Hearing those words made him want to stupidly put himself in more scenarios that would result in her concern, maybe he'd get another hug. Or a even a ki--

"Don't think we forgot! Who made you this food Seojun-ah?" Chorong breaks his concentration and he stares incredulously at the other boy, his words were meant to trick everyone else but his best friend should know who he was referring to; he'd been the one to deliver the food for him after all. Wasn't it clear who he liked? Who might be making him food in return?

He sighs shaking his head, glancing up at Sujin from under his fringe feeling warm all over.

It's hard to tail him without making it too obvious but she tells Jukyeong and Su-ah that she has something to do before running after Seojun at a distance. She misses the knowing look on both of their faces as they watch her conspicuously hide behind a very thin tree. He had offered to wait for her but she didn't need his fanclub seeing them leaving together, they were so possessive of the boy. It didn't matter that he never showed any interest in them they were all still convinced that he belonged to them.

She didn't see him making food for any of them so she didn't know how they reached this asinine conclusion but she'd rather stay off their radar.

"Are you practicing to be a national spy? Why didn't you come when I offered to wait for you?" They are far from the school now, miles but she still looks around nervously before speeding up finally allowing them to walk side by side. He looks over at her fondly, she looks away unable to maintain eye contact when he's acting like this. It doesn't help that she can feel her walls weakening, she was tempted to accept his offer earlier. To walk with him side by side and let everyone see, she was losing her mind.

"I didn't want to be murdered by your girls." She teases, the words fall flat because as soon as she utters them she feels sick to her stomach.

A huge hand suddenly wraps around her wrist halting her, warm even through the stick material of the gifted sweater.

She turns to look at him bewildered, even more so at the hard look on his face. Those exotically sloping eyes even thinner than usual as he pulls her closer. She gulps, hard. Looking at him as his eyes peruse her face slowly, full of dark intention her blood simmers hot under the matching gaze.

"They aren't my girls. You know that." The emphasis and bite on the word makes her uneasy, refusing to think about the implications of his words. A sheen of sweat raises on her back, and she gently tugs her arm away scoffing to tear through the thick cloud of tension that is loitering between them.

"I was just joking. You don't have to be so serious. Let's go." She awkwardly rubs at her wrist before bolting away, scared to continue this line of conversation. Something has changed between them and she has no idea how and if they can go back to the way things were.

A little voice in her head whispers, Is that really what want you?

How is she supposed to know what she wants? Up until this point that has never mattered to anyone, she was just expected to do as she was told. Speak when spoken to. Everything about this is foreign and terrifying. Knowing that he'll be there to catch her if she falls is more nerve wrecking than anything she's faced thus far.

It's better not to think about it especially with where they're going, but thinking about that makes her even more nervous. She fidgets with the sleeve of the huge sweater, tugging at the extra material that folds over her hands. She suddenly realizes that she's completely covered in Seojun, this wasn't her best idea but she can't bring herself to remove the sweater.

She's never felt so warm.

"You can wait inside, I need to get something." He suddenly pats her head ruffling her hair and she reaches up to push his hand away only to be entranced by the grin on his face, has his smile always been that illuminant or is this reserved just for her?

She nods frozen watching him walk further and further away, until he turns a corner and disappears. She takes a deep breath centering herself before, able to breathe easier now without him sucking up all the air with his magnetic energy.

It's weird being back at the hospital especially alone, she hesitates at the entrance before finally entering. She expects trouble at the front desk seeing as how she's not family but the nurses smile at her knowingly.

"You're back. Room 105. Straight down the hall."

She shifts uncomfortably but nods her head in gratitude before walking down the hall. There are a row of free seats and she eases down into one, Seojun still isn't back and she can't very well just go into the room. She's basically a stranger, right?

Luckily she brought along homework, she can put this time to good use and complete some while Seojun gets whatever he needs that so important that he abandoned her all alone.

Minutes trickle by and she gets lost in her history homework highlighting dates and names of Kings, stopping at King Cheoljong when she hears the patter of footsteps and instinctively she glances up meeting huge round bespectacled eyes.

