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suna-reversed · 4 years ago

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Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie, or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness]

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same.

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin.

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher,

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself,

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him”

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about.

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out.

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string.

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes.

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened.

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face.

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something,

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt.

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance.

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing?

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis.

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting.

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?”

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

- “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”-

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far.

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjkxreader #jujutsukaisenxreader #yujiitadori #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #itadori x reader #sukuna #sukuna headcanons #jjk headcanons #sukuna smut #gojo saturo x reader #jujutsu Kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #sukunafluff

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insomniac-dot-ink · 4 years ago

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Hey! A new wlw short story is up on my Patreon. Check it out! And please consider becoming a Patron for more wlw writing and more. As a struggling artist anything helps.

Here’s a free preview:

Headlights Girl

Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the land, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they shrank away from my gaze deep into their cages into the nooks and crannies. Most things do.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness and sleep. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There have been stranger kids born in the age of spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for small articles and mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy with fire on his breath. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father calls it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He doesn’t look at me much. And I know what he means. I know what he means when he calls it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. They could barely afford to send me to That School. I didn’t want to be there either.

We weren’t the same, not really. None of us are the same age and most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons under flat mattresses. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or have a pig-nose or blackhole for a nose. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he runs away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I’m 16 when I heel-toe my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with a collection of loose clothes, change, a bath towel, sewing kit, a bible written in a language I don’t speak, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he’s at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at Target and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There’s a beer in front of his idle hands and he glances at the bag on my shoulder.

He sighs like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafs through a wad of cash he kept in a safe in the garage. He hands me almost three hundred bucks and we nod at each other. I’m out the door before the midnight bus arrives.

I watch the headlights of the bus approach through dense summer night and think it must be like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I get on the bus and kick my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, I cross my arms over my chest, and watch the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet move like tides. They toss me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I taste the painted deserts toward the west. I dip my toes into the largest cities with lights brighter than my own. I graze my palms on neon signs and hunch my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touches me. They don’t come close enough when I open my eyes and they see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that will smite them.

I find my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gather. I don’t talk much, I don’t like to, and people stare at me whether I’m speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it aches. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’ve never seen a movie in any theatres, but I can imagine what it’s like.

I like the ocean cities best with their pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding white paths, and crushed seashell parking lots. I like the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkles from the ocean water as it sun-dries. I camp out on beaches and bum cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I’m good at taking care of myself once I get in a rhythm.

Sometimes, or often, I dream of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dream of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I am weighted down through the cold to where no human has ever been before. I open my eyes there, I open them all the way, lightning-bright, and in my dreams, the salt doesn’t sting. It doesn’t hurt, instead, I light up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I do something good then. Maybe I do something good and bring the sun to places that have forgotten it.

I meet Mags on the beach. She’s got one eye and five teeth and carries around string and scissors everywhere. She smells like seawater and roasting kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes are neat despite her leather-cracked skin and her arms and neck are covered with tattoos of shipwrecks. She cackles and pulls me aside the first night we meet.

“What’s your name?” Her voice is old creaking wood. I am quiet. “I could give you one.” She offers with a grin that is more empty space than anything.

I shake my head. “Nana.”

“What do you like, kid?”

I shake my head again.

Mags likes me more than I deserve. I pocket her last pair of socks when she’s not looking. She never mentions it and drags me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She takes me to the soup restaurant for something that isn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackles, she spits when she talks, people glare at her as well.

I think she’s normal, not touched by the spirits, but she likes me more than most people and I don’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snort. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snap.

“Lippy-wild thing. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heats the needle before she uses it, red hot and untouchable. She dips it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she calls them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin with color and movement. She shows me on her right foot first, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It takes her six hours to make a little shipwreck right above her big toe. It’s a schooner going under and I’m the only witness to the way she makes the waves come to life and crash against its sides. I can’t look away and I forget to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washes another needle. She heats it red-hot. She dips it in ink and hands it to me.

I practice all over my thighs first, there’s enough meat there and it’s easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looks like nothing but squiggles, a wobbly stick figure on a skateboard, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practice designs in the sand. Mags takes me to the museum on Sundays. They’re free on Sundays.

Something stirs in my chest, even as the guards yell at me about how flash photography isn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I’m shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rots roars to life in my chest.

I stab in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake next, and then finally, something good, something that gives people a reason to stare. I make it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than the others.

I don’t want to leave the ocean city. Mags says she has to keep moving though. She gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackles. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winks as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I want to make her pinky-promise like I’m a kid again and begging one of the other kids to tell me if I’m actually beautiful when I close my eyes. I can’t do that; I wave as she totters up the steps of the bus and is taken away with the tides of her own feet. ------------ I get an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked to them first and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but coach surfing and camping out on beaches is a tiring pastime. Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie run a tattoo shop together. Davies walks like he’s never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie has a throw-pillow that says “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies is nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie has topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’s been asked to leave a number of stores before the children start staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me, it’s not that type of town. I rankle at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. I brush off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie calls me “Shadow” and I think it’s a joke. Davies says I must be possessed by the ghost of a dead star and now I’m nothing but a blackhole: take everything in and let nothing out.

Neither of them lets me touch a needle in those first six months. They have me practice on pig skin and stand by their shoulder as they work. I feel like a dental assistant except I’m the hanging light above shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stand at their shoulder as they draw thick lines and thin dots and make hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They ask me to stop blinking and stand still. I almost walk out and find a new cliff to crash against, almost. No one had ever expected me to show up to something before. No one cared if I went to school or when I got home. And no one kept any tabs on me after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, it didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow.” She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I am eloquent in the morning.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want the desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

I grumble. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before. I tell myself I’ll just try it out, no harm in having a bit of a savings anyway. No harm in seeing what the fuss was about.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with my eyes. I don’t let up though. I put on pants for this, after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder now.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, he had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me now as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “The line’s barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” He chuckled darkly. His grin is crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.

“Look at you go. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun before the new year. I tell myself I’ll only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I don’t have to actually stay. I’ll just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chases after girls with eyes that glow.

I don’t break my lease. I draw cartoon heroes in speedos on tipsy college girls who swear they’re sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I have to give two refunds for a duck that turns out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with nothing but doors ahead of her. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I’m best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It’s dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hide my smile when she goes to my bosses and points at it while jumping up and down. The best thing she’s ever seen. She should pay us double. Where did you get this girl? I try not to blink so they can’t see the wetness under my eyes.

Sometimes I still stand by the bus stop to check who’s coming off. I don’t expect to see Mags again so soon, but sometimes I want to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

🌸Check out my Patreon for the full story! 🌸

#wlw #urban fantasy #writing #found family #sapphic #short story #femslash #writers on tumblr #writeblr #magical realism #patreon #my work #long post #long post cw

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heliads · 4 years ago

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The Value of a Friend

Peter Parker is fairly surprised when a classmate, Y/N L/N, is able to figure out his secret identity as Spider-Man. He’ll come to rely on her over the next few months, although he may make a surprise discovery about his feelings for her on the school trip to Europe.

masterlist

Peter Parker’s legs swing absentmindedly over the edge of the roof. There’s nothing much going on right now- brick, stucco, and metal as far as the eye can see. The lights of the city that never sleeps reflect off of the windows; a thousand sights and sounds and happenings littered down the boulevards. Despite all the comings and goings, the rush of people across the streets, nothing major has happened all night. Peter knows he technically shouldn’t be hoping for crime, but he does want at least one thing to happen to justify him staying up this late on patrol duty.

Peter’s got the usual mask pulled down over his face, disguising the heavy circles under his eyes. He may have superhuman strength and durability, but his powers don’t appear to help him run on less sleep. However, Peter’s used to staying up long nights patrolling. This particular moonlit outing isn’t unusual.

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye, and Peter shifts to glance over at the orderly streets behind him. There- a girl walking down a sidewalk, her pace brisk and hurried to steer her quickly through an alleyway. With a rush, Peter realizes that he recognizes the girl. Her name is Y/N L/N, she’s in some of his classes. He wouldn’t exactly consider her a best friend, maybe more of an acquaintance. This isn’t due to any specific animosity, Peter just never really got the chance to talk to her. Sometimes, however, he wishes he had.

Y/N isn’t just smart like the other students in his class, she’s clever. Peter has seen the way her eyes light up when she figures something out, the same light that winks out from underneath her eyelashes when she laughs over a bad joke with her friends. Peter shakes himself for a second. Why is he thinking so much about her eyes? He shouldn’t have the way she smiles memorized at all, ready to call up at a moment’s notice.

Besides, Peter realizes with a dull chill, Y/N’s eyes are different from Peter��s on one grand scale. Y/N has no superpowered senses, and so she cannot tell that there are two or three men shadowing her as she wends through the streets. Peter curses softly, realizing that the men are definitely following her. Without a second thought, he leaps down from the building, swinging towards them on ropes of spider silk.

Peter’s goal was to take them out before they got close enough to reach Y/N. However, they were too far away and it doesn’t look like a secret rescue will be happening tonight. They’ve already cornered her in a narrow street, hands pulling guns out of coat pockets. Peter acts as quickly as he can- spiderweb launched at one, dragging him back against the wall of the street. The other Peter takes on directly, aiming a blow at the man’s head that knocks him backward before Peter hits him again. Peter would usually tie the thugs up and leave them for some other soul to deal with, but the men are already running away without a second’s hesitation and he doesn’t much feel like trying to track them down.

There’s a soft sound behind him, like a gasp of breath, and Peter turns around to see Y/N standing there, looking shaken but unhurt. Peter panics for a moment before remembering that his mask is still snugly in place. She would have no way of knowing him. Peter takes a hesitant step closer, reaching out his hands to show that he means no harm. “I’m, uh, Spider-Man. Are you alright?”

Y/N shakes her head hastily. “No, I’m fine. Thank you for saving me from those guys.” Peter waves a hand. “No problem. All in the job description, you know?” Y/N laughs, but the sound dies slowly from her lips as she stares at him. Her head cocks slightly to the side, as if she’s considering something. She raises a hand slowly to point at him like she’s unsure of a truth but determined to say it nonetheless.

“Are you Peter Parker?” Peter stiffens, turning hurriedly to make sure that nobody could have heard her. Dimly, he realizes that he should have denied this first instead of acting like this was something to be hidden. “Uh, no. I don’t know who that is.” The lie sounds fake even to his own lips. A small smile is growing over Y/N’s lips, as if she’s incredulous. “You are. Peter Parker from chem class is Spider-Man.”

Peter figures that the game is up, so he tugs his mask from his head. Y/N’s eyes dart to his face, washing over every detail as if in awe. “It’s true. You’re actually Spider-Man?” Peter nods thickly. “How did you know it was me?” A slight blush forms in Y/N’s cheeks. “I, uh, you looked familiar.” Peter raises an eyebrow. “I was wearing a mask.” Y/N blushes harder. “You have the same voice. Is that better? You sound the exact same.”

Peter lets out a huff of breath at that. He can’t deny it- he’s messed around with voice settings on the suit before but never bothered to permanently give himself a different-sounding voice as Spider-Man. Now he’s paying the price for it. “Maybe.” A slight smile tugs at the corners of Y/N’s lips. “You were ready to be Spider-Man but you didn’t even have an excuse prepared to explain yourself?” Peter feels defensive. “Well, most people don’t actually figure it out. You’re the first, actually. Well, I had to tell Ned but only because he saw me crawling on the ceiling. I didn’t realize he was there, though. I don’t usually crawl on ceilings.”

Peter realizes he’s rambling and does his best to stop talking. Y/N’s smiling at him again, and he feels surprisingly fine about it. “I would hope not. Crawling on ceilings is kind of hard to explain away.” Peter scratches the back of his head, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, that’s kind of why I had to tell him.” Y/N flashes him a grin. “Well, I appreciate the rescue, Peter-Not-Spider-Man. I’ll see you in class?” Suddenly, Peter doesn’t want to leave. “I can walk you home if you like? I hear it’s kind of dangerous out here.” Y/N nods her approval. “Sure thing. Just make sure you put your mask back on first.”

Peter becomes friends with Y/N after that. There’s almost no way not to- she knows the biggest secret of his life, how could they not be friends? Ned is thrilled to find another ‘Friend of Spider-Man’, as he dubs Y/N, and the three of them get along surprisingly well. MJ, too, is glad to see Y/N around, although MJ has yet to discover Peter’s secret. At the rate he’s going, though, Peter has a shifting feeling that she’ll find out soon enough.

It’s after one of his late night patrol rounds that Peter finds himself knocking on Y/N’s window. He’s slumped against the window sill, hand pressed to his side. There was a mass robbery on the East Side, something Peter stupidly thought he could handle without a second thought. He stopped the robbery, that was true, but they’d managed to fire off several shots with some newfangled weaponry that even Tony would have to take a second look at. The result is this: a bloody cut on his side that doesn’t look like it will be going away any time soon.

After a couple of seconds, Y/N throws open her window. She leans out, eyes widening when she sees Peter still dressed in his Spider-Man suit. “What’s going on?” She hisses, then her gaze finds the bloody slit on his side. “What is that?” She glances behind her, as if making sure everyone is asleep, then gestures hurriedly for him to climb through the window after her. “Quick, come in.” Once Peter’s standing in her room, Y/N closes the window, then leans against it, staring at the blood on his hands and the nervous look in his eyes.

“What happened?” Peter grimaces. “Robbery. Bit off a little more than I can chew. Do you have a first aid kit? I think I need to get this bandaged up but if I go home now Aunt May will freak out. I can’t stress her anymore, and I don’t think Ned knows how to stop bleeding.” Y/N shakes her head. “Gotcha. Give me a second, I can grab some supplies.” Y/N heads out of her room, reappearing in a minute or so with a box of bandages and medical supplies held triumphantly in front of her.

She directs Peter to sit on a chair by her desk, and he does so, careful not to get any blood on, well, anything. Y/N takes a seat opposite him, bandages and an antibiotic for disinfecting the wound in her hands. Her brow furrows as she begins to treat the wound, and Peter can’t help but let his gaze linger across the determined look in her eyes, the slight curve of her lips as she focuses on the cut on his side.

After a while she straightens up, and Peter looks away hurriedly, feeling a slight blush heat up his cheeks. “I think that should hold you for a while. You said you had superhuman strength and stuff like that, right? You’ll probably be able to sleep it off.” Peter climbs back through the window, but just before he swings away he turns back, leaning his head through the opening to Y/N’s room. “Thanks a lot, Y/N. I mean it. I can’t think of anyone else I could turn to.” Y/N smiles at him, a smile that seems to light up the whole room. “No problem, Peter. If you’ve got my back, I’ve got yours.”

Peter is certainly grateful for his friendship with Y/N over the next couple of months. He ends up making a couple more stops by her room for help patching up various injuries, and when he has to deal with the aftermath of Tony’s death, she’s always there with some way to hear him out and cheer him up. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he would do without her.

When Peter gets word of the school trip to Europe, he thinks it’s the best thing that could happen to him in a while. Time to himself, with friends, touring interesting places. He’s hoping that a change in scene will finally let him breathe for a second, let him put aside the mask and suit and be Peter Parker once more. However, the appearance of the suit in his suitcase and one Nick Fury convinces him that this trip won’t just be a vacation, however much he wants it. Hopefully, he’ll have time to tell MJ how he feels in between the attacks of the elementals.

MJ. What is Peter supposed to do about MJ? He knows he has feelings for her, that much is obvious. He had a plan, carefully laid out steps that would culminate in Peter telling MJ he loves her and presenting her with a black dahlia necklace. However, as the fights with the elementals grow and grow, he has a feeling that won’t entirely work out. What is he supposed to do now?

He’s confessed his plan to Ned, just to hear another point of view. He told Y/N actually, at a different point in time. She’d seen the necklace and was wondering if he had a sudden taste in jewelry. It was strange, though, the second Peter had told her how he felt about MJ Y/N had gotten this sudden look, like she was shuttering the light in her eyes closed against the world. The sight of her, the smile slipping from her lips, made Peter feel like he’d done something terribly wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. Y/N seemed fine after that, but he did notice that she stopped talking about the dahlia necklace or anything in the plan at all.

Things with the elementals end up going from bad to worse. Peter finds out that the man he thought was his friend, Quentin Beck, was actually the one behind the elementals all along. In fact, the elementals were nothing more than elaborate holograms, and Peter had gone and given Beck control over E.D.I.T.H. in the form of Tony’s glasses. Mr. Stark’s last gift to him, and Peter had tossed it away in a moment of misplaced trust.

It’s not like Peter is alone, though. MJ found out about Peter’s secret identity as Spider-Man, and now she, Y/N, and Ned are figuring out how to take down Mysterio alongside Peter. Peter feels a sudden rush of gratitude as he looks back at his friends. With people like them, people that matter that much to him, Peter feels like he could take on the world. And with Mysterio’s control over E.D.I.T.H., he just may have to.

The battle ends up going surprisingly well. Peter manages to turn the tide on Mysterio, refusing to fall for any of the man’s schemes and tricks. In the end, he is able to wrest control of E.D.I.T.H. away from Mysterio, thus enabling him to remove all of the drones and end the man’s plans once and for all. Now that the fight is over, though, Peter almost doesn’t know what to do.