"Unnie! What are doing here?" Gowoon rushes over grabbing her hands, she flinches at the sudden touch on her rough hands and she coughs discretely pulling away, tucking the mutilated appendages away. She smiles disarmingly to ease any offenses that movement might have caused. The younger girl smiles back easily, not commenting at all on the action. She mentally thanks her.

"I heard your mother was hospitalized, I thought it would be okay if I visited her?" She suddenly feels extremely insecure about her presence here. Why had she assumed that she was welcome here after only meeting them once? She was getting too confident and it was a dangerous way to live, it often led to heartache.

Like now, she could pretend that it didn't matter if Seojun's mother didn't want to see her but if she was rejected it would hurt, she was the first maternal figure that had ever shown her any type of authentic kindness. Jukyeong's mom was ardent about regaling how pretty she thought she was but she'd heard that growing up, from her father as he bragged about how many suitors she would have and how resourceful that would be. So the words didn't do much but remind her of that, her supposed beauty had been weaponized long ago. She hated the constant reminder, as if her looks were all she had to offer to the world.

You didn't feel that way when he said it though. You liked it.

She shakes her head clearing away such traitorous thoughts.

"Unnie, of course you're welcome. Mom will be so happy to see you. I just meant why are you out here, come on let's go greet her!"

She barely has a chance to stuff her book back into her bag before the eager girl is yanking her away. She tries to fight the hold but it's useless and with a swipe of her hand Gowoon slides open the door, tugging her into the airy hospital room.

Her heart thunders in her chest.

She wants to disappear.

"Mom we're here!" Gowoon announces happily vibrating with youthful energy. Her eyes are glued to the checkered floor as she bows silently in greeting.

"H-hello again. I don't know if you remember me but I'm--"

"Sujin sweetie! Why are you acting so formal? Come, come. How have you been? Are you eating all your meals?" The older woman bulldozes past her stilted greeting, pointing to an empty chair next to her bed. She swallows before walking over and sitting down. Gowoon ambles over too hopping onto the edge of her mother's bed, immediately launching into a retelling of her day. She listens heart heavy at being so easily invited into such an intimate moment.

"What about you Sujin? How was your day?" She jumps at the inquiry, looking up to see both women watching her avidly waiting for her reply. This feels foreign, nobody has ever asked her about her day before.

"Um...it was okay. I got a 100 on my math test. I'm eating all my meals. I...um I had a good lunch." She stutters out foolishly adding the last line, thankful that Seojun isn't here to hear the praise who knows how he would have behaved? Surely his mother and sister don’t know that he has been making her food so the comment will be harmless.

An easy smile slides across the mother's face, "Is that so? I'm glad you enjoyed your lunch dear. Great job on your test! If only these kids would come home with news like that." She pokes Gowoon in her belly, to which the other girl folds her arm and humphs sticking out her tongue.

"We can't all be Kang Sujin, beautiful and intelligent like I would get that lucky?" She blushes embarrassed at the compliment waving her arm to brush the words away.

"Hey! What are you saying? You're my sister. I have enough of both of those for both of us." A deep voice sounds from the door and she turns to look at the boy, the fragrant scent of flowers filling the room. He crosses the room in long steps depositing them in an empty vase on the windowsill. They are in a perfect position to receive all the sun's magnificent rays.

So that's where he had been.

Gowoon scoffs at him, grumbling about narcissism and big headed boys but she grows silent as Seojun walks over to her.

He hands a smaller bundle to Gowoon, unlike the white lilies in the vase this bouquet is vibrant with hues of vivid blues, purples and fuchsia , it matches the girls personality perfectly and the smile that laces across her pretty face is enough to singlehandedly sustain the flowers.

"You got me flowers too?" Gowoon asks voice full of suspicion as she accepts the flowers, dipping her nose to sniff at them. She hums excitedly clutching them closer to her chest beaming at her brother.