He finds himself stumbling down Tower Bridge, limping from all of the various injuries he’s managed to obtain during the fight. The first thought in his head is that he should look for Y/N, for the one girl he always turns to whenever he needs help. Then MJ runs out from among the cars, and Peter focuses instead on her. She dashes over to him, throwing her arms around him and telling him that yes, everyone is okay and yes, he saved them all.

Distantly, Peter can see the figures of Ned and Y/N approaching, but it’s alright. They’re his friends, he doesn’t have to worry about pulling his mask back on. Peter pulls away, fishing around in his pocket for the black dahlia necklace. He feels crushed to see that it’s in pieces, but MJ says something about how she likes it better broken. It’s funny, though- Y/N has always been able to fix things. To fix him.

Peter pushes Y/N out of his mind. He’s not thinking about his friend, he’s thinking about MJ. MJ, the girl he loves, the girl who is right in front of him. The girl who’s just leaned forward and kissed him. Peter lets himself kiss her back, lets himself lean into her and block out the rest of the world. There’s the screech of traffic echoing around him from the parts of the city that haven’t yet shut down, and that is what drags Peter back to reality.

They break apart after a few seconds. MJ starts to step away, saying something about how she should probably get going before too many people see familiar Midtown students with Spider-Man. Peter nods, noting that Ned and Y/N have changed direction upon seeing MJ head their way once more. There’s a strange expression on Y/N’s face, a strange emptiness that hadn’t been there before. Peter wants to go run after her, to say something to make that quiet sorrow go away, but his feet feel leaden in place and all he can do is watch as she walks away.

Peter gets back to his hotel room late that night. Ned files in after him, chuckling softly about how his best friend managed to save the day and get with MJ in one go. However, Ned’s face falls as he says this. “Did you really have to kiss her in front of Y/N, though?” Peter frowns over at his friend. “What do you mean?” Ned spreads his hands. “Well, you know, because Y/N likes you. I thought it would be kind of mean to kiss MJ when she was right there.”

Peter feels like the ground is falling away underneath his feet. “Y/N likes me?” Ned nods. “Didn’t you know? She’s had a crush on you for a while now. Sorry, Peter, I thought you knew. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” Peter waves away his friend’s apology, already heading to the door. Ned’s voice stops him. “You won’t be able to find her. She was scheduled to take an earlier trip home. Remember? It was planned out earlier in the month. She had to make it home early for some family reason, she talked about it on the flight.” Peter remembers this now, and his stomach turns at the thought of Y/N on that plane, all alone and stuck with the picture of him and MJ kissing.

Ned turns away to pack his suitcase, but Peter can’t think about anything productive at all. He’s beginning to realize that he’s made a very big mistake, something he can only hope to undo. There was a reason he hadn’t felt anything when he kissed MJ, when it had been awkward and emotionless. It wasn’t just because they were tired teenagers and didn’t know what to do, it was because he didn’t love her at all. No, the girl Peter loved is on a plane right now, and she thinks that Peter doesn’t care about her when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

What is he supposed to do? Y/N will hate him for this. Somehow, that one thought is enough to motivate him to reach towards his suitcase, to start packing again. He has to make it back, has to find his way home to tell Y/N how he really feels. He can only hope that Y/N will let him stick around long enough to say it.

Y/N doesn’t come to her window for a long time after Peter knocks. He’s almost beginning to think that it’s a lost cause and she’ll never want to speak to him again when the sash gently opens and Y/N leans out. She’s usually used to seeing Peter crouched on her windowsill, but for some reason she startles at seeing him like it’s his first time visiting.

Peter speaks softly, his voice barely louder than the wind. “I think I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.” Y/N holds up a hand. “I don’t need any explanations. You can do whatever you want, you didn’t have to come by.” Peter shakes his head. “Yes, I did. I know you had feelings for me once. I was kind of hoping that you hadn’t changed your mind about me.”

Peter ends up leaving Y/N’s room much later. He has a grin that he can’t seem to shake, and a bounce in his step that doesn’t fade for hours. He might just have managed to save himself, to convince the girl he loves that she should take a chance and stay with him. Besides, he’s kissed her enough to say a thousand words.

peter parker/marvel tag list: @namoreno, @mycosmicparadise

#peter parker #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #spiderman #spiderman imagines #spiderman x reader #spiderman oneshot #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #avengers oneshot #mcu #mcu imagines #mcu x reader #mcu oneshot

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delusion-of-negation · 3 years ago

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my five best writing tips I can give:

1) character driven: almost every moment has to be the result of character decisions. if some detached group does it then ideally try to have a character in the story who shares their views and ideology, so you can explore it personally. and those actions and decisions should be so aligned with the beliefs that nothing feels off, unless you're actively having a character do a thing based on a motivation not revealed yet. a dude blowing up the city because he's the bad man, despite it being against his ideology, will stand out as being just some forced bullshit. a wise youtube video once said if we believe that a character has inner strength then we believe in their outer strength - character first applies to their own traits, don't just say they can lift a house, show them having the internal strength and audiences will believe them when they do. same with beauty, grace, authority, and so on. this is why dudes writing about her giant boob that go wiggle wiggle don't create characters that we genuinely feel are beautiful, there's the lack of belief in the character's inner beauty as there's no three dimensional brain behind that huge bahonkadonk, that squishy watermelon. we've gotta feel these things, not be told them. don't show them 4, show them 2 x 2; pixar said that afaik, and I think it conveys the idea much better than the normal "show don't tell" phrase. eg taking a punch and getting back up matters way more to perception than dishing out hits. along with this, agency is the key to characters that feel real and aren't tropey; people have an inner world and feelings, they make choices to drive the plot, they feel things, they're people. "the bad guy" will also have good traits, and a good guy will have bad traits, traits can be bad and good depending on circumstances, when something negative can become useful, and it usually is best to play with the grey area there, to have traits that work together in a person to form a whole, and that aren't just binary or one dimensional. make their bad and good traits a part of the same comprehensible ideology and being, so that people get a full picture of them.

2) foreshadowing: your ending is a house, you take the house apart brick by brick, then play that process in reverse, and here's your story. planning things out in advance is a good idea; would you drive a car that was built by people who didn't know what an engine looked like? foreshadowing isn't dropping hints every now and then that the sky will fall, it's having a tale about weather where the raindrops are getting bigger and bigger, atlas is getting tired and his knees are bent, the stars look a little bit closer than last night - folks likely will pick up, or not. having the town be named "falling sky" in latin isn't foreshadowing, it's coincidence. stop that. seriously just fucking build up to it and have all the pieces in place - being cryptic to flex those latin lessons just looks like you're too lazy to be making actual hints in the characters' actions. don't be afraid of redundant details, not every word has to be pointing in the right direction, sometimes a misdirection is fun, sometimes a background detail makes the world more alive. but ultimately it needs to be building to that in believable ways, not as scattered cryptic clues, but as a whole piece setting the foundations. again, you're showing them 2 x 2, you're aren't having the vague shape of 4 floating on a sign. later behaviours are foreshadowed in character outlooks and lesser presentations of that same behaviour, for example. foreshadowing is when you show the building blocks effectively, it isn't when hints are just riddler style random lines.

3) arc ending is story ending: it's better to end with a couple loose threads or no happily ever after than to end six chapters too late because you were busy making sure we knew that they had eight kids a decade later and the library's books were returned and he had that pizza he always wanted and... shut up. show restraint. fit it in earlier, leave it up to the imagination, or cut it altogether. dragging on too long shifts a slice of focus away from the arcs and themes. redundant details are fine as long as you don't end up with several entire chapters of nothing but useless and uninteresting redundant bits, after a totally reasonable, natural end to what you were trying to say. pacing is important, it's especially important with the climax because it's the climax. tbqh a lot of epilogues drag on, this huge crash down from your emotions and you're being told about older him having facial hair now... yeah duh, bitch I was just fighting a dark lord, what is this whiplash to boredom? it doesn't mean epilogues are useless, but try to remember how the emotions will change and what you're trying to accomplish using those. big battles aren't necessarily arc endings, that will be where an epilogue comes in, for the arc. you built the house and made 4, so look at the completed work and then leave, don't make it seem like something else was that final image. arcane season one ended with a character arc ending and the fears re the tech being realised, they ended before the big explosion because a bang isn't what you're supposed to leave with, you leave with a mood and the completed arcs.

4) twists are dumb: no, twists aren't dumb, but twists for the sake of twists are dumb. "well mr reader, it seems you've fallen right into my trap because even though every line of dialogue up to this point becomes needlessly convoluted if we're to assume this was always the case, I am actually batman! yes yes I know they found my joker dna at the crime scene but that was a red herring!" shut up, oh my god. this is just @ star wars and doctor who to be honest. I hate this. surprise isn't the only emotion; satisfaction at spotting something, sadness for what you can tell is coming but the characters can't, a tense anticipation, and more, can all be achieved. try to focus on making a nice rug, instead of how you're going to yank it out from under people. twists aren't impossible or invaluable, but just aim to use them well, foreshadow them well as said above, and make sure anything prior isn't rendered stupid by the twist - if your character says something that'd be ridiculously illogical wording once you know the twist, change that dialogue. re-reading while knowing the twist is supposed to add a layer of depth, not detract. you want re-readers to go "fuck, this hurts way more now that I know what's coming", not "oh why did he say that? it makes no sense now?" twists should make more sense than what the original assumption was once you know them. the key to this is to maintain the verisimilitude. re-watch season one of the good place just to pay close attention to michael's reactions for a good example of how twists can be done well.

5) don't kill your darlings: it isn't a perfect rule. what the advice usually means is that when a feature (character, idea, scene, dialogue, and anything like that) is super duper dear to you, despite the niggling feeling that it's not doing much contributing, have the balls to snip that. this is a case-by-case thing; there's probably a reason it's so dear to you, so I'd advise that you introspect, figure that out, and find how to use that. you can incorporate part of it elsewhere, maybe keep it because it's an important piece of character exploration even if it doesn't make the plot go choo-choo. "kill everything that did not affect the plot" is kinda absurd, things can totally be useful for other reasons, for a break, for character, for worldbuilding, for a joke, and so on, it's all just case-by-case. but tbh I have seen some weird uses of this phrase: eg as the demand that you need a small cast, and a very intense veneration of killing off characters you like the most. again, the cast should be as big or small as it needs to be, and what deaths are necessary depends on the story. tl;dr there are going to be times that things you like have got to be removed or killed, but you like them for a reason, and you should figure out why and use that - you're the audience too, you like certain ideas because the audience probably will too. there are ways to get inventive or redundant in some degree, you don't have to have perfectly streamlined everything, explore those feelings. provided it's not the epilogue. kill that. I hate it.

bonus tip: there are no rules. suck a dick, grab some opium and an old typewriter, and let the ancient gods send their horrors through you.

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neonacity · 4 years ago

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HYACINTHE | Chapter 2: Jaemin x Reader

Summary:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

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

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

CHAPTER 1

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

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

"So you want to be a doctor?" Jaemin asked as he took a bite off the crust of his pepperoni and cheese pizza. He could have easily eaten it like any other person, but of course, he refuses to be normal and chooses to do even this his way.

I shrugged and tucked my legs under me with a sigh. We were currently sitting on an expansive field of grass overlooking a cluster of abandoned factories, the first place that Jaemin actually asked me to hangout with other than his regular visits in the cafe. It was a couple of minutes of drive away from the city—and is honestly kinda sketchy looking—but at twilight, the place transforms into a peaceful sea of green with the clear night sky watching over it.

"I'm trying to be a doctor. A surgeon, to be exact."

He turned and gazed at me quietly for a few seconds, his slice of pizza halfway into his mouth.

"Trying?"

"Yes. Getting into the medical field… It's tough. And expensive. I can take the endless studying, but the money… that can be so hard to get by sometimes."

"Why? How much is it?" He asked innocently, a small frown etched between his eyebrows. Jaemin wasn't lying when he said he doesn't know how to do friends. In fact, there's a lot of things he doesn't seem to know. Normal ones too, almost as if he lives in a bubble of his own. It has always intrigued me, how someone can be so out of touch with things, but of course I never took it against him.

"Hmm… really expensive. Usually students like me can get loans but that will have us strapped into long years of paying them off even after finishing our studies. I did get a partial scholarship though so that helps, but the day to day academic expenses are just expensive so you know…"

"Doesn't your job at the cafe cover that?"

"No way," I answered quickly with a short laugh. "Well, barely. But it isn't comfortable. If I want to get a side gig that can pay for everything, I might as well work at a strip club. Or find a sugar daddy," I answered off-handedly as I popped a french fry into my mouth.

"You don't want to go to strip clubs. They're dangerous."

I choked a little at how seriously he said that.

"Why do you sound like you know so much about them?" I grinned and teasingly wriggled my brows at him. He didn't answer, taking another bite of his pizza instead.

"Just… don't even think of doing that, okay?"

"Jaemin, do you really think I can pass off as a stripper? Relax. I know that's one job I'm underqualified for."

"Overqualified. You're too pretty to be one."

He said that so casually I didn't even know what hit me until he had moved on to another topic.

"You know if you need money, I can help."

I gave him an odd look, still reeling from that compliment he just gave.

"How?"

"I can give you money."

I blinked at him.

"In exchange for what?"

"Nothing. I can just give you money."

I stared at him like he had grown another head.

"Why?"

He looked at me like I was asking such a common sense question.

"Because you need it."

"Jaemin, you're not my sugar daddy. Is this how you always offer help to your friends? Because I am seriously so concerned for you right now."

"Well, if you want, I can also be your sugar—"

I slapped his arm before he could even finish what he was trying to say.

"Ow! That is not very sugar baby-like of you."

"I'm going to wring your neck, I swear."

He flashed me his grin and dropped himself back on the grass, his arms behind his head. It was dark, but the moon threw just enough light on the curves of his face to compliment his features. His eyes twinkled back at the stars looking down on us and I forced myself to look away after realizing how much my heart started beating harder in my chest just by staring at him.

I don't know when I started feeling this way towards him, but it is for sure not the first time I noticed where my emotions were going. It is odd… how these things happen. One day everything was going well like normal, until all of a sudden there is a skipping of a pulse after a smile, a flushing of the cheeks when he laughs. Everything is normal, until one day, it's all just free fall.

Of course, I'm not stupid enough to do anything about it though. Jaemin has been nothing but a good friend, but the fact that I still know nothing about him is a big factor, at least for me. Lately, I felt like he was trying to open up more of his world to me—case in point, these quick escapes to this field—but there are still barriers there, walls that seem too steep to be broken down.

"I wanted to be a surgeon too…"

His voice was so quiet that I barely caught it when he spoke again. I looked back at him and caught the pensive look on his face, the same one he would always have whenever he thinks nobody is looking his way—that expression of longing that seems to overwhelm him every time he retreats into his own world.

"You can still be one though… it's not too late yet," I whispered as I leaned back so that I was laying beside him. I rolled to my side to face him better, my eyes scanning his moon-washed features.

He chuckled and briefly looked at me.

"I wish it could be that easy, but it's really complicated."

"Why?"

He rolled on his side as well so that we were facing each other. The stare he gave me was so intense, it felt like he was pouring his heart out to me, except he can't do it with words. I tried my hardest to meet his gaze, my own way of telling him that he can if he wanted to... That I am his safe space.

"Didn't we agree on not asking questions?" He asked in a soft whisper.

"I never agreed to such a thing."

"But you've been trying your best."

That made me purse my lips. My gaze moved away from his momentarily as I tried to weigh my words.

"Until when can I not ask questions…?"

"Until when can I ask you to do it without you leaving me…?"

Our eyes met again. In that exact moment, I knew we were both on the same page despite the unsaid words and the secrets.

"Until I can, Jaemin."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

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

"Hi, hi! What's your specialty here?"

It took me about three seconds to register the boy currently beaming at me by the counter. I was going through some inventory so I had my back turned to the door for a little bit but I sure was expecting to hear the small bell by the entrance ding to alert me of new customers. I was about to open my mouth to answer when another boy strolled towards us, coming from the area where we have our pastries on display. There were… two of them I didn't notice?

"Yah, Chenle. They have cheese bread. Buy me some."

I softly cleared my throat and tried to plaster on my well-practiced service smile.

"Um… hi. Welcome to Brick and Beans. Would you like to have a cold or hot drink? I can recommend our best-sellers for each."

"What does Jaemin-hyung usually order?"

My smile dropped and I stared at the duo in front of me. Who are these kids?

"I'm Jisung and this is Chenle. We're Jaemin-hyung's friends."

The taller of the two answered as he seemed to have picked up my confused expression. I nodded slowly, my eyes scanning the visitors. They look just a little bit younger than Jaemin, maybe about two to three years tops, as noticeable from their more careless, youthful air.

"Did… Jaemin recommend our place?"

The pair exchanged glances before they both broke into giggles.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"What the hell are you two doing here?”

The three of us whipped our heads towards the source of the voice by the door. Standing there was Jaemin, his face tensed as he stared at the two boys in front of me. It’s obvious from the looks of his reaction that he did not, at all, recommend this place to his friends.

I was about to call out to him when the door pushed open behind him again to reveal two other boys.

“Yah… I told you to distract him, Jeno-hyung!” Chenle whined while Jisung pointed at his friend as if silently telling everyone that it was all his idea in the first place. The one I assume is called Jeno shrugged and dug his hands deeper into his pockets. He looked almost the same age as Jaemin but with a more muscular build that reminded me of some of the athletes at my uni.

“I tried. Haechan slipped. Go blame him.”

My gaze moved to the other one standing on Jaemin’s right at that moment. He is a little shorter than the other two boys crowding the door but there is something about him that seems wilder than the two. His eyes sparkled as they met mine and his lips twisted up into a slight smirk as he knocked back the lollipop he had into the other side of his mouth. He crossed the space between the entrance and the counter quickly with long quick strides and leaned his hand into Chenle’s shoulder to peer down on me.

“Ah, so that’s why this is your favorite place, Jaem. How selfish of you to keep it all to yourself~”

“Um…”

Jaemin finally moved to approach us quickly, his eyes moving between me and the three boys in front of my counter. The boy called Jeno wandered into the cafe, looking at the bags of beans and tea packs we have on display at the far side.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea they were coming,” he told me apologetically, his face strained. I couldn’t really understand why he was so worried but I gave him a smile to assure him that everything is fine.

“Hey, it’s okay. I have no customers anyway so I’m glad your friends came over.”

I have a feeling there is more to his anxiousness than I could understand.

“She’s right. We’re just here to have some coffee,” the boy, Haechan, said as he winked at me. “So what do you recommend, miss? I won’t have anything Jaemin loves to get, if it means having his death concoction.

That made me laugh a bit. Jaemin’s frown deepened.

“Well, we have really good Chia tea and some hot chocolate. Our cocoa is sourced from the Philippines so—”

“According to online reviews, their blueberry cheesecake is bomb,” said a new voice that followed the opening of the cafe door for the third time in the past ten minutes. All of us looked around to see a new visitor with black and blonde hair falling over his eyes. His thin frame was covered by a light jacket and he glanced up from his phone to talk to us as if he was right there with us from the beginning.

“Do you have it right now?”

“Uh… yes.”

“Seriously, who else did you crackheads invite?”

Jaemin turned to Haechan and the rest of the guys with an expression I couldn’t quite paint.

His answer came with the cafe door dinging open again.

“Yo, man. Am I late?”

Jaemin gave one look at the boy with blue hair, groaned, and cursed silently to himself.

-----------

“Go back there and hangout with your friends,” I nudged Jaemin slightly by the shoulders as he continued to fume silently beside me. I was finishing the orders of the group and he seemed to still be adamant in keeping his distance from them for as long as he can.

“I don’t hangout with assholes.”

I chuckled. He looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Hey, language. Why are you so pressed, anyway? They just came by to visit. I’m glad I have customers.”

For a moment, I thought he was not going to give me any answers again. Jaemin simply stared at me, his arms crossed over his chest for a few full heartbeats.

“I don’t think I should get you any deeper into my life as it is,” he finally said quietly, voice just loud enough for me to hear over the humming of the espresso machine. I looked up at him, surprised by his words and the fact that he actually replied to my question.

“I suppose I cannot ask what that means…?”

He gave me a small tight smile. Just then, the microwave beeped to tell me that the food I was heating was ready. We both looked at it and Jaemin took the chance to push himself off the counter he was leaning on to grab a tray.

“I’ll take care of it. We’re making your job harder today, at least let me help serve those dorks.”

I nodded and wordlessly let him put some of the drinks on his tray. I did the finishing touches on the blueberry cheesecake the guy called Renjun ordered before loading it on mine.

When we both walked to the table that the rest of his friends chose, the boys had already busted the jenga game that we usually offer to our customers. Jisung, Chenle, and Haechan were in the middle of sabotaging each other with their pulls while Renjun and Mark—the last newcomer—were peering over Jeno’s shoulder who I assume was playing a game on his phone.

“Here are your orders. I added extra powdered sugar on your chiffon cake, Jisung,” I said with a smile as I arranged everything on their table. The youngest boy looked up at me with sparkling eyes as if I’ve given him the world. The others took their orders after giving their own variations of thank you.

“Thank you, noona,” Jisung said before turning to Haechan to “whisper” in his ear.

“I like her.”

“She can hear you as clear as day, Jisungie.”

“Well, if you need anything, just call out to me alright?” I said with a polite smile, already feeling a little bit more relaxed around the group. I’m sure Jaemin has his own reasons to feel anxious about his friends being here, but they all seem like your regular boys to me. I’ve always wondered what kinds of acquaintances he has and I’m glad to know these are the ones he has around.

“Wait, can’t you hang out for a while?” Haechan asked as I took the trays with me. Jaemin was quick to answer, throwing dagger glances at the other.

“She has work.”

“There are no customers.”

“You can go back if someone comes. You’re only serving us right now, anyway,” Renjun quipped as he took a bite of his cake. My eyes moved to Jaemin just in time to see his jaw tighten a little bit. He did look a little bit resigned though so I decided to compromise.

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes. I haven’t had my break yet,” I said with a slight smile. Mark patted Jeno’s thigh to give way for me to sit on the space where he had his leg up.

“So, are you and Jaemin-hyung dating? For how long now?” My ass haven’t even touched the seat yet when Chenle shot the question. I looked at him, completely taken aback.

“Chenle, you don’t just ask people that out of the blue,” Mark said, despite the small playful smirk that he tried so hard to hide. He turned to me apologetically then, “I’m sorry, he doesn’t go out often.”

I was too taken aback that I failed to notice how Jaemin didn’t even try to deny Chenle’s assumption. I glossed over it and chose to take another route instead.

“Do you guys all live together?” I asked with genuine interest. Jaemin did say that he doesn’t get a lot of chance to socialize but it seems like it applies to all his friends, too.

“We all live in the...same apartment, yes,” Jeno said carefully.

“Oh… roommates.”

“We grew up together, actually,” Renjun pointed at Jisung who had his upper lip covered with powdered sugar as he shoveled cake into his mouth. “Jaemin birthed him.”

“That’s right,” Jaemin said so seriously with a straight face beside me.

“So you’re also childhood friends.”

“I guess you could say that. Chenle and I both came from China but we grew up here.”

I nodded, already invested in knowing more.

“Are you studying? Or are you always here?” Haechan asked me as he deftly removed a block from the Jenga tower he had reassembled.

“Mm, yes. I’m on pre-med right now.”

Jeno gave a low whistle and lowered his phone a bit to look at me.

“You’re going to be a doctor?”

I smiled. “Hopefully a surgeon, yes.”

“So does that mean you’ll be stitching up wounds and getting bullets off flesh and things like that?” Chenle asked. I laughed at how specific the situations he gave were.

“I can actually do them right now, but yes. My father used to be a doctor too and I helped him around his clinic before he died so I know the basics.”

“I didn’t know about that…” Jaemin spoke up beside me in a quiet voice, breaking his silence.

“About what?”

“About your parents.”

I laughed. “You never asked.”

“So are you living alone?” Mark followed through.

“Right now, yes. I lost my parents a couple of years ago but I do have an auntie living right in the next city.”

“Man, so you’re working and studying at the same time. You’re tough.”

“Thank you, but it’s not really anything new to college students like me. How about you guys? Are you in college?”

The boys exchanged quick looks with each other.

“We’re all, uh, home schooled,” Renjun finally answered.

“Oh… I see. That makes a lot of sense.” Just then, my eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. I started slightly after realizing that my fifteen minutes of break is up.

“I have to go though, sorry. I’m alone right now so I have to work on multiple things,” I said apologetically as I picked myself up from my seat. I gave everyone a quick smile before retreating behind the counter.

I didn’t look back to see how Jaemin stared at me as I left and how he finally caught Mark who was staring at him in return.

The two boys didn’t have to speak to understand each other, but the younger one easily got what his captain clearly told him with his gentle gaze.

Be careful.

----

Chapter 3

132 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

life is not a shoujo manga

— Kaibara believes that his life with you could be a shoujo manga. Why? One, he’s in love with you and two, you work at a maid cafe he is prohibited from visiting. But nothing happens in life without doing what you’re told NEVER to do.

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pairing: kaibara sen x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, modern!au, reader is a sex worker, maid cafe but make it kinky, dubcon (spoiler: reader just services kaibara despite his embarrassment), semipublic sex, master and maid dynamic/kink, blow job, sex on a table, marking

word count: 4,570

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab for sex work lmaoooo, this was hella inspired by maid-sama,,, kinda sorta, not really, but hey!!!! check out the rest of the masterlist and I hope you enjoy this!!! happy birthday to me :D

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Kaibara Sen was pretty confident in the fact that he was not in a shoujo manga.

There are, however, some claims that he can unashamedly admit make him believe that he might be in one. Here is his gathered evidence:

1. He had a crush on a girl (you) that was practically written to be nothing more than a crazy, hopeful fantasy.

Explanation:

Kaibara has known you for his entire life, but you, the airheaded, mind focused on only those around you, had never noticed him. You were bright, intelligent, witty, with blazing eyes and a curling smile, you were an enigma in the world, and he was a bystander just waiting for a day when you would notice him. Popular as you were, Kaibara knew he stood no chance at ever playing a role in your life. There was no room for his initial stoic personality, the way that he walks away from you as you near because, god forbid, you see his ears tinge pink.

All in all, you never knew he existed, and his crush would have to remain one-sided and unknown. But you see, reason number two is yet a testament to his denied belief that he lives a shoujo manga.

2. He had gained your attention one day by catching you one day when you tripped off a brick wall.

Explanation:

Talk about falling into the arms of the one you’re destined for! Kaibara had been walking home from the end of his first year of high school, and as he turned a corner, there came a yell and he looked up to see a body plummeting towards him. With adrenaline coursing through his veins and superhuman strength supplying him the strength and ability to catch you, Kaibara caught you bridal style. He held you there for a few moments, the air suddenly blowing and the blossoming cherry blossoms swirling with the winds. He swore your eyes brightened at the moment you locked eyes.

3. He had a (former) love rival.

Explanation:

Pretty self-explanatory, Kaibara would admit. Before his introduction to you, another male student in your class had been essentially building up his intentions to ask you out. Kaibara wasn’t one to step on people’s toes; he respected people too much and often just didn’t want to spend energy where he thought was unnecessary. But you were never unnecessary. Kaibara wanted you and found himself clashing heads with this other love rival, but he seemed to have won the moment Kaibara was accepted into the same university as you.

4. You were working at a maid cafe.

Explanation:

Kaibara did not have an older sister for no reason. Maid-Sama and Ouran Highschool Host Club were constantly on repeat when he was growing up! Because of this selected memory and application, he believed that time and time again, whenever maids were involved — or any type of service job — it was shoujo material.

Four points and that was four more points than most romances, and Kaibara was convinced that he was in line to become the main star of a real-life adaption of some obscure shoujo manga. All he had to do now was seal the deal and get you, his now best friend of nearly four years, to fall in love with him.

“I have work tonight,” you sigh from your place on Kaibara’s bed, your face twisted in a dissatisfied pout, feet kicking a bit on the mattress.

“Call out,” Kaibara simply replied, his head resting upon yours as you both watched an old All Might film. “I don’t understand why the maid cafe is open so late anyways. Who’s even awake and wanting to go out?”

You chuckle at his words, fingers tapping on your thigh — as they do when you’re a bit nervous.

“It’s a cafe for foreigners and people who are up late,” you repeat the same line you always say when Kaibara asks why you would go in so late. “It works out, and it pays well.”

“How long is your shift tonight?”

“Ten until three.”

Kaibara groans, “that’s rough.”

You snicker a bit in unknown irony, “you have no idea.”

Time passes, and Kaibara realizes that it’s nearly nine-thirty by the time you pull away from the small mirror on Kaibara’s desk (he bought it so that you could do your makeup in his room), and he looks at you in your beautiful form. You looked ethereal in the makeup, big eyes, and painted pretty lips. You turned to look at him, a grand grin painting your lips, and for whatever reason, a spoof of unspoken for confidence, Kaibara feels himself speaking before he can stop himself.

“Go on a date with me? Next weekend?”

You froze, before chuckling, lips splayed in a lazy grin, “you’d want to date a maid?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Kaibara watched as you flustered a bit, teeth tugging and tearing into your lower lip as you shook your head. “You’re a dork, Sen,” you push back a strand of hair as you stand up, “but let me think about it? As much as I love the idea of potentially being your girlfriend, I need to think about how you would feel about my job.”

And Kaibara smiled despite himself, his mind thinking about how sometimes shoujo protagonists often deny their own feelings at first. Not that his life was a shoujo manga anyways.

“I can do that.”

You laugh, the sound pretty and light on his ears, and you shake your head. Kaibara warmed at the sound and stood up too, already knowing that it was time for you to leave.

“Alright, but I must leave you now, my eternal love,” you grin, speaking with a mock accent. Your arms open for your goodbye hug he has since been accustomed to giving you when you both went separate ways. “I bid thee well when I’m away for the week.”

Ah yes, you would be gone for an entire week on account of a school trip you were taking.

“I do not know how I may live without you at my side, but I will try,” Kaibara spoke back with a low accent, too, his smile hidden in your neck as he hugged you near. “Have a good shift, and be safe on your trip.”

“Obviously!”

Two things about your job besides the obvious (that it was a maid cafe) that Kaibara knew.

1. You made a lot of money there.

He wasn’t all too sure as to why. He’s been to a maid cafe before and has definitely been called Kaibara-sama by pretty-faced females in French maid costumes. He knew that it was a popular place for otaku men and foreigners, but he also knew that pay range-wise, it wasn’t that much better than a typical waitress job.

2. Under no circumstances should he, or anyone for that matter, follow you to work or try to see you while you worked.

This made sense to Kaibara even if he didn’t particularly agree. There was no denying that he wanted to see you in a maid costume, he’d be a liar if he said otherwise, but he realized how embarrassing it could be for you. The fact that he knew where you worked was good enough for him.

Kaibara sighed, his body collapsing onto his bed, and he pulled out his phone. He checked the time on his phone and smiled, seeing that at this point, you were already at work because you sent a text saying that you had arrived. A small notification warning him that his phone was about to die pinged on his screen, and he frowned, hand reaching for his charger.

But instead of the white cord, his hand grasped onto the rose gold charging cable he knew was yours. You needed the charging cable; you were leaving on a trip basically right after work! Kaibara’s mouth twisted, weighing his options in his head. He knew that you had no other charging cables; you had a knack for breaking them without meaning to.

Shaking his head, he stood up.

This was about your charger for your phone.

It would be okay! He would simply step foot into the maid cafe, hand your coworker (he was hopeful he would see you) your charger, and leave! He wouldn’t stay! Nope! Not at all.

Kaibara nodded at his resolution and pocketed your charger before turning on his heel and marching out of his room.

It took a bit to get to the cafe.

Fushi’s Maid Cafe is what it was called.

Its hours of operation were quite weird, at the very least in Kaibara’s opinion. On its website, it said that it was open between 11 am and 5 pm, a reasonable range for its demographic; however, there were many times in which you would go in much later in the night. You were in a 10 pm until 3 am shift after all.

It was currently midnight as the trains were down for the night, and Kaibara had resolved to walk a near hour to drop off your charger. He didn’t really mind, especially if he sees you in that costume.

‘No!’ Kaibara thought, ‘you’re in a shoujo manga, not a hentai!’

He frowned, remembering to continue to claim that he was not living in a shoujo manga, and strode to the door. Confidence in every step, his game plan being repeated time and time again.

Kaibara swung open the door, readying himself to hear the onslaught of a chorus of ‘Welcome home, Master!’ but instead… oh…

He froze.

“F-Fukuda-samaaaaa!”

He blinked.

And as the door closed behind him, the most fucked out, blissful voice that he had only heard in his wettest of dreams called out, “Welcome home, Kaibara-sama…”

Kaibara locked eyes with you sitting alone at a table, your eyes laced with blissful lust, lips pouty and wet. The maid costume you had on exposed your beautiful breasts, shoving the curves, the tender flesh, and your sweat shined softly off it. Kaibara felt his breathing become shallower yet deeper as the sounds of meeting wet sex, lewd cries, the maids begging for more, demanding more. The clients — the masters — speaking in tongues as they fucked the women against the chairs, tabletops, anything in which they could balance.

Oh.

It made sense why you never wanted anyone to follow you to work.

Kaibara had been so caught up in the scene before him, the somehow sex maid cafe themed orgy (sexy party? But there was no group sex minus the man in the back fucking three maids!) that he hadn’t noticed you approach him. He tensed yet again when your hands fisted into his shirt, your warm breath brushing against his exposed collarbones, a curling sweetness emitting from your person and knocking his breath away yet again.

“Kaibara-sama, I never expected you to finally come. I’ve missed you,” you whine, pressing your body so close to his. Your stocking-covered thighs were brushing against his slowly awakening dick.

“Y-Y/n,” Kaibara stuttered, and he winced at how not part of the plan that was. “I-I thought this was a maid cafe?”

“We are a maid cafe,” you sigh as if he was asking an amusing yet dumb question. Your arms wrapping around his neck, and hips rolling against his. “We service our masters however they see fit! I wanna help Kaibara-sama feel good now that he’s here.”