"I was already there. I figured why not?" He tries to downplay the kind act but she catches the slight pink on his high cheekbones.

It's such a wholesome scene. She feels as if she's intruding by simply being there, especially when she sees the serene smile on their mother’s face watching her children, her pride is palpable.

"Thanks oppa."

He shrugs rubbing his neck, "You're welcome brat."

"What about that bouquet who's that for?" Gowoon innocently asks pointing to another bouquet that was partially hidden in his bomber jacket, bringing her attention to the last bundle in his hands inside a brown bag with a small blue bow tied at the base of the stems.

The pink changes to red.

He awkwardly shuffles under all their watchful eyes, staring out the window with intense focus as if it as the secrets to life.

"Oh my god, I know!" Gowoon exclaims snickering now as she bounces gleefully on the bed. She squirms in her seat trying to think of a believable excuse to leave the room, it couldn't really be for her right? He wasn't crazy enough to give her flowers in front of his family. Right?

"You have a crush on one of the nurses don't you? Seriously oppa, they're all too old for you. You're going to make them uncomfortable, they're just doing their job." Gowoon scolds him wagging her finger and pushing her glasses up the small bridge of her button nose.

Oh.

That made sense. They were for one of the nurses, probably the pretty that had allowed them to stay so late the other night. She had once again gotten ahead of herself, stupid. She should be relieved anyway this was better, if he had another crush then this thing between them would fade away and she'd stop feeling like she was walking on eggshells around him.

"What are you babbling about now? This isn't one of her dramas. I told you I was already there they aren't a big deal. Here, take it." He glares at his sister and shocks Sujin when he turns and thrusts the delicate bouquet at her, roughly placing them in her lap when she doesn’t accept them right away before taking the second empty seat next to his mother's bed. He pointedly avoids eye contact with all of them and she stares down at the flowers in her lap with her mouth open.

They are lovely, deep blues at the base that lightens as your eyes traverse the length of the flowers, baby blue fades to a piercing white making the bouquet look like a work of art itself.

"Oh they're for unnie. Okay. Good I thought you were trying to flirt." Gowoon dismisses the flowers now, turning back to her mother and continuing her story about her day ignoring them both now. She can feel Seojun's eyes hot on her face but she's unable to look away from the flowers in her lap.

Idiot.

She watches the family easily conversing never a lull in their animated conversation and she finally excuses herself, lying about going to find a bathroom. Nobody questions why she's bringing the flowers with her gratefully, she has no plausible reason for why she can't put the flowers down. Seojun stares at her unblinking but he lets her escape without question.

She leans against the solid wall outside the room as soon as the door slides shut, closing her eyes.

In, out. In, out. She coaches herself gulping in air pushing away the light-headed sensation at the base of her skull.

"You still have these pathetic attacks?" Her blood runs cold as the voice she hasn't heard in weeks siphons all the air she had just gifted her empty lungs.

No. No, it can't be.

But once she forces her eyes open she sees that her nightmare is indeed a reality.

Her father stares at her with contempt, his lips thin as they are pulled into a familiar sneer. He's wearing his white lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck and a clipboard in his hands.

Panic rises instantly as she looks at him, breathing is now impossible.

"You're lucky this is where we met. I got your present. It was perfect for the fireplace. I humored your little tantrum but it's over now. I expect you back home, tomorrow. You have another date with the boy you stood up last time. Thankfully your face was worth something. " His tone is conversational but she can see the rage swirling under the façade, his fists are white knuckled on the clipboard. He's barely holding himself back.

She clutches the flowers tighter desperate for support. She feels like she's free falling from a tremendous height.

"What are you doing here? What business do you have here?" He stares at her and she has to get him away, he can't see Seojun they can't meet here, especially outside his mother’s room. The other boy might do something reckless and her father looks dangerous right now, this could end badly. She has to protect him.

"I came to see you. To tell you to sign the papers." She replies with courage she's not currently feeling, it wavers as her father's eye become colder and penetrating.