Kaibara hisses under his breath, the feeling of your thigh rubbing against his growing dick insatiable as it is slightly uncomfortable due to the rough fabric of his jeans. “I’m here to drop off your charger! You forgot it! I-I’m leaving after this.”

You grin, your laughter bell-like in his ear as you nuzzle your nose against the smooth curve of his neck. “I left it there on purpose; I wanted Kaibara-sama to follow me here and see if he could still love me like this.” Goosebumps flash across his body, and Kaibara whines at the back of his throat as you begin walking backward, taking him to the table where you once sat. “I never wanted Kaibara-sama to see me like this, never wanted Kaibara-sama to see and know what a big whore I am before he confessed his feelings to me. But Kaibara-sama followed me to my work and didn’t run away… I’m so blessed.”

Your hands landed on his chest, and Kaibara yelped as you shoved him onto the spacious, comfortable chair before the table. Your teeth bit into your lower lip, eyes practically glowing with lust as a single sleeve began descending from your shoulder.

Kaibara suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“I’m at your service, Kaibara-sama,” you whisper, eyelashes fluttering. “How may I help you?”

Kaibara was going to respond eloquently and affirmatively that he didn’t need you to service him, but the Kaibara-sama sounded so lovely.

“I— um, well— I— ohmygoD!”

Kaibara nearly leaped out of his own skin as you pushed his knees apart and kneeled before him. Your eyes locked on his before glancing down to the prominent bulge in his pants. You grin, fingers stretching out and eagerly unbuttoning his jeans and pulling out his hard cock in less than ten seconds.

“Wowwww,” you breathe, eyes lighting up at the still hardening dick you were holding in your hands. “Kaibara-sama… you’re so big!”

You stared at the easily nine-inch dick in your hands, the slight curve to it making your core burn, and the bluish veins dancing under the skin making your mouth water. He was better than what you had expected him to be, and you wanted to know how he tasted, how he felt in your mouth and your pussy.

His erratic breathing caught your attention, and you looked back up at him, the scarlet on his cheeks, the expression that told you that he was battling instinct and morals. It was up to you, his maid, to make the decision for him, it seemed.

“I’ll take good care of you, Kaibara-sama,” you promised, heart hammering in your chest as you leaned forward, and without much of an issue, swallowed at least half of his cock.

Kaibara’s reaction is instantaneous; the near howl of pleasure and surprise ripping from his throat is a sound you’re almost unfamiliar with. He was such a serious man; even when he was comfortable and energetic, there was a sense of seriousness to him. There was a time, however, that you remember him being near-feral, demanding, excited. It was when there was a competition or when his feelings truly and utterly overcame him. You smiled around his cock, your teeth barely scraping the length of his cock, and giggled.

You overwhelmed him.

But there was no time for celebrations, no time to think about how you were serving your master to the best you could; his hands were suddenly fisted into your hair, and his hips rolled up into you, fucking your throat. Tears sprung in your eyes, the uncomfortable sensation of his cock flushes down your throat, pressing so heavy on your tongue.

“F-Fuck, this feels so fucking good!” Kaibara gasps, his eyebrows scrunching and hips lifting off the seat to continue face fucking you.

You relax your throat as best you can, chokes and gags pittering out of your mouth despite your best attempts. You hum, forcing your throat to allow the tip of his cock to go even further down your throat. Kaibara moans loudly, the noises he makes dripping down your back, making you feel sweaty, hot, and flush. His noises stir the heat between your thighs, making one of your hands go down beneath the layers of your puffy skirt to press to your throbbing clit, desperate to relieve the building, untouched tension.

“No!” Kaibara hisses, a single hand leaving your head to grab onto your wandering hand and bringing it back up. You yelp around his cock at the sudden movement, and you’re forced to come off his cock with haggling, rough coughs. Tears fall down your cheeks, and there's a thick line of saliva and precum trailing between the tip of his cock and the bottom of your lip. “You’re my maid, right?”

You cough, your lungs are burning with wrongly swallowed saliva, and the recent asphyxiation you had. Cocking your head to the side, you startle when he suddenly leans in near, pinching your cheeks between two fingers and drawing you near him.

“Answer me, y/l/n-chan.”

“Y-Yes!” you squeak, swollen lips trembling and your breathing hitching as you shiver. There was a fire in his eyes, a type of lust-fueled rage that made your skin tingle and crawl in the sweetest of ways. “I’m here to service Kaibara-sama.”

“Then why are you trying to relieve yourself?” he snaps, face so near you want to kiss him, and you whimper because his scolding and humiliation do nothing to ease the fire in your cunt… it only ravages it, letting it fester into a raging wildfire. “You’re here for me, your master, so fuck me — focus on just me.”

“Yes, Kaibara-sama!” you shiver, body tingling as you reclaim his cock in your mouth.

And unlike before, where Kaibara merely sounded like a man who was feasting upon the food of the gods, he sits up straighter, more commanding, a man who sat in his chair knowing his worth. He took on the deception of a master.

“Hold my dick with your hands,” Kaibara grunts, hands fisting the hair at the nape of your neck and forcing your head to tilt up towards him. “I can’t trust you.”

You nodded your head, hands coming up to hold onto the base of his cock that your mouth couldn’t take in. You were fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks doing all it could to please your master. You sucked his dick with the intention of promising him that you were worth it, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you wanted to consume.

“Such a good sluttly little maid,” Kaibara praised and degraded. His hands tighten almost painfully in your hair. “Taking my big cock so easily... Don’t tell me you’ve been practicing on other men.”

You make a noise that screams no.

You would never!

“Oh, no?” Kaibara grunts, his tongue licking out past his lips, and you shudder under his gaze. “Did my slutty fucking maid keep her mouth clean for me?”

You whine in approval, your lungs burning as he keeps you still on his cock, eyes deceivingly angry.

“Good… that just means I’ll have to fuck your whore pussy so good you’ll never ask or seek a new master,” Kaibara grinned, and your eyes widened.

It happened so fast, you were on the ground one second, and in the next, he had you pinned with your back against the table. It was almost uncomfortable, the edge of the table pressing into your spine, and your hands scrambled to latch onto his shirt as his jeans fell to his knees and his hands gripped the top of your maid outfit down, exposing your naked breasts.

His hands found a place on your breasts, warm and calloused fingers moving against smooth, soft skin. You moaned loudly, hips twitching unconsciously as he brushed against the swell of your nipple.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Kaibara groaned, fingers pinching roughly against your skin, and you warbled a scream. It wasn’t painful; it was pleasurable. Your head swam in a way it never had before when you had serviced other men, your clit was throbbing with an increase of needed attention, and your voice keened with his praise. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you — wanted this. I wanna make you feel so good, let your master fuck you however I want, y/l/n, I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

You nod your head, words failing you, and you watched Kaibara let out a heavy stream of air out of his nose, a near perverted, happy grin on his face.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, Kaibara-sama,” you whisper, hands fisting into his shirt. “Ruin me. Claim me. Make me yours.”

His eyes flash dangerously.

“You were never not mine.”

And with a hand looping underneath your knee and with the sudden shove on your shoulder to knock you back, Kaibara pressed his cock against your wet, sopping entrance and shoved into you. You scream loudly, hands digging into his back as his cock enters you, unforgiving and demanding. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his hips as you shudder and shake, body twitching under the dull, hot stretch of him in you, your body sweating with the consuming heat and pleasure that his entrance gives you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you squeal, fingernails digging into his skin, face burying into his neck. “Kaibara-sama is so big, he’s stretching me out so much, I’m— I can’t—”

Kaibara clicks his tongue, his nose nuzzling into your cheek, “Don’t say that, y/l/n-chan. Don’t ever tell your master that you can’t. You can do anything so long as I ask of it, right? I don’t like the word can’t.”

You whimper, head nodding in understanding as you shift your hips partly for needed friction, partly for relief.

“Stop that,” Kaibara orders, hands suddenly on your hips, preventing you from moving. “Ask permission from your master if you can move. You are here to serve me; you are not here for yourself. Do you understand?”

Your breathing is heavy, your legs shaking as you nod, breathlessly saying that you agree even though you need relief. You need to please your master; you have to make sure he continues to want your service: just you, no one else.

“Good girl,” he praises and somehow pushes even further into you.

You moan loudly at the movement, fingers digging into his skin yet again, and Kaibara laughed, teeth nipping at your collarbone. Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single happy noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.

“So tight, so hot,” Kaibara groans, his teeth dragging up and down your neck as his hips roll back and thrust back into you at his own pace. It’s steady, slow almost—a steady beat like a subtle heartbeat that kept you sane. “Don’t be quiet… I want to hear what I do to you; I want everyone to hear what I do to you.”

And a hand pinches your clit at the same time he slams roughly, with tremendous strength into you, and you wail.

It’s as if that wail was a starting sound, the sound that told Kaibara that he was in the clear to do whatever he wanted. To fuck you as he deemed, to make you fulfill your duty to providing and exceeding his every need and demand. He fucked into you, each snap of his hip, every roll, sending loud slaps through the room. The table creaked and shifted with every advancing move, and you rolled your hips up, fucking back into him, desperate to make his breath hitch and hiss in pleasure. His teeth buried into your skin, sucking and nibbling marks onto your skin, subtle and near bloody marks to show the world that you were his.

“Kaibara-sama!” you scream at a particular thrust, back arching wildly, eyes slamming shut as you moan to the heavens. “Kiss me please! Please kiss me—”

Kaibara’s mouth was over yours immediately. You cried into his mouth, shuddering and shaking as he continued his maddening dance with you, the endless, exciting cycle of tingling sensations and exploding warmth. His tongue entered your mouth, tasting of him, iron, and sweat. You moan louder, your velvet walls clenching and milking against his length. You don’t want to ever pull out; you want him, his seed, everything.

He kisses you like a madman, someone who believed that if he stopped, he would die.

You eat it up, returning it in full, unable to even believe you want him to stop.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Kaibara pants, hands coming back down to your hips and keeping them in place as he suddenly, powerfully, and somehow rhythmically pounding into you in short, strong fucks.

It’s overwhelming, the feeling of his girth stretching you out and abandoning you so quickly, the way his tip licks against your cervix, teasing up against your sweet spot. His face is desperate, needing, and so powerful that you cry to him, your master, your god. Your pussy is soaked with your essence, the sex spilling it all-around your thighs and on him, the wet squelching pounding making you embarrassed and so much more turned on. His teeth sink into your jaw, and your body is begging, twitching, the heat in your stomach overwhelming and no longer building but waiting for it to be unleashed.

“K-Kaibara-sama!” you cry, a warning for the near-inevitable.

But you wail his name, the electricity in your veins and blood scorching the levels of your skin, and Kaibara takes that as a reason to do more, to fuck more. He drills into you at a new speed, a new power. Your head is swimming in the delirium, and your body trembles, the words “more, faster, harder” spilling from your mouth without consent, but tears build in your eyes as his fingers seem to almost spin against your clit and you scream.

You cum loudly, aggressively, all your energy destroyed as you hit the high. Kaibara moans against your bruised and marked skin; the warmth heat of spilling seed expelling into your cunt is a sensation that drives you insane as he collapses his weight on top of you. You’re breathless, speechless, a part of you unable to comprehend that your crush had fucked you before he had kissed you, that he was the best fuck you had, and how this man wanted you back.

It’s quiet for a bit, the two of you laying on the table as cum dripped out of your cunt, and he rested his head between your exposed breasts.

“So,” you finally rasp, a soft grin coming onto your face. “You have my charger?”

“18000 yen?!” Kaibara barked, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the older lady at the counter who was billing him for his session.

“We are a sex club, Kaibara-sama,” she sighed. “Not only did you have a three-hour session with our most requested maid, but you also marked the merchandise.”

“I couldn’t?!” Kaibara snapped but cooled down almost immediately when the lady pointed at a: ‘Fines for every mark on the maids!!!!’ sign. “Oh.”

“Take it from my paycheck,” you sing from beside him, bundled up in a coat, the marks he gave you completely hidden now. It was the end of your shift and closing time, after all. “I got him riled up without telling him the rules.”

Kaibara chuckled as you arranged a proper check for him.

He thought about what he thought of his life, and while he couldn’t say that his life wasn’t a hentai right now, he knew, without a doubt, that life is not a shoujo manga.

#kaibara x reader #kaibara smut #bnha x reader #bnha #mha

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pillage-and-lute · 3 years ago

Text

Frozen Dawn

Snippet of life at Kaer Morhen +Eskel being a good brother TW: Mentions of the trials

Geralt sat, overlooking the snowy ground that cloaked Kaer Morhen. His feet dangled, one heel bumping back against the frozen battlements. That simple, rythmic movement was the only sign that the white-haired witcher hadn’t simply fallen asleep in an odd place.

Considering midnight had come and gone, he was probably out here because he couldn’t sleep.

Eskel sat beside his brother, feelin the chill of the stones seep through his warm trousers to the skin of his thighs. Geralt couldn’t have not noticed his presence, but his eyes were trained dead ahead, pupils large in the night. Eskel stared out towards the horizon, where Geralt’s eyes were trained.

It wasn’t a meditative state, but he let his breathing settle. His brother could sometimes have trouble with words, so he waited for them to come. If it took all night, it would.

“Hello,” Geralt said after a long while. His breath puffed in the cold.

“Hello. You’re up late.”

“So late that it’s early,” Geralt said.

Eskel nodded.

“I am worried,” Geralt said at last.

“I figured, is it about Ciri?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“I am not going to be a good father,” Geralt said, his heel still beating a steady time against the stone.

“You’ll be a better father than we ever had.”

“She deserves more.”

“Ciri has more,” Eskel said. He studied his brother’s face. Sometimes touch was welcome, sometimes not. He figured now was okay, and settled one large arm over Geralt’s shoulder.

Despite taking twice the Trials, Geralt was slender for a witcher. Not so much as a Cat witcher, maybe, but svelte for a wolf, and lean. He’d always been so. Eskel, in comparison, was broader than average. Built like a brick shithouse, according to Lambert, and ‘of epic proportions, according to Geralt’s funny little poet friend.

“I can’t promise that you’ll be a perfect father,” Eskel said. “I don’t think any witcher could be, but you’ll be as close as you can get. And Ciri doesn’t only have you. I’m here, I’ll be her Uncle Eskel, all of us, we’ll build a whole family here, brother.”

“But we can’t, we’re not a family.”

Eskel huffed and knocked his knuckle against his brother’s pale brow. “If you’re going to tell me that I’m not your brother, you can save your breath.”

Geralt shrugged, eyes still staring ahead.

Eskel wondered what he was remembering, but he suspected he knew. After the second round of Trials, it was him who’d dragged Geralt back to his bed and cleaned the vomit and tears from him. He’d watched Geralt sleep fitfully as his own newly-sensitized ears listened to the flaming row some of the older witchers were having with the mages. Vesemir had been chief among them, and Eskel remembered wondering if Vesemir would kill one of the mages.

He remembered considering helping him do so, or at least to hide the body.

“We didn’t have the best childhood,” Geralt said. Yes, he’d been thinking along the same lines.

“The cycle is broken,” Eskel said, simply. “No more shitty childhoods.”

“No more witchers,” Geralt said, quietly.

Eskel just nodded.

“I’m not sure,” said the white wolf. “If that makes me sad or happy.”

“It can be both,” Eskel said.

The sun came up, watery through the snow, the brother’s still sitting there.

“Dad,” came a small voice. “Grandpa Vesemir says it’s breakfast time, and Uncle Lambert says he’ll eat all the bacon if you’re not there soon.”

Eskel smiled as Geralt turned removed himself from his vigil and walked with his daughter down to breakfast.

“Uncle Eskel? Are you coming?”

Eskel hurried to catch up. Lambert’s threat wasn’t an empty one. He nodded to himself as he saw Geralt rest a heavy, gentle hand on Ciri’s shoulder as they walked.

And the sun came up.

#the witcher #Eskel #Geralt #Eskel's POV #Geralt is a good dad #and Eskel is an excellent uncle

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eirikaanemo · 4 years ago

Text

The Candy House

Venti x GN!Reader

3k Words

Warnings: eviction, manipulation, servitude, minor character 'death', temporary blindness, kiss at the end

Notes: This is NOT incest. You and Venti are strangers and are not related at all.

Getting lost in the enchanted forest was easy. The fog covering the ground, the trees blocking out the light, and the original path taking so many twists and turns made sure of that. From the chill sinking into your bones you can tell that it’s getting late. Fear settles into your heart. Who knows what lurks in these woods? All you know is that of all those who have entered these woods, no one has ever come back out.

The rumors all tell of monsters and creatures roaming in the night, devouring any unfortunate creature they may find. You can only hope that they are wrong. Perhaps if you find some sort of shelter you can be hidden and make it through the night. Unfortunately you have not been able to find any sort of shelter, anything would do at this point. And yet it’s nowhere to be found and all that’s left to do is keep searching.

Then you see a light in the distance, illuminating the silhouette of a house. Speeding up, you change course to move towards it. The closer you get, the more details you are able to make out through the fog and the dark. And the closer you are, the odder it looks. It doesn’t seem to be made of brick or wood, or any other sort of building material you have seen.

As you get even closer you find that it’s kind of made of bricks, if giant chocolate covered raisins count as bricks and dried icing counts as mortar. The windows tint the light different colors as the light passes through the semi-transparent hard candy. The front door is made of chocolate and has a gumdrop handle. The roof is made of wafer shingles held together by layers of caramel. It looks delicious.

When you approach the door it opens to reveal an old woman. Her eyes are white and unseeing but hold an unsettling glint, though her smile assures you that you are welcome. “Oh you poor dear,” she says mournfully. “Out lost in the woods at night! You must be cold. Come in, come in and stay the night. Dinner is ready and I would love to have some company. Please do come and join me!”

The thought of food makes your stomach rumble. You haven’t eaten anything all day. This is like a dream come true, too wonderful to be real, and yet it is. “I would be happy to,” you tell her and follow her inside. Just like the outside of the house, everything is made of candy. Everything but dinner, that is, thankfully. The food is absolutely delicious and you enjoy every bite.

After you help clean up the dishes she leads you to the next room over. It’s small with meager furnishings which include a comfortable looking cot. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not much,” she apologizes. “Being out here in the woods means I so rarely get visitors.”

“It’s fine,” you reassure her. “This is much better than trying to find shelter out in the woods.” She nods her head emphatically. “Oh heavens yes,” she agrees. “You wouldn’t even survive a night out there! The locals aren’t fond of strangers wandering around their forest.” The thought causes a shiver to run down your spine as she wishes you goodnight and leaves you to your thoughts.

Sleep comes easily that night but the morning is much too early. You’re shaken awake by the old lady, more harshly than you would expect from what she was like the night before. When you open your eyes, sit up, and turn to look at her she even looks different from yesterday. Gone are the sweet, soft features of an old lady and instead are the haggard, worn, and wicked features of a dark witch.

“By partaking of my food and generosity, you have sold yourself into my service.” The witch informed you. “Now get out of bed, you have chores to do and have slept in far too late.” Your eyes go wide as you remember the basic rules you’ve always been taught for dealing with the magical. Do not eat. Do not sleep. Do not accept favors. Three of many, and you had broken them. She is right, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

For breakfast you are fed bread crusts and water. Then you start on your chores. Most of them are normal things: sweep the house, do the dishes, and dust dusty surfaces for example. Oddly enough, she prepares meals despite it being one of the more risky tds for her. Then again she does have a lot of experience so there might not be as much risk as you might originally think. And apparently she doesn’t usually eat either.

There are also a couple odd chores. The most odd one being: feed and fatten up ‘[her] next meal’. When you ask her how to complete that task she mutters about how she knew she was forgetting something and releases a spell hiding a large hanging birdcage in the corner of the room. A birdcage with someone in it. There is a pile of bones beneath the cage. Human bones. You’re sick to your stomach.

At some point the witch must have left, leaving just you and them in the room. As if sensing that she’d left, the figure cracks an eye open, sits up, and stretches, then sends you a bitter smile. “I guess we’re both stuck here,” they say. A he, you judge by the sound of his voice. “Yeah,” you mutter, equally bitterly. “Tricked me with dinner and a place to stay when I really should have known better. And I didn’t even realize how badly I messed up until this morning.”

He sighs. “I tried to warn you, but she put up a spell to hide me before she went to bring you in.” He sounds so defeated. You shrug. “Thank you for trying. Don’t blame yourself though. This really is my own fault. How did she catch you?”

“Much the same as you,” he admitted. “I was searching for a treasure I had lost and found out she had it, which was true. So I came to try and get it from her but she tricked me into eating and trapped me here. Now she’s just waiting until I’m fat enough to eat it appears. I guess we’re stuck here together for now. And after she eats me, you’re probably next if allowed.”

The two of you are silent for a minute as you ponder your imminent demise and his rhymes. “Well I feel kind of bad now that I know, but I’m supposed to give you this. It’s one of my chores so I have to do it.” You hand him his breakfast through the bars of his cage. It’s a much better breakfast than your own but he wrinkles his nose at it before giving in and eating it.

As he eats you continue with your chores. Most of them are in the same area he is so you’re easily able to take care of his breakfast dishes. The two of you end up chatting while you work. He introduces himself as Venti the bard and tells you stories about his travels all over Teyvat, often times in rhymes. When he isn’t telling stories he’s singing you songs while you work to distract you from the numerous aches and pains that you’ve developed from all the work you have been doing. In return, you tell him about how you ended up in the enchanted forest in the first place.

You explain how the village has become convinced that you were a witch, even your own family. They had cast you out and now you have nowhere else to go. It was hard to talk about but oddly enough you felt better after telling Venti about it. He didn’t judge you or pity you for it, there was just a serene sort of sympathy that helped you feel heard and validated. And since you don’t really talk to strangers about that sort of thing, the two of you decide that you are friends.

A couple days pass and you notice that the witch has been testing how fat he is by feeling his finger. And the fatter he is, the more he has eaten, the closer he is to being eaten himself. Every meal has to be finished, she knows otherwise and the consequences aren’t pretty. So far he certainly isn’t fat, but both of you know it’s only a matter of time.

Then you come up with a brilliant idea. “What if,” you whisper to him after she leaves the room after checking, “you have her check that bone instead of your finger when she next checks? Her eyesight is bad enough that she probably can’t see the difference and it will buy us time while we try to come up with an idea to escape.”

“That might just work!” He declares. “And that would be just the thing to wipe off her smirk. It should buy us the time as long as she doesn’t give it too much mind. Here’s hoping it works, because the alternative will be much worse.” You slowly nod your head, “At least it’s a start.” He smiles at replies, “And it’s truly is quite smart.”

You blush at the compliment and feel your heart flutter in your chest. As time has gone by you have found yourself falling for him. It’s not any one specific thing, but a combination of many things that make him who he is: his jokes, kindness, thoughtfulness, and trying to make the best of your situation, to name a few. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s so cute.

Thankfully, the trick does work to your delight and her frustration. She started making his meals larger, but he just shared with you instead of eating it all himself. After all, the food needs to be eaten. And you may have admitted to be surviving off of bread crusts at some point. “I can’t have you dying of hunger, we need to escape together after all. And besides, friends take care of each other.” He insisted.

You swear that you fall just a little further in love with him every day. Sometimes you catch yourself staring and have to look away quickly, hoping he didn’t notice. Part of you suspects he does notice judging by the blush that dusts his cheeks you spot before you manage to look away. But if he does notice he doesn’t say anything.

Things continue like this for over a month with the witch becoming more and more impatient as time goes on. The two of you have yet to have found a good plan of escape and can tell things are getting more and more risky as time goes on. And one day, the witch finally snaps, the weight of her hunger breaking through what patience and reason she had left.

“I’m tired to waiting!” She exclaims, stomping on the floor. “I’m so hungry that I’ll just eat him, skinny as he is. And you know what? I’ll eat you too! Heat up the oven already, it’s time for me to feast.” Her gaze is fastened on you as you shakily start putting firewood in the oven in jerky motions. Both of you have gone pale and Venti has gone eerily still in his cage.

All too soon a fire is roaring in the oven. “Now check the temperature,” she orders you with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Venti caught on immediately and started silently gesturing for you not to do it. With his warning you realized what was going on. “Um, how would I do that?” You inquire instead.

“I’ve never used your oven before because you always do all the cooking.” It’s technically true, but you have used similar ovens in the past and know exactly how dangerous checking the temperature could be in this situation. But if you manage to turn it around… well, that might just work.

The witch stomps over to the oven and demonstrates how to check the temperature, leaning towards the oven with her head nearly inside. Rushing up behind her, you push her in and latch the door. There’s silence, so you unlatch the door and peek inside to find a melting gummy bear instead of the witch. “She’s a melting gummy bear. She won’t be eating anyone anymore.” You reassure Venti, who takes a deep breath out in relief. Not wasting any time, you start searching around for the key to the cage and eventually find it in the drawer of her bedroom nightstand..

He cheers with a big grin on his face. “You did it! We’re saved!” Fumbling with the keys and with a couple failed attempts you were able to open the door to his cage and he lept out. “Now I just need to find my treasure! Could you help me find it?” He requested. “Sure,” you say, already starting to look through her kitchen drawers. “What does it look like?” He shrugs. “Oh, you’ll know it when you see it,” he mentions vaguely as he works his way through checking some of the smaller rooms in the house.

After a while of searching you reach into a vase filled with flowers made of spun sugar and pull something out. It appears to be a queen from a chess set with a glowing turquoise orb set in it. “Is this it?” You question loudly so he can hear you from where he’s searching at the other end of the house. Footsteps approach as he rushes to check and his face lights up as he sees it. “That’s it!” He crows as he takes it from your outstretched hand.

He holds it close to his chest and the room flashes with a bright turquoise light. Not expecting the light, it blinded you and you dropped to your knees with a cry. You cover your eyes with your hands belatedly and try desperately to blink the darkness from your vision. Distantly you can hear him curse as he realized his mistake.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes. You feel him gently peel your hands away from your eyes and replace them with his own. A cooling, numbing feeling soothes your eyes. He moves his hands to the sides of your face and runs his thumbs over your eyelids one more time before you dare to try and open them.

At first you’re surprised by your restored vision as you look down at your hands. But when you look up you’re surprised for a whole other reason. Venti still looks like Venti, except for where he doesn’t. There’s a lot more skin showing than there was before, revealing turquoise tattoos on his chest and leg as he crouches in front of you. He is dressed in an immaculate white and gold outfit with turquoise accents that almost seems to glow. But most of all, he has sprouted white wings from his back.

“Huh?” You utter, very articulately, mouth gaping. Rubbing your eyes again, you try to see if that will fix your vision. Nope, he’s still there. You can hardly believe your eyes. He lets out a laugh at your reaction and it sounds like the tinkling of bells. “Am I really so amazing that it’s left you speechless?” He teases. All you can do is nod slowly, which makes him frown.

“I’m still Venti, you know,” he tells you, trying to put you at ease. “Sure, I may be Barbatos too, but I’m still your friend. There is no need for such awe. Though I’m afraid to say that it does mean that I can’t stay. I need to return home. But before I go, I can grant you one wish as a reward for all of your help.”

You gaze at him silently for a couple minutes as he patiently waits for your response. “If you have to go, then I wish for you to take me with you,” you admit. He blinks, surprised. “I would love to, honestly, but you know that means you won’t be able to come back, right? And I’d have to change you. You wouldn’t be human anymore.” You smile and nod. “I’m certain, it’s not like I have anything left here to return to anyways.”

“So be it then,” he says with a grin before he leans it and presses a kiss to your forehead. Your whole body tingles as your features change. Your ears grow longer and narrow into points at the ends. Wings sprout from your back, tearing holes in the back of your shirt. Your height adjusts to make you within an inch or two of his height. Opening your eyes after the transformation, you spy the blush dusting his cheeks as he avoids eye contact with you.

“You missed,” you tease, leaning in closer to him. His blush grows as he looks back at you, gaze getting stuck on your lips as he gulps. You can feel your own cheeks warm at the thought of what must be going through his head. “May I kiss you?” You implore, moving your hands to rest on his knees. He nods his head shakily.

Reaching up to cup the back of his neck with both hands, you pull him down to you so your lips can reach his. The kiss is simple but lingers as you pull away. He pulls you back in before you get too far. The next kiss is more passionate than the first, with an edge of desperation.

Eventually he breaks away. “We’ll need to finish this later,” he hums, nuzzling his nose against yours. “But there will be plenty of time for this in the future. We have all the time in the world now. And I want to spend every second of it with you.”

#eirika writes #venti #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin impact x reader #hansel and gretel au #no really there's an evil gummy bear #his knight in shining armor

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jessie-writes-things · 3 years ago

Text

From the Darkness | Part 1

This is a commission from the lovely @grogusmum! I'm so so so sorry for how late this is love! Life got in the way a bit. Originally I was gonna do this as one giant piece, but you've been waiting too long and so I just needed to get something out. This ended up being a bit more soft-angst rather than fluff but I tried my best to balance it out. The next part will be full-on found family fluff though! 🥰

This whole thing stemmed from that throwaway line 'I've spent much time on Tatooine' from The Marshall. Basically, I just liked the idea of Din having a somewhat secret life hidden away there. It gets explained a bit more in the second part, but that's really all the context you need right now. 😅🥰

Pairing: Din Djarin x Neutral Reader

Words: 2.5k

Genre: Found family, fluff, soft angst

Warnings: Star Wars level violence, vague mentions of PTSD/Trauma, nightmares

Summary: Din comes home to Tattooine and you spend the night on the Razor Crest.

You always heard the Razor Crest before you saw it. The loud hum of the clunky engine made you jump every single time and you had always wondered how long it would be until the ship just dropped out the sky.

Your answer came quicker than you thought. It was around midnight when the first signs came, snippets of voices fluttered by like quiet, sleep-laced whispers on the wind.

See you we do! Coming home we are!

Then came the ship barrelling onto the landing pad, and you weren’t dramatic in saying you thought the planet was about to explode; walls rumbling, ground vibrating. Peli had been prompted to spew out a few choice words, stepping outside just as you did to watch the slivers of silver moonlight spring off the ship as it finally settled down.

The landing had been…less than graceful to say the least. The engine sounded worse than you’ve ever heard. One of her feet had been ripped clear off, making her tilt to the side at an unnerving angle and you didn’t even want to think about the number of outer plates there were to replace.

What worried you more was the look of annoyance on your boss’s face, pinched and red, and you just had enough time to convince her to head back to bed, promising to deal with The Mandalorian until morning. And thank every planet in the galaxy she listened because if the Crest hadn’t woken up the neighbourhood, you knew she sure as hell would of.

There was an etiquette, you learned through years of working on the hanger; you should never enter a person’s ship first. To regulars, it was like walking into someone’s home without being invited. But so early in the morning you weren’t for niceties.

You walked up that ramp like pray on a hunt, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and you may have stumbled a bit, but it was a hunt.

The Mandalorian was clearly waiting for you, sitting in the cockpit, the baby asleep in his pod although you had no doubt he was listening to every word.

Very out of character, he was the first to speak, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘It’s okay.’ It wasn’t…well, it was. You were just grumpy and tired and wanted to go back to bed, ‘She looks a mess.’

‘Can you fix her?’

You had assumed her mess from the work of another bounty gone wrong, maybe Mar again but you weren’t in the right mind to ask. ‘Depends.’

‘On?’

‘What you’re about to ask me to do next.’

There was a silence, a comfortable one but silence, nevertheless. Eyes heavy, you were fading fast, head resting against the passenger seat you had claimed as your own. You weren’t too sure if you had fallen asleep or not. You closed your eyes for what felt like a moment too long and when they opened again, Din had shifted his seat to look at you.

‘We need to stay for a few days.’ His head tilted like a little puppy dog. Helmet still on, you were left trying to imagine how he looked in that moment; eyes squinted, crinkled around the sides in admiration.

Not the exact words you wanted to hear, but not surprising in the slightest.

You decided to push again, ‘Anything else?’

He was smiling, at least you were sure he was, his voice sounding a little lighter despite the artificial muffle of the modulator, ‘Come to bed?’

---

I caught a frog today. Very big frog. I wanted to show you. But ManDad was not very happy with the frog in the big ship. So I ate it, I did. Miss you lots, I did. And so did ManDad. Smiles when he thinks about you, he does. I feel the happiness. Thank you for making him happy.

---

Turns out it hadn’t been Mar that took a hit at his ship.

There had been an incident, Din told you in the quiet of darkness, arms wrapped around you, his head buried safely. Long tufts of hair tickled your jaw and chin whenever he moved or talked, about due for a haircut but that was a battle for another day.

‘Moff Gideon is dead.’ But so was Kuill, the kind Ugnaught who had helped at the start of all this mess. Whatever was left of the Empire was still after the kid and Din still needed to find the Jedi. ‘Karga’s still alive.’

‘I thought he double-crossed you?’ At some point his head had moved onto your chest, letting your fingers card through his hair. You could just about see his face in the small cracks of light, not that he needed to hide anymore, sometimes you think the dark was comforting for him.

The smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips and you really hoped it was because of your touch and not the thought of the Guild agent. Small wins and all that, you guessed. Better to have Greef around than no one at all.

‘I can’t stay long.’ His voice wavered, ever so slightly. You had become accustomed to the bittersweetness of it all, stroking the back of his neck as your heavy eyes began to droop again.

‘That’s okay.’ While it felt like a brick being thrown at your chest, you understood. Truly. The entire Empire was after the kid and, subsequently, him. Not to mention the constant battle against other hunters who had it out for his head.

Because while you knew time was finite with him, at least you had something.

---

Happy to be home we are. ManDad gets lonely sometimes. Feel it I do. I try my best to make him smile but sometimes it does not work. Make him happy, you do. A man should not be lonely for too long, he must not, for loneliness can be deadly. When I am gone, look after him you must. Promise?

---

Quiet moments in the dark were always the loudest for Grogu. Like father like son, you guessed. Neither of them liked the stillness much, both of their minds racing faster than the speed of light. It was always easier to read them in these moments. Flashes of images blended into a mosaic behind your eyes as you tried to hold down a specific part of a memory or a dream.