"I'm not signing anything, you are my property. You better come to your senses before you make me really angry." He threatens her calmly in the hallway, as nurses and doctors walk by bowing to him in respect.

"I'll leave first." She whispers attempting to sidestep around him but he grips her wrist as she passes him, stopping her escape.

He eyes the flowers in her arms and she protectively clutches them in her arms shifting them away from him.

"Don't continue to piss me off. I will make you regret it."

She's ashamed at how frightened his words make her feel, she'd thought that she was strong enough to face him but she was wrong. Stupidly so. She feels small under his gaze her wrist crushing under his powerful grip but she's too scared to even pull away, powerless to stop his abuse.

"People are watching." The method her mother has always used, he might not care about her but he cares about his appearance. His hold loosens at her words until she's free and without pause she scurries away, her feet bringing her to safety until she's outside. She's panting so hard that her body is shaking, kneeling over with the bouquet between her knees.

She sees drops landing on the floor and wonders when it started raining, only to look up and see clear blue skies not a cloud in sight.

His wife whimpered on the ground clutching her face, bright red mark on her swollen cheek. He shook his smarting hand as he tightly gripped the papers in his hand that she had handed him. She had been stupid enough to actually bring this to him, he is tempted to slap her again.

Emancipation papers.

It would have been hilarious if it hadn't enraged him so much, who did she think to defy him? To try to leave when he wasn't done using her? The very idea was preposterous and he would beat it out of her as soon as he dragged her back home. This had gone on long enough, her little rebellion. He had humored it expecting her to come crawling back once he turned off her credit cards, but that hadn't been enough.

He hadn't expected her to have any friends to turn to.

He thrusted the disgusting papers into the blazing fire that he'd lit, smiling darkly as they burnt and turned to ashes. This was how he planned on dealing with her newfound defiance, he would burn it out of her.

The disobedient fool didn't know how good she truly had it, she was lucky all he did was smack her around a little. At least she had a father that cared enough to beat her.

He'd grown up all alone, rich beyond belief but left to fend for himself in hotel after hotel. His parents were only that by title, he'd been raised by a rotating stream of nannies and butlers. Nothing he did was enough to get their attention, even starting fights or cursing at teachers. All his actions were dismissed easily with a envelope of money, teachers and students all sucking up to him and enabling his behavior.

He'd learned at a young age that anybody could be bought and wrong and right was something that only the poor had to adhere by, he was above the law, transcending morality. He could do anything and nobody would stop him. Nobody would dare.

Except his own daughter, perhaps it was karma. A punishment for all his bad deeds, he laughs humorously at the idea. He's getting old now to have thoughts like that. Regardless of what she wants he has no plans of letting her go, she's his to do with as he wishes. That had been the only reason he'd married her pathetic mother and the only reason he hadn't forced her to get an abortion once he learned the sex of the baby. She'd been a beauty despite her pitiful background and he'd hoped that a child of theirs would at least be something worth looking at.

In the end she was, his business partners following her form as she bloomed into a woman. He hadn't cared about their wandering eyes planning on selling her to the highest and most advantageous bidder, and he had found a buyer. Someone that needed him too, combined they could build a formidable partnership. He had a son Sujin's age and he had easily offered his daughter to sweeten the deal.

It was time to bring home his wayward child by any means possible. These childish games were over.

"It's good to see you son. Have you been healthy? Eating well?" Suho sits down bowing his head in greeting to his father, it feels surreal to be sitting here with him but they've come a long way. Therapy has also done wonders to rebuilding their broken relationship, they attend twice a week. Now he can look at his father without pain and guilt scratching at his skin.

"I'm well. Thank you for agreeing to see me. I have to discuss something important with you." He cuts to the chase, unsure of the outcome of this conversation but Sujin hasn't been talking to him and he knows that they need his father's help. They can't take her father down alone, they're just kids.

"It sounds serious. Are you okay?" His father asks voice thick with genuine concern, his brows furrowed.

"It's not about me. It's someone else. I can't tell you much because it's not my story but I need to ask you this, if you had to choose between supporting me or a business partner who would you choose?" His father looks taken back by the question, searching his face with confused eyes.