Some nights it was easier than others. There were times Grogu would sense you in his mind and would purposefully push an image forward, always something he thought was silly like a particularly funny looking frog or a memory of Din singing to some cheesy eighties song you had left behind on a CD during their last visit.

The colourful rhythm and syncopated beats making the walls of the Razor Crest dance along with them and you did everything not to burst out laughing in the still night, biting your lip only for a small snort to escape. Din caught on, barely opening his eyes a crack to mumble out some half-arsed are you okay before rolling over and heading back to sleep again.

It was easier to read Din when he was asleep. Not that you did it much or even intended to in the first place. But sleep tore down the walls he had spent years building up, subconsciously pushing the dreams into your mind. If Grogu’s thoughts were a lulled whisper, Din’s were white noise. Fuzzy static took up most of the space, at times slipping to let through blips of voices or a grainy picture of long past memories. They were too quick to get a full idea of what he was dreaming about.

A boy.

The pop of blasters.

A woman screaming.

One deep breath and the image faded. Din would wake for a moment, eyes closed and he’d turn back to face you. His chest shook, barely and nothing noticeable normally, but you caught it, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and mumbling a soft it’s okay as he settled back into you.

---

Today was not so bad, it was not. But sometimes I still think about the dark place. Scary and lonely was I. For a long, long time. Then there’s light and I see ManDad for the first time. And then everything is better, it is! No longer do I need to fear the dark.

---

Like always, Grogu climbed out of his pod early morning and forced the doors of the sleeping pad open, giving him room to wiggle his way between Din and you. These were the times you’d feel the tug of his mind at the doors of yours, asking permission to be allowed in.

If your consciousness was awake enough, you’d let him, letting the Green Bean explore the distorted images of Earth and your past life. You would find him standing next to you, present you, in the middle of the dirtied street, dark and damp as rain pounded on the concrete around you, drowning out the screams of the people as they rushed by.

He’d hold his arms up, a quiet hold me please passing by and you’d take him in your arms, holding him close. Sparks of fear rolled through you, weighed down by dread and it was hard to tell if it was coming from Grogu or your past self.

Clouds filled the sky like grey shadows. It had taken you a long time to realise they weren’t normal, that the clouds were too big, were floating by too quick to be anything natural.

That had been the first time you saw them. Aliens. Or what people on Earth would think of as aliens. Tall, grey, slimy, the stuff you had only ever seen on TV and they were now shooting from the skies in streaks of red light. Streets pathed in dust that smelt like ash and day-old water.

The two of you walked through the mess like ghosts, people running left and right and through you, some in slow motion while some were ungodly in their speed. They all died in the end. Zapped out of existence by a singular lazar.

Someone yelled about children. Save the children. Spare the children. Collect the children. Round them up near the hanger, discard the ones we don’t need, you know the ones I mean, don’t talk back to me. Their voice washed over you in cold chills, sounding so far underwater that they might as well not be there at all.

A man stopped in front of you. Tall dressed in all black. A human man staring right at you. He didn’t look panicked like the rest, was calm and collected as he pulled out his gun and aimed so perfectly right at your head. You didn’t move, didn’t duck for cover as he pulled the trigger.

You should know better than to look.

There’s a woman behind you. Was a woman behind you. She’s dead when you turn around, a pile of smoking ash on the cobbled path, already being washed away by the rain.

Then there was the child, arms still stretched out to hold their mother’s hand, eyes wide in fear but they don’t cry. No matter how much their heart is racing. No matter how much they want to scream as the man grabs their arm and drags them away, throwing them in line with the rest of them, waiting for their turn to be scanned and thrown in the hanger.

They don’t scream, even when the doors slam shut and darkness is all that’s left.

---

Awake, are you? Sleep I cannot. Wonder if ManDad knows how much I love him, I do. ManDad is amazing he is. He saved me from the dark and keeps me safe, he does. Let’s me eat cookies, he does. Such lovely cookies. Try some, you must. But ManDad hurts, I feel. Feel his heavy heart, I do. So much pain and loss cause a man to be sad. Want him to be sad I do not. When I am gone, please tell him all the time that he is special, he is. Always be my buir, he will.

---

‘Buir.’ Grogu sat on your stomach, watching with wide, curious eyes as he followed your finger to where Din moved back and forth getting ready to head out. It was just some low-level bounty, armature work really, but that didn’t stop the anxiety from budding in the pit of your stomach. Distractions curved the nausea, curled up with the pod door open, blanket tucked under your chin with the residual warmth of his body still hugging you, ‘He’s your buir.’

Din hadn’t put his helmet back on yet, the roll of his eyes contrasted with the small half-smile on his lips. In the light, it was easier to see the damage he had taken during his last fight. There was only so much an ex-bounty-turned-nursing droid and some bacta spray could do. The large gash across his forehead looked painful and you made a mental note to check it over when he returned.

‘Don’t teach him that.’

‘Why not?’

There was a pause. You caught the way the small smile faltered, wavering with doubt and uncertainty and maybe a hint of sadness although that last part was hard to tell. And while the wall Din had built around himself was thick, sadness was strong enough to creep through the cracks. Even Grogu noticed, large ears pricking, head tilting in ManDad’s direction with a small coo.

‘Aliit ori'shya tal'din.’

‘You’ve been practicing.’ The words were light, a brow quirked in your direction and you knew what it meant; you’re adorable. Thank you for trying. At least he was smiling, finishing up the last buckle on his holster ‘Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.’

Maybe you should have been more surprised by the slip of his tongue. The way he carried on getting dressed, not even pausing once at his mistake.

You had heard him say those words before a hundrad times or more. But you wondered how long he had meant those words. Months? Years? Was it a new development? Was it something he had always known?

But there was no surprise. Instead, a warmth planted itself in your chest, and it grew, branches stretching to fill every ounce of your being until it was all you could feel.

‘Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.’ His eyes widened at your mimicked words. The pronunciation was still a bit off and sometimes the emphasis was stressed on the wrong bits, but it was nice to know you were close enough that he understood you, ‘I know what it means now. You can’t trick me anymore.’

Din picked up the helmet and put it on before you had the chance to see the full smile that bloomed, but you heard it, the hints of pure happiness shining through the modulated, ‘I was never trying to trick you.’

You fought back your own smile. The heat spreading across your cheeks told a different story though, serving as a reminder of years old built-up emotions neither of you had time to unpack at that moment.

So, you did what you both did best. You quickly changed the topic, shifting your attention back to the Green Bean plopped on your stomach, happily teething on the small silver ball he sneakily snatched from the controls. A few seconds later and his attention found yours, giving you a gleeful smile as he held out the ball as a peace offering.

‘Ba'buir.’ You pointed back at Din and Grogu laughed, ‘He’s your Ba'buir.’

But Din was already out of sight, halfway to the door when he called back, ‘He’s older than me!’

Older, I surely am. And wiser. Yet know, you do not. Be careful ManDad For space can be dark and dangerous.

The lock hissed as it opened, seemingly louder in the suddenly quiet Razor Crest, ‘Be careful.’

‘Always.’

---

buir = parent

Aliit ori'shya tal'din = "Family is more than blood."

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum ="I love you."; literally: "I will know you forever."

Ba'buir = grandparent

#jessie writes #grogusmum #commission #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian soft angst #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #din djarin fanfic #grogu #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fluff

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generous1ty · 4 years ago

Note

prompt 37 (fluff alphabet) with hajime? (if youre still taking them!!)^^

hihi!

i got 2 Hajime requests in a row-- glad to know i’ve got some fellow Hajime lovers in my following. :D

glad this one is fluff this time, or else i would have done some more angst,, sweats

thank you for requesting! lots of love. <3

✑ ✑ ✑ ✑ ✑ ✑ ✑ ✑ ✑ ✑

Unconditional Love

Fluff Prompt 37 with Hajime!

link to the prompt list!

genre: comfort angst/fluff warnings: reserve course!reader, use of "M" in place for Ms/Mr. after that, none! word count: 1.8k

◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇

you sometimes wondered if being an Ultimate would make your lover like you better.

after all, being a rich reserve course student only had a few perks. it was nothing like the Ultimates that the school was made for.

at times, you couldn't help but feel envious of the Ultimates that had Hajime's full attention-- not to mention the specific Ultimate that would hang around Hajime.

you weren't doubting Hajime's commitment to you-- of course not! however, the fact that he was so infatuated with having an Ultimate Talent, or belonging to the other building was, in fact, a little disheartening.

you had never thought of the Ultimates in a bad light. they were human, after all. the people on the other side of the campus had just exceeded the bar that their talent had already set before them, it was a natural reaction to set higher expectations of them-- they were the best of the best.

you also knew how Hajime thought about himself-- constantly moving and pushing himself; waiting to find something he was ultimately good at.

somehow, that attitude had rubbed off on you. but it was for an entirely different reason.

you never cared about being an Ultimate, but your fear of abandonment and inferiority had stemmed from Hajime: if you weren't an Ultimate, he could definitely find someone who was and date them. he wasn't bad-looking, or lacking in anything. if he wanted to, he could rack in an Ultimate partner faster than you could say "don't break up with me".

so when your boyfriend invited you to hang out with his Ultimate girl friend, you supposed you'd see what she was all about.

"..you're [Y/n], right?" her voice was soft and comforting, as well as her presence. she held a game console in her hands and her attire was modified to her Ultimate.

the Ultimate Gamer..

you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself. Hajime had his fair share of video game runs, so of course he'd attract someone like her. he was well versed in many genres, more so than you.

you forced a small smile, "yeah. you are..?"

"Nanami..." she had paused her game, looking up at you with caring eyes-- a warm pink, which suited her color palette and personality, "Chiaki Nanami."

her smile was beautiful. somehow, it had made you think, "if Hajime decided to ditch me for this girl, i would agree." but, the thought had struck you in the heart more than you thought it would.

"what's wrong, love?" you heard Hajime's voice beside you, asking you to join him on the bench, "is something bothering you?"

you had sat next to him, smiling as you shook your head, "no, it's nothing."

he hummed, "if you say so," he had reached into his bag for his console, trying to lift your mood, "you have your console, right?"

you nodded, "i don't ever leave home without it because of you," a silent laugh left your lips as you teased him, a small blush growing on his face.

"haha, y-yeah.."

"I hear about you a lot, M. [Y/n]. Hajime never shuts up about you," Nanami's voice had chimed in, smiling as Hajime's stutters began to increase.

"wh-wha--" he choked, "Chiaki!"

you couldn't help but laugh and grin as they got along.

it was nice to hear that Hajime talked about you so much-- more so, reassuring. but they really did get along well; talking while playing games, communicating prices and items, even trading information on levels and quests. that had made you self-conscious, too.

although you were playing with them, following along in their video game antics, it really felt like you were third wheeling them. they naturally got along with each other, happily chatting as you listened.

it was nice seeing Hajime so happy-- so comfortable. unlike in your classroom, or anywhere in the reserve course building at all.

was he like that with you, too? did he feel that way about you, too? because you were also a part of the reserve course?

you just needed to know.

. . . .

the time with Nanami had been slow, but had ended, nonetheless. your console had been shoved inside Hajime's bag just next to his as you both walked home together, hand in hand.

it felt awkward.

his fingers intertwined with yours, brows furrowing with concern, “about earlier,” he brought up, giving your hand a little squeeze, “are you sure you’re alright? i’ve noticed you’ve been pretty down recently.”

ah, that’s Hajime for you. always too perceptive.

“seriously, i’m fine,” you waved it off. after all, you were just being possessive, weren’t you? overthinking and worrying; scared he would leave you for someone else.

you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable around you-- that was the last thing you wanted. if you expressed your worries about Chiaki, or you being a reserve course student, or how you had doubted his loyalty and commitment to your relationship, wouldn’t that be seen as overbearing, overprotectiveness and controlling?

you had squeezed back, a mixed expression on your face as you avoided eye contact, “i swear...”

well, he didn’t believe you.

your tone, your body language, and how you glanced towards the Ultimate building almost as much as he did-- of course he’d notice all of that. you weren’t interested in becoming an Ultimate, or even Ultimate Talents in general. so what was constantly on your mind that he needed to call your name three times to get your attention?

he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to get you to say something. he needed to hear something, because he knew you weren’t okay. but he couldn’t force it out of you-- if you really didn’t want to talk, he couldn’t do anything about it. no matter how much worry or pity he felt for you, he couldn’t just pressure you to tell him.

“well, love, you can tell me when you’re ready, alright? i’m always here to listen, and i won’t ever judge you for anything,” his voice was reassuring, as were his words.

genuine care was held in those words as he gently swayed your arms forward, “now, would you like to go get some ice cream? it’s pretty late, so i don’t mind walking you home.”

you smiled at his suggestions, your--once limp--arm now swinging with his, “i’d like that.”

. . . .

Hajime had decided to stay over at your house.

as much as you felt the need to reject him, you didn’t. you probably needed him right now, despite the fact that problems you had were because of him. he was your safe place, your comfort buddy, you couldn’t just let him walk away while you were down.

he felt the same way. he knew how you weren’t happy, so of course he offered to stay over. however, if he made you uncomfortable, he would have went home. thankfully, he was allowed over.

while his arms lay gently on your sides, chin on top of your head as you lay on his chest, he began to speak, “how was the ice cream?”

you chuckled, “it was good. you remembered that i liked going to that ice cream shop, so it was really sweet.”

“yeah, i remembered you saying something about how the ice cream was really good and that you’d go to the place if it were closer to your home. it’s a lot closer to Hope’s Peak, so i decided to stop by while we walked to your house,” he boasted, proud you had noticed that he remembered.

as you stare at his clothes chest, you began to talk about what was on your mind. his words from earlier did still count now, right? so, even if what you said was a little problematic or dramatic, he wouldn’t judge you for it, right?

you bit your lip and just went for it, “...so you know, i...” you clutched the cloth as his sides, digging into his chest deeper to his your face, “i see you looking and aspiring to be an Ultimate so much that.. i feel like i’m-- lacking?”

the wording of it sounded weird to you, stuttering as your thoughts had left your mouth, “i mean-- ugh, sorry-- i-”

you wanted to die. why was this so hard?? he probably felt like you were wasting his time, taking so long to say simple words. all you needed to say was, “if you’re tired of me and me being a reserve course student, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to break up to be with Chiaki,” or something along the lines of that.

but it all dissipated when his hand had gently caressed your head, petting you gently, slowly, comfortingly.

you could hear the smile in his voice, “take your time, [Y/n]. we have all the time in the world to talk about it.”

it was nice, comforting, calming. it felt as if all your worries were carried away with his voice, the room becoming a nice kind of quiet before you had decided to speak again,

“i’m a reserve course student. i’m stupid rich and talentless, while you’ve got Ultimates as friends and are always moving ahead. you aspire to be something greater, so why have me as a lover?” the collected sentence in your head had suddenly spiraled into something you didn’t want to spill, “i’m not trying to be anything great, and i don’t care about things like Ultimate Talents. i’m going to tire you out and keep you from doing what you love. if you want to break up with me and go out with someone like Chiaki, i won’t stop you, you know..”

the room had went silent again. it was your fault this time, feeling like the tension in the air was uncomfortable, and you wished you had never, ever said what you just said.

however, Hajime’s voice hit you like a pile of bricks, “I could never get tired of you.”

his hold on you tightened, shuffling you up so you both were eye-level to kiss you, “you don’t need to be an Ultimate for me to love you, [Y/n]. i’m not going to break up with you because you don’t have a talent you excel greatly in, or have an interest in Ultimate Talent like i do. you’re your own person, i don’t expect you to be into things i like,” his thumb brushed over your cheek as he cupped it in his hand, “i’m dating you because i love you, not for a title or a talent. you ground me when i get to excessive, and help me face reality even when it’s harsh.”

his smile had felt so comforting as he kissed the bridge of your nose, “you are always going to be you, and i’ll always love you for that.”

and he truly did.

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sunkaashi · 4 years ago

Text

solo carol — oikawa toru x reader

genre: angst with a fluff twist.

warnings: none.

word count: 1.6k

synopsis: sometimes, the holidays can bring out the best and the worst feelings in ourselves. being away from home during this time of year just makes it specially harder. oikawa toru always knew exactly what he wanted in life, but he never thought achieving his dreams would cost him so much.

tris' note: this was inspired by the song “only the brave” by louis tomlinson, but i'd say I added a lil of a twist to it. if you want, you can listen to it to help you get into the narrative. reblogs are always deeply appreciated and help me tons! ♡

a special thanks to @tetsunation for reading the first draft to this, and to @hcn421 for helping me with my block ♡

Shades of red and yellow illuminated the street cobblestones, the gleaming Christmas lights guiding his way to a yet unknown destination. As he walked down the avenue, Oikawa let his eyes wander all over his surroundings, his gaze running almost as fast as his mind did. Despite that, Toru paced slowly along the sidewalk, soaking in the scenery before him. It really was a beautiful view.

But it wasn’t about the garlands wrapped around the streetlights, nor the shiny golden ornaments that delicately hanged from them. Even the decorated trees didn’t quite catch his attention that night. It was something else that fought for his heart instead. Something that he hadn’t had a taste of for a while now.

And tonight, his undying desire felt like being parched while standing in front of the sea.

Cheerful laughs echoed through the air as little children sprinted past him, unaware of the man’s presence. Yet, he didn’t mind, his sheepish giggle joining theirs. Downtown street bars buzzed with loud chatter, smiles painted on unfamiliar faces as a natural halo appeared to involve every single one of them. The warmth Oikawa felt rushing through his core had nothing to do with the sultry weather, rather, it emanated from that sight before his eyes.

Still, he seemed to lack a light of his own, and basking in other people’s glow, as joyful as it may be, comes with a price. Toru was left alone, only his shadow accompanying him through the night.

Staring at his silhouette reflecting onto the ground, the man moved his hand out of the pocket and to his nape, carefully watching his own contour mirroring him in every move. And even with every step taken that assured him a bond between himself and the dark figure, he still felt like something was out of place.

Oikawa could feel his slouched shoulders pushing him down. For a man who always stood with his head held high, there was only so much he could take. As he dragged his feet through the curb, he asked himself when it all changed so fast.

A quiver took over his body as if he refused to admit to that idea. He had it all, didn’t he? He sneered, lightly shaking his head. If he acted tough enough, maybe his thoughts would catch up to his actions, right? At least that’s what he wanted to believe.

Cracking his neck, he looked up to the clear summer sky, determined to push those thoughts away as if doing so would make it all magically fall back into place. As his eyes met the silver shimmer from the stars, which were shining a little brighter than they usually did, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the beauty of it. Most of all, he was struck by what it reminded him of. He thought back to Miyagi. To Japan. To home.

“Oji-san!” His nephew came running down in his direction, almost knocking him over with all the strength in his little body. “You’ll never believe what Santa got me for Christmas! Guess it, guess it!”

“Wow, calm down, kiddo!” Toru laughed as he held the 6-year-old into his arms. “Hm, let me think…” He said looking up to the ceiling and softly clasping his chin. “Legos?”

“Better than that!” The little guy answered while squinting in joy, eyes twinkling in a way his uncle had never seen before.

“Hm, a bike?” He asked calmly, messing with the kid, knowing that was the present he’d gotten last Christmas. The teenager tried to hold back a giggle, but mocking his nephew was just too much fun.

“No, oji-san! It’s the coolest gift ever! Try again!”

“Is it a rocketship?” Toru said, widening his stare like even himself would be excited if that was the case. But the child sighed, rolling his eyes. Hiding a smirk, the older boy decided to stop playing around, finally giving in to the youngster’s wishes. “I give up! I have no idea! What is it!?"

“A volleyball! Just like yours!”

Oikawa smiled at the reminiscences lingering in the air, the memories immersing his senses back to the time and place he never wanted to leave. Closing his eyes, he could still feel the ghost of his nephew’s embrace, a tight and cozy grasp around his neck, saying more than words ever could. But his daydream didn’t last long enough to suppress the void hoovering his heart. As soon as he opened his lids, he was taken back to reality.

And then, just when he thought there was nothing else that could haunt him that night, a sore sight caught his attention, putting out the last flicker of flame that rested in his almond eyes.

It was just a glimpse, just some little specks of sand running down the hourglass of his life. Those few seconds usually would barely mean anything in the long run, but tonight that was enough to wash away his beam. Slightly furrowing his brows into a hurtful look, he tried to fight back the tears threatening to fall down his face.

An innocent couple running across the street, hands intertwined in a knot while brief chuckles scaped now and then, an exchange of accomplice looks giving out their most clandestine thoughts. It was at that moment, when unforgiving loneliness meets undeniable happiness, that Toru fell apart.

Slowly, he made his way to the building next to him, leaning his back onto the brick walls of the construction. He stood there, swallowing down the feelings that begged him to be screamed out.

He always knew he’d have to make sacrifices for his dreams. But all out of all the things he missed, there was only one that he would never forgive himself for letting go. And as he watched love surrounding him from every corner, it was impossible not to think of it. Not to think of you.

Raindrops cascaded down the windows of the apartment as the man dove himself further under the covers. Shrinking his body between the sheets, Oikawa felt a too familiar touch enveloping his torso, comforting him with a warmth that even sunlight could not compete with.

“Couldn’t you just stay like this all day?” Toru groaned as his fingers found their way to your locks, gently caressing your hair.

“Mhm?” You hummed in response, too disoriented by your lack of sleep to even process what he was saying. Leisurely, you opened one of your eyes to peek at your boyfriend, lips instantly curling up into a smirk.

“Nothing, love” He chortled. Oikawa didn't need to ask you again, he’d found his answer in the way you looked at him.

"Someone woke up in a good mood." You said, trying to tease the boy. "Santa must've gotten you a very special gift."

"I'm looking at it right now."

Brushing against your skin, his other hand played with the buttons of your shirt, the one you were too tired to take off the night before.

“I’m going to miss this. Miss you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not now, at least”

“But soon you will” You paused, a heavy silence filling the room. “Toru…" Before you could finish your sentence, he delicately pushed you away, placing one of his hands onto your chin, obliging you to look into his eyes.

"Please… Let’s not think about that now.” Pulling you closer to his body, he held you tighter and tighter by the minute, afraid that if he ever let go, you’d slip away.

And you did.

Looking back at it, he regretted everything. All the words left unsaid, all the things he should've done so that he’d have you in his arms right now. But you couldn't leave it all behind just to follow him to the other side of the world. Even if you wanted to, he would've never had the heart to ask you such a thing.

So you both decided to break it off.

Yet, it had been two years and there wasn’t a single day when you didn’t cross his mind. And right now, when the pounding sound of bells resonated throughout the air, bringing him back to earth, Oikawa believed it must’ve been some kind of sign that you were the person he was thinking about. It was only then that Toru realized he was standing at a church.

Step by step, he moved away from the wall, drawn by the chimes warning him that it was already midnight. Christmas time. Walking towards the olden gates of the holy ground, he contemplated the image in front of him, being hit by one final blow.

Families gathered all around the church, the words "Merry Christmas" being repeated over and over again as everyone exchanged smiles and caring hugs. Even if he wasn't necessarily a religious person himself, let alone christian, Toru still felt inspired by the passion radiating from them.

As the mass finally started, the loud buzzing of the crowd quieting down, he closed his eyes, his mind transporting him to the place he wanted to be.

So he decided to pray. Pray for his loved ones. Pray for you.

He asked for your health, for your well-being, for your happiness and, as much as it hurt him, for you to find love too. The loneliness he felt was something he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemies, and you just happened to be one of his favorite people in the world.

Oikawa didn't even know whom he was praying to. Even so, his wishes were so pure that someone must've heard him because it was in the moment he said his last prayers that his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. A call coming in.

When he saw the name that popped on the screen, Toru thought his eyes were probably deceiving him. That's just what his heart wanted to see.

But as soon as he picked up the phone, your unmistakable voice woke him in a rush.

Maybe there was something magical about the holidays after all.

#oikawa angst #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #hq oikawa #oikawa toru #toru oikawa x you #toru oikawa x reader #oikawa toru angst #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu angst #seijoh angst #toru oikawa #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x y/n #constellations ✨

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fairycosmos · 3 years ago

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hey, i have a sister who struggles with addiction. she moved out from our parents to my place when she turned 18, so that she could have some space and that her highs and lows wouldnt affect our younger siblings that much. but shes been going through a hard time for quite long now, which causes her to treat us around her like complete shit. her behaviour led into a pretty bad argument, which led to me driving her to our parents in the middle of the night cause i couldnt mentally or physically handle the shit she was giving me anymore. after that night, she never returned to mine and told our parents to pick her stuff and move it into a new apartment that she got for herself (which locates in the same building as her friends who she uses substances with). she hasnt reached out to me at all, even though we have been around each other and i cant bare to approach her either, cause im still upset and hurt. my mom said that shes already prepared to lose her. i heard from her friends that shes told them that if she goes unconscious, theyre not allowed to call the ambulance or try to help her. i am worried sick to my stomach everytime i think about her and i feel so powerless. my parents just say that theres nothing more we can do, she goes to psychotherapy and shes under the social services but still i feel like we should do something more to help her or to stop her from destroying herself. im so sorry if this message makes you feel uncomfortable, but since ive followed you for quite awhile and i know your experiences with these things, i would appreciate if you could help me with this situation or at least try to give me some advice, how to cope with these feelings that come from loving your sister that struggles. i dont want to lose her.

hey, i am so sorry to hear this. there's a lot i could say and a lot i want to say but can't really articulate. i don't think there's any one size fits all advice for such a complex and heartbreaking situation. i guess i'll begin with what i'm sure of, and that is that your boundaries and feelings are justified. addiction literally rewires your brain and perception of the world beyond recognition, to the point where the only thing the person cares about is their vice. it's just total tunnel vision, selfishness denial and violence on top of selfishness denial and violence. being around ppl like that, especially a loved one, is beyond exhausting, it's its own special kind of hell. like screaming at a brick wall. it's totally understandable that you had to take a step back after falling victim to her erratic, manipulative and abusive behaviour. the drug use explains it but it absolutely does not excuse it. you're really brave for putting your foot down and prioritizing your own mental stability when it all got to be too much. know you never have to regret that. having said that, it's possible for two conflicting feelings to coexist and for them both to be (for lack of a better word) valid. she's your sister - of course you're worried, of course you're terrified for her. of course you love her even while feeling like you hate her, at times. it's alright to let your emotions be illogical, to just weather the storm and let them pass through you. write it down, talk to your loved ones, maybe consider speaking to a therapist or hotline over it. it's perfectly normal to need that support and talking through your circumstances may be illuminating/lead to some personal revelations regarding how you want to approach this. ultimately, you're angry because you care. after a while i was like that too, with my sister. although i tried to let her know that i was more worried than frustrated during our conversations, sometimes i still couldn't help the internal rage. all because i wanted her to wake up to reality and for her to be okay - i didn't get her thought process at all, didn't get her version of the world. and i felt so fucking powerless because she just strayed so quickly from her path, despite what she was telling me, despite her being relatively fine mere months prior. despite us being best friends and on good terms. it's a headfuck, and you don't have to know what to do, you don't have to have anything figured out. just try to focus on what you need, today.

the hardest thing to accept is the fundamental truth of the situation, and that is that you can't fix this for her. can't love her out of it, can't enable her out of it, can't fight her out of it. all you can do is be there for her emotionally while still maintaining the appropriate boundaries necessary to preserve ur own mental wellbeing. it's completely okay if you need more time - i know you said you cant bear to reach out to her at the moment, which makes total sense. but since you sent this message and i can still see that you're beyond concerned and it's only getting worse, maybe you could consider calling her or sending her a text or meeting her for coffee when you're ready. just to let her know you haven't stopped thinking of her. and that you care about her so much, that when/if she's ready to get help you will be with her every step of the way. even if shes battling addiction for the rest of her life. if she screams at you, if she breaks down, if she ignores you for what you say - fine. but at least she'll know on some level that she is not alone, and at least you'll know you did what you could with what was in your control. also about her being under social services - is there any way you could get in touch with them, maybe explain that youre still worried about her and that you think she needs a higher level of care, maybe ask them if theres anything proactive you can do in collaboration with them to maximize the help shes getting? i dont know how it works where you are, that might be a no go, but i just thought i'd mention it. i'm sorry, i know it's a disappointing answer, but i really don't realistically think there's any other. there's only so much of this that is in your hands and so far it sounds like you've done and are doing everything possible to stay sane while looking out for her. i really really hope something clicks for her and that she starts to listen to you and her loved ones soon, that she begins to approach recovery out of the genuine need to get better. but it really does have to come from within her, all you can do is encourage it. im sending you both so much love. i know more than anyone how fucking stressful it is to have to wake up to this every day, and i'm so sorry. if you need someone to talk to, my inbox will always be open. you deserve peace in your own life, too. take care x

resource one

resource two

resource three

#tw addiction #tw drugs #anon #talking

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a-simple-imagine · 4 years ago

Text

Run Away With Me

Synopsis: Every moment shared with Charlie Weasley is an adventure all it’s own. How you wish to spend every moment together and all it takes is to run away.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

Words: 6.3k+

A/N - Every year I post a story on my birthday and today’s the day I turn a year older. Usually these stories are pretty sad but this year I wrote something a little softer so here is my birthday present for you guys, I hope you enjoy it.

1. A Stolen Kiss

A bright-eyed and clueless young student, excited to be attending a school of magic. Nobody else in your family had magic so it was a big surprise when you received a letter alongside a weird lady who looked like she just stepped out of the early 1920s. Sat between your parents, the older woman explained the entire situation much to your excitement and your parents' confusion.

Diagon alley had been your first experience of all things magical; it had been like stepping into another world instead of just any old street in London. There were book shops lined with all kinds of books, some were bigger than your head while others were tiny. A shop that sold weird and kinda gross jars full of who knows what. There was a place that only sold brooms but according to the list you had read like a hundred times, first years weren't allowed their own brooms. You spent what felt like a lifetime at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions getting fitted for robes. Your parents were utterly fascinated by all the different styles and kept asking questions that made the experience so much longer than it really needed to be. You'd never had a pet before, but after a lot of begging they let you pick out a cat; he was a small Persian cat. Not quite a kitten but not quite fully grown. Checking off each item as you went along, you were exhausted by the end of it. There was even enough time for a trip to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour where you had enjoyed a cone of strawberries and cream with sprinkles on top. All that was left on your list was a wand. Peeling gold letters rested over the door of a shop that read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Stepping inside it was a tiny little store with no costumers. Thousands of narrow boxes lined the walls all the way up to the ceiling. It didn't take long for the weird old man to give you a wand that felt warm in your hand. Unlike the other disasters that came at the result of you waving various wands, a stream of red and gold sparks shoot out the end of this one like a mini firework. The wand chooses the wizard whatever the hell that meant. All ready and packed for Hogwarts, you were really giddy to go. Your mother cried as she waved you off to boarding school but you couldn't sit still. The train ride took hours and it was a little lonely considering you didn't know anyone but as soon as you entered the castle you knew it was exactly where you were meant to be. The building was massive and practically oozed magic and mystery through each brick. The pictures, much to your surprise, were moving on their own. Hogwarts had four houses and each student had to sit on a tall stool, put on a funny talking hat which would decide ultimately where they belong.

The very first friend you made was Nymphadora Tonks but only because she was in all of your classes and by some twist of fate you always ended up seated together. She was a sweet girl with pink hair and a talent for mischief. There was never a dull moment with you two. Then there was Charlie Weasley. Ever since that brisk day in October when he had ridden in clumsily on his white horse to save the day, the two of you had been the best of friends. You were still getting used to all your different classes. Potions class, however, was proving the most difficult. Too many ingredients and types to get used to. Not to mention Snape was just... mean. The task had been to prepare a simple Wiggenweld Potion; a powerful healing potion that can be used to heal injuries, or reverse the effects of a Sleeping Draught. The book was open on the desk as you carefully followed the instructions until.... poof. All the confidence you'd gained since arriving disappeared as Snape scolded you in front of everyone for messing up. Charlie had swooped in to take the blame landing himself in late-night detention. On the other hand, you got to leave with your tail between your legs and a few house points shaved off the total. And yet even his small act of kindness wasn't enough to capture your affection at least not at first. For the little version of yourself was infatuated with another Weasley. An older Weasley.

The nerves of a handful of students could be felt by anyone sat in the great hall for breakfast. Tonks is sat beside you running butter over a piece of toast. Stifling a yawn, Charlie takes a seat across from the two of you sporting a jumper of Gryffindor red and gold.

"Good morning," You flash your cheeriest, half-asleep smile bringing your spoon of Cheeri Owls to your lips. "Nervous?"

"A little," He was looking especially pale today suggesting he was more than just a little.

"You should be," Tonks perks up. "It's only the last game of the season and all hope rides on the seeker,"

"No pressure then," Charlie huffs out a dull laugh. The boy excelled in his position as the Gryffindor seeker but there was no way to determine how he'd play today when he was carrying the hopes and dreams of his teammates and entire house.

"You should eat something," You suggest, pushing a bowl of assorted fruit forward. There was little you could to make him feel better except take his spot but that wasn't allowed. You also probably wouldn't be that good. "Might make you feel better?"

"I'm too nervous to eat," He insisted but he still took an apple; rolling the red fruit between his palms.

"Win or lose you're still number one in our heart, right Tonks?" Elbowing her gently, you shovel another spoonful of 'O' shapes into your mouth.

"Sure," she shrugs. "If you want we can jinx the other team's seeker? I've been practising."

"Or... how much time do we have? I can get one of the older students to brew some Felix Felicis." You play along. "Nothing like a little liquid luck to win a game."

"You both know that's not allowed," Charlie took a large bite of his apple.

"When has Tonks ever cared about rules," Sometimes you wish she did care, you probably wouldn't have ended up in detention so many times alongside her.

"Thanks but no," he took another bite. "We have to win fair and square."

The conversation drifted from nerves to lost spells and planned practical jokes. Charlie seemed to relax a little the more he spoke. Maybe all he needed was a distraction to cheer him up.

"We need to take a trip to Hogsmeade" Tonk announces. "I'm out of dungbombs."