"Son, what are you talking about? What business partner? Why are you asking this all of a sudden?"

He leans in staring directly into his father's eyes, he can now admit their resemblance as he stares at the face that looks so much like his.

"Dad, please just answer my question. If I needed your support, would you give it to me no matter what?" He questions, watching as his father stares at him in confusion and he waits patiently.

"Suho. I would choose you over anyone, I still need to prove myself if you're still asking me questions like that." He feels a tinge of guilt as his father shuffles away looking at him with a sad smile, he can't deny that. They've come far but there's still a part of him that remembers his father after his mother's passing, remembers blaming his father for years for his friends death. He's working on overcoming those scars but they are deep, beyond his flesh. Etched deep into his heart.

"One day I'm going to need your support. I need you to come without question. I need you to stand beside me." He stares at his father, seven years old again begging for his father's attention, his love.

Unlike his memories though, this time his father grabs his hand shooting him a melancholy smile, before nodding firmly.

"I'll be there. I'll stand beside you son."

Sujin is acting strange, more so than usual. Su-ah can't pinpoint what's wrong but the other girl is more shifty than usual and always staring off deep in thought, not even Seojun seems to know what's wrong with her. She had questioned the boy, he seemed as frustrated as her telling her that she'd started acting like this two days ago.

Nothing she does gets the other girl to talk, Sujin has resolutely slammed her walls firmly back in place. She watches her in the corner of her eye, sighing at the fake smile on the girl’s face it’s obvious to detect them now with all the real ones she's witnessed usually in a certain bad boy's presence.

Taehoon leans into her side, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulder and she looks back at Seojun watching him watch the other girl. Jukyeong's occupying the space next to Sujin so the boy has no choice but to walk behind her, she can feel his longing. Wishes that Sujin would allow herself to be happy, full-heartedly. She notices how Sujin only allows herself to have Seojun in bursts, pushing him away when things become too much for her to handle. It's not fair to the other boy but she knows it's all her friend has to offer right now.

As they push open the school doors, she sees a swarm of students blocking the way. They are talking excitedly pointing and staring at something she can't see. She stands on her tiptoes trying to get a better view of what's happening, impatiently she pushes past the gossiping girls forcing her way to the front.

There's a guy she's never seen before, her eyes widen when she sees the motorcycle getting a sense of deja vu before glancing back at Seojun, staring impassively at the unknown boy. Everyone begins to look between the two boys, the resemblance is uncanny especially with this stranger showing up on a bike too. They look like doppelgangers, like when the evil twin shows up suddenly in a drama.

"Kang Sujin? Where is she?" The boy shouts to the crowd at large, looking around and she watches Seojun's eyes narrow icing over until they are glacial cold. Then Sujin steps forward looking unimpressed by this show, her resting bitch face in full swing despite the handsome stranger’s grin.

"Why are you looking for me?" She challenges, staring him down and all eyes are on them watching this unexpected meeting.

The boy whips a leg over the sleek bike, dismounting in one fluid motion. He's tall, even taller than Seojun and she can hear her school mates swooning at the mysterious boy, whispering about him being handsome and wishing they were Sujin. Fickle asses, they don't even know anything about him.

"I came to make sure you don't stand me up this time." He answers with a bite, there's a humorless grin on his face. A chill runs down her spine. She shifts closer to Sujin subconsciously, an innate desire to protect her flaring up.

Realization breaks on Sujin's face and she looks away, annoyance clear on her countenance.

"What do you want?" She finally asks looking exasperated with this very public conversation.

"I want the date you owe me. Let's go."

Her eyes narrow at his command not appreciating the way he's talking to her best friend, who is this rude entitled punk? Satisfaction rolls over her as Seojun steps up easily making his presence known as he scowls at the boy.

"Who the hell are you? She’s not going anywhere with you." He interrupts disdain dripping in every syllable as he steps in front of Sujin blocking her completely.