"Urgh- you and that silly joke shop." You can't help but roll your eyes but it was all good-natured. Despite hardly ever buying anything yourself, you spent an awful lot of time at Zonko's infamous little joke shop. "I could do with a trip outside the castle though. You should come too Charlie and maybe... you could ask Bill if he wants to come?"

"You're still gushing over Bill," Now it was Tonks turn to elbow you playfully, her lips curling up into a tantalising smirk.

"I do not gush over him," you state firmly, brows knitting together in a frown. You didn't appreciate being made fun. Bill was older, wiser and always made time to show you kindness. He made your little heart flutter whenever you saw him and Tonks took every opportunity to tease you about it. "I just thought It'd be nice is all. Wouldn't you agree, Charlie?"

"If you want him to come, ask him yourself." He responds, taking a large gulp of his juice.

"She won't because she has a crush."

"I don't have a crush Nymphadora- stop it," It was infinitely more embarrassing talking about this with Charlie sat at the table. "Don't ask him then, I don't care."

"Yes you do," Placing her arm around your shoulder, she pulls you into her side. "Because you're in love-"

"I am not!" You snap, pushing out of her grip.

"I'll see you guys later." The two of you share a look as Charlie disappears without another word. It was probably just pregame nerves.

"You know what? I think I'll get some frogspawn soap too and put it in the prefects' bathroom." Typical Tonks.

You'd come to learn through your time at Hogwarts that Quidditch was the most popular sport among wizards. And each house had their own team who compete for a trophy and bragging rights. Today was the final game thankfully. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Apparently, it came down to these two a lot. As the Gryffindor team filter out of the changing rooms, you slip inside to find Charlie sitting on a little bench.

"Guess who?" You sing-song, slapping your hands over his eyes but only briefly. He turns to look at you with an almost sour expression.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to support you," you reply soft, offering a smile he couldn't even see as he turned away.

"You're not supposed to be in here," Had you done something to upset him? Surely not. This was the first time you were seeing him since breakfast so there hadn't been a moment for you to mess things up and yet, his voice held an icy chill.

"Guess Tonks is rubbing off on me?" You jest, looking around the room. It was empty apart from you two. Bags and clothes scattered across benches or half shoved into lockers. A chalkboard stood in the corner with drawings you couldn't understand. "I just wanted to see how you were doing before the big game, is all. We were worried about you."

"You were worried about me," He repeats slowly, looking up at you. "I thought you hated quidditch."

"I still do," Your shoulders rise in a little shrug. "It's silly. Doesn't matter how hard the team works or how many goals it's pretty much all decided by how good the seeker is so why even have goals?"

"Score enough goals before the snitch is caught and anyone could win," He perks up. "You just don't understand how good and exciting it is."

Your lips curl up in appreciation for Charlie Weasley and his love for quidditch. It didn't possess the sparkle that came along when he talks about dragons but it was still nice to see him liven up. "Then go out there and show me how exciting it is,"

You stand under the spotlight of his gaze as he seemingly takes in your choice of attire; wearing the Gryffindor colours with pride to show your support. You even let Tonks paint your face after she promised not to draw genitalia. "Do you really think we're gonna win? What if I mess up and everyone hates me?"

"Then you mess up and everyone hates you," You shrug a little. "But that's not gonna happen and you know why?" His head shakes slowly. "It's because you're the best seeker at this school Charles Weasley." You place your hands on either side of his shoulders. "And I believe in you."

"How does that help me?" With your index finger under his chin, you force him to meet your eyes.

"Because I'm never wrong."

"That doesn't sound right." He tries to look away but you stop him.

"But it is," You offer a reassuring smile; one full of determination. "You've got this Charlie. So come on before you miss the game entirely."

The cheers outside were seemingly growing louder by the second. With a deep breath, Charlie stands up, grabbing his broom. "You're staying to watch, right?"

"Of course. Tonks is up in the stands too." Taking his hand, you lead the way out of the tent. "Consider us your good luck charms." Charlie brings the both of you to an abrupt stop before you even reach the opening of the tent, pulling you back to him. "What's up?"

The peppering of freckles that covered Charlie's face was even more vibrant against the rose pink blush. You squeeze his hand a little hoping it makes him feel better. And then it happens. The crowd grows silent in your ear but only for a moment as Charlie's surprisingly soft lips crash clumsily against yours. "For good luck," his whispers; his hand slipping from yours as he leaves you dumbfounded.

"He okay?" Tonks asks as you return from your trip.

"Yeah... still nervous," You reply, sitting down beside her. "It's his first big game after all."

"Are you okay?" The crowd erupts into cheers as the Gryffindor team flys in first. You're almost too embarrassed to look for Charlie; worried about what you might find so you keep your head down. "You look like you've just seen a troll or something?"

"Mhmm," you hum, forcing yourself to watch the Slytherin team as they enter. Why had Charlie kissed you? Did it mean he liked you or was he just messing around? Your head swirled with possibilities.

"You want a sweet?" Your friend offers as the game finally starts. It takes you a second to register but you smile, reaching into the little bag she was holding only to come to a stop.

"They're not gonna burn my tongue off or something are they?"

"No," Her chuckle sounded a little too innocent but you trust her for some reason. Taking a piece of confectionery out of the paper bag.

"Charlie... kissed me." You announce, throwing the sweet into you mouth; face scrunching up when they turn out to be sour. Ten points to Slytherin as they take the lead.

"He what?"

"He... kissed me."

2. Together

Who was Bill Weasley but a distant playground crush after that day. And your time of classrooms and magic lessons came swiftly to an end; how bittersweet it felt to leave a place you loved dearly. A once naive little girl stepping into the unknown now called the Wizarding World Home. Now you would go on to be a healer which was simply a magical doctor although your parents strongly disagreed with the comparison. However proud they were of you there would always be some part of them that wished you had chosen to become a lawyer or 'real' doctor.

Bathed in the warm embrace of the setting sun, you ponder the tranquility in a bed of green grass. The youngest Weasley lay beside you, struggling to keep still as often children do. She was similar to her brother in that way who now paced back and forth a mere few steps away. The invitation had been for dinner but you arrived a little early. The burrow was always such a welcoming place like stepping into a home you used to live in many moons ago; it was cosy and warm and there was no doubt that many lived there. You found your house to be almost the opposite, it always looked like nobody lived there. Immaculate. Polished. Cold.

"Will you stop pacing, you're making me nervous." You call out to your boyfriend, opening your eyes only to squint at the bright light. "What's wrong with you?"

Charlie comes to a stop as you sit up; Ginny mimics you in sitting up but the boy's eyes stay on you. The longer he stared, the more the pit in your stomach grew; what exactly hid behind his blank expression. He normally possessed such a playful warmth but it seemed to have vanished as of late. Plucking a stray purple flower, you enclose it in the palm of your hands. "You know I love dragons right?"

"Of course," Since meeting him, he had probably managed to slip dragons into every conversation you had ever had. It was at a point where you knew far more about dragons than you ever really cared to know. Many found his obsession annoying because that's what he so obviously was, obsessed but you found it enticing. Charming, even. Opening up your hand, a small butterfly with deep plum-purple wings flutters into the air and onto a giggly Ginny's nose. The innocent glee of a child; how those days were gone for you. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Promise you won't be mad?" It would be foolish to make such a promise when there was no way to guarantee your reaction. Whatever it was must be bad, if he was this worried. Your shoulders rise a little then fall.

"I make no such promises- just tell me."

Charlie took a breath that travelled on the wind to your ears before he blurted out. "I'm moving to Romania."

"Okay," Is your first reaction while your brain tries to make sense of something it didn't want to hear. "Wait- what?"

"Charlie is moving away to work with big scary dragons," Ginny announces playfully, baring her little hands like claws.

The once small pit grew into a mighty black hole of uncertainty and sadness that threatened to swallow you whole. There had been conversations shared between friends of Charlie wanting to move away to a foreign land, just to finally see a dragon but you had never taken it at face value. Always so convinced it was but a dream rather like those of when you were little and you wished to be a vampire. Technically back then you didn't know they actually existed but still, even now it was never going to come true. Eyes cast upon the second eldest Weasley, he kicks up the grass with his hands buried in the pockets of his pants. "It's the nearest Dragon reserve."

That was something you already knew but it didn't make the decision, at least in your eyes, any less confusing. Instead, it prompted water to well up in your eyes for this was something that affected not only him and his family but your life too. "I... I don't know what to say,"

"Hey Ginny, can you go check if dinner's ready yet?"

"No- why can't you do it?" The bark behind her words was very in character for the fiesty young Weasley. Blinking away the tears, you plaster on the best smile you can muster.

"If you go check on dinner I promise we can play a game later, okay? Exploding snap maybe?"

"Really?" She eyes you suspicious probably because it was a promise you had broken before. Not always for the right reasons but this time it was genuine. Charlie clearly wanted this to be a private conversation or perhaps he was just saving you for the inevitable moment where she asks why you're crying. Ginny scrambles to feet when you nod and skips off towards the gravity-defying house. It still amazed you that the building hadn't fallen yet. Rising to your feet you brush yourself off.

"You know I want nothing more than to work with Dragons and this is the only way I can do that," There was no mistaking the serious tone that came along with his words. It didn't matter what you said there was no changing his mind but you wouldn't do that anyway. It seemed cruel to even try to get him to give up on something so precious and you would never want to do that to him. "I have an opportunity to do something I love and I won't waste it to get some boring job at the ministry."

"I don't expect you too..." You wanted nothing more than to tell him to stay; beg him even. You were fighting against the selfish little devil that was stabbing you in the heart. It was a dull, deep pain in your chest. You wanted Charlie to follow his dreams, you just never expected them to not include you. "It's just a lot to take in."

"I know," The red-headed boy walks ever so slowly over to you, taking both hands in his. His hands had always felt a little rough ever since Hogwarts. You used to complain back then and insist he needed to moisturise but over time you had grown fond of the familiarity. How you wished this tender moment could last forever because it very well might be your last. You're caught off guard when he yanks you forward. You stumble into his chest where he wraps his arms around you like the big teddy bear he was. You breathe in every inch of him like it was the last time. The intoxicating aroma of an early walk in the woods; that fresh earthy smell that really makes you appreciate where you are. You could almost picture the pine trees.

"I feel like I'm losing you," Your words but a whisper, lost on the breeze.

"You're not," His grip around you tightens and suddenly your in the air, spinning around. "You could never get rid of me that easily.

"Charlie," You fight back a smile as you return to the ground; burying your face in the nook of his neck. "What's gonna happen to us?"

"About that-"

"Because I don't know if I can do the whole long-distance thing? So do we break up?" The tears threaten to fall once again as you pull back to get a good look at him. You never wanted to forget the emerald of his eyes or each and every freckle that called his body home. The unusual scare that adorned his eyebrow that was always amusing to look at. If that was his true purpose to break up with you then there would be no stopping the tears when they finally burst through the damn.

"No, I-"

"Because that's a little mean Charlie, you could have at least waited until after dinner. Should have done it first actua-"

You words become mumbled by the palm of his hand which he's placed over your mouth like a seal of protection. "Shush for a minute."

It's hard to resist so you simply don't; sticking your tongue you deliberately lick the palm of his hand but it seems to not phase him whatsoever.

"I'm not breaking up with you, silly," You meet his gaze. "I was kind of thinking you could come with me?"

Reaching up, you yank his hand away. "To Romania? You've got to be joking."

"Why not?"

Did you even know how to answer that? There were so many reasons why one should not just up and leave to go live in a completely different country with the boy they dated through high school. "I can't just up and leave my family- my mum will be devastated."

"I'll talk to her about it," Charlie hums softly, placing a delicate kiss upon your forehead. "Your mum loves me and she wants you to be happy."

"Dinner's Ready," For such a small girl, Ginny had one big mouth. There was no mistaking her call. However, this whole situation now felt a little... off. Could you even sit through dinner without it all becoming weird?

"We're coming," Charlie yells back; offering up his hand which you reluctantly take and he leads the way back to the house. "You want to be a healer right? You could do that in Romania."

"I guess," You weren't exactly worried about not finding a job.

"You don't have to decide right now," He tells you before you have a chance to speak up again. "Just think about it. I mean the invitation is there and for what it's worth, I'd really like you to come."

3. Creeping doubts

It took a lot of convincing but despite everything you decided to follow Charlie into the Unknown. Your parents weren't thrilled with the decision but they respected it; they were just worried about what would happen if something went wrong. And as their only child, they would obviously miss you. A lot of time was spent at the burrow that summer before moving to Romania; you were beginning to feel like an honorary Weasley only with the experience of having been a muggle for the first eleven years of your life. It was but a three-hour flight to Romania and your mother had sobbed at the airport. It made you think back to your first time stepping onto the Hogwarts express, leaving your parents behind to go to a magical boarding school in Scotland. It was a peculiar thought but a nice one. One you wished to cherish. Now in a foreign land with no support system behind you other than a boy you had been dating for years, you were ready for a new adventure. And there was officially no doubt in your mind that you would do just about anything for Charlie Weasley.

"It's not much," Charlie sets his suitcase down on the table. "Best I could do, for now, I'm afraid."

"It's fine," It was an old apartment in a building full of what you assumed were muggles. There was a small living room area with an ugly pea-coloured couch nestled against one wall. Beside it was a small coffee table and on the other side of the room was a TV, you weren't convinced actually worked. Then there was the kitchen which was attached to the living room. It had a fridge, a cooker and some cupboards. The only other room was a bedroom that literally only housed a bed in at the moment, then there was a door that leads on to the bathroom. It definitely wasn't much but a crappy apartment was just part of the experience, right? At least that's what you were telling yourself. "it'll feel like home soon enough," You had everything you needed to make this place feel like home right in your suitcase; oh the joys of magic. Patting yourself down, you search for the key to easy unpacking. "Uh... have you seen my wand?"

His head shakes and wears an amused grin. "You remembered to bring it right?"

"Yes," you huff. "I was gonna unpack," Falling back against the wall, you slide down onto the floor which you imagine hasn't been cleaned in a while considering the dust. "It's gonna take so long without my wand- which may actually be in the suitcase now that I think about it."

"Did you forget I'm a wizard too?"

"You do it then," You drop your head back against the wall. "I'm starving."

"actually have you seen my wand?"

You giggle to yourself "You're an idiot,"

"Hey- you lost your wand too." His shadow lingers over you as he comes to join you against the wall. Taking up a seat beside you, your head falls to rest against his shoulder.

"Can we get pizza? I saw some of those leaflets when we came in so we could order some?"

"Whatever you want, my love."

As time ticks on the pizza box is left discarded in the kitchen as the two of you retire for the night. Who knew not actually unpacking but simply thinking about it while eating pizza on the dirty ground could be so much work. You struggle to hold back a yawn as you snuggle up to him trying to absorb as much of his body heat as you can. All that lay across the two of you were a blanket and this building was next exactly the warmest. "Do you think we'll be okay? "You ponder aloud; it was a question that had been on your mind since agreeing to follow him to Romania. For not many people stay together with their high school loves. What if things fall apart now that you're in the 'real' world? What if this was all just a huge mistake?

"What do you mean?" Always such a simple boy; you wonder how he deals with his anxieties. Did he actually not know what you meant or was he merely putting on a brave face? A once proud Gryffindor suggested that he always looked to be brave above anything else.

"Do you think we'll be okay?" You repeat as if that somehow answers his question but it must have done something because even in the darkness you can just tell he's smiling.

"You worry way too much." Charlie laughs.

"You don't worry enough,"

He lays a kiss upon the top of your head, his hand moving up and down your arm. "It used to be the other way around."

"I was young and reckless back then. "How you missed the days where you ran around the halls of Hogwarts with reckless abandon. Well, not entirely reckless that was more Tonks but things had definitely felt simpler back then.

"You're still young and reckless now, I just have to hear you stress about it afterwards." Charlie taunts, pinching your arm. You recoil at the sharp pain.

"Shush."

"Being in Romania doesn't change anything," He expresses; his voice sounding louder in the quiet darkness. "I loved you back home and I still love you now. I'm really glad you decided to come with me."

Hoping to distract yourself from every worrying thought that clouded your brain you decide it's time to change the subject. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"Getting to work with Dragons all day every day? that's like dream come true."

"A dangerous one," Dragons were perhaps the most vicious creatures around other than humans. As captivating as they were and as much as charlie adored them, you couldn't help but worry about his safety. It seemed no matter the topic this evening you'd find a way to stress yourself out.

"I'll be fine, I'll have you there to patch me up," That he will for you had taken on the role as a healer willing to help out with all the injuries that inevitably come from dealing with dragons. You wouldn't admit it but you weren't quite convinced you were up to the task; you had never actually dealt with dragon-related injuries so this was like diving headfirst into the ocean when you only just learned how to swim in a training pool. "and if not- well, we had a good run."

"Don't joke about that," Nuzzling against his chest, you finally let your eyes close. Today was the start of forever with the one and only Charles Weasley and here he was joking about his ultimate demise.

4. The perfect day

It's peculiar how life can just fall into place. Your odd little world of dragons and leaky apartment buildings just became the norm. You had come to love your work at the reserve, Dragons were actually incredibly cool up close. Not to mention