The boy raises a taunting brow at the move, before sneering cruelly right back.

"Who are you to ask me that? Get out of my face asshole." The other boy aggressively barks and she gasps as Seojun steps forward purposely raising his fist but before he can draw back and initiate the move, a dainty hand reaches out capturing his fist. Sujin briskly stops him lowering his hand and she watches as she doesn't release him immediately, standing side by side holding hands. They look like a team.

She's never seen anyone disarm Seojun like that before, Sujin's hand on him seems to evaporate all his rage and he is docile in the wake.

"Don't talk to him like that. You're starting to piss me off, I stood you up for a reason." Sujin steps forward and she wonders if her best friend knows how she looks, stepping in front of Seojun now seemingly defending him back.

The new boy sneers gazing down at their still joined hands, an ugly mean look on his face.

Then he steps forward swiftly and leans down roughly shoving Seojun away, much to the boy's vocal chagrin he stumbles back a few steps before he lunges at the other boy but it's too late he has already whispered something inaudible into Sujin's ear. Sujin steps in front of Seojun again blocking him before he can attack the strange boy, he stops immediately not wanting to hurt the smaller girl. He glares over Sujin’s shoulder, face enraged.

Sujin visibly deflates at the words and she hates the vindictive smile that stretches across the other boys face, she wishes she could punch it off. Who is this asshole?

Sujin seems lost in thought again, miles away even though she's right in front of them. When her face hardens she knows that the girl has reached a conclusion.

"Fine." Sujin finally steps forward, eyes wavering now as she glares defeated at the other boy. Her shoulders are lower now as if she's lost some of her fight, it breaks her heart. "I'll come with you." She weakly agrees voice barely above a whisper.

"Sujin! You don't have to go with him!" She yells leaving her boyfriend's arms and latching onto Sujin's elbow, sending a murderous glare to the asshole who's forcing her friend. She tugs Sujin back, refusing to let her go. She argues as Sujin peels her hands away, smiling sadly at her eyes shiny and hard.

"It's okay. I have to." She grasps at her best friends arm as she walks forward until she's right beside the boy's bike. The whole school is watching with bated breath, unsure of what exactly they're viewing but captivated nonetheless.

He tosses her an extra helmet without warning and it slams into Sujin's chest harshly and she bristles at the other boys callous action.

Sujin starts to put on the helmet before Seojun steps forward again, grabbing her wrist and she lowers the helmet staring up at him. They both stand frozen, eyes locked and she watches as Seojun silently pleads with Sujin, his face is loose and every emotion is written in the frown on his face. Sujin falters momentarily swaying into the tall boy their bodies dangerously close, her own eyes shining even brighter but then the strange boy revs his engine bursting their bubble and Sujin jumps backwards pulling away from Seojun.

Her heart jumps into her throat as she watches Sujin's mouth something to Seojun before turning away, helmet slid down her head roughly before climbing onto the bike. Seojun looks completely crushed when she wraps her arms around the other boys waist, straddling the huge bike.

"You should learn your place." The other boy scowls triumphantly, revving the engine once more.

"Shut up. Let's go." Sujin interrupts the showboating, staring straight ahead. Looking at Seojun she sees exactly why the other girl is avoiding looking at him, if heartbreak was a person it would be him.

Without another word, the mysterious boy knocks the kickstand up and squeezes the throttle and within seconds the bike roars to life, leaving them all behind Sujin's long hair bellowing behind her as they disappear down the road.

She looks over at Seojun, Suho and Jukyeong both look worried too. He stares after Sujin and the unknown boy fuming silently before he spins around, stomping away without a word.

Sujin, I hope you know what you're doing. This might be too much for him to handle.

She stares helplessly as Seojun stalks away, Chorong running after him but unable to keep up with his long gait. He doesn’t want to be caught, shutting them all out.

#true beauty #junjin #bring me to life #bmtl #a cameo #guess who it is #han seojun #kang sujin #it started cute but it can never stay that way with these two #oops #angst #true beauty kdrama

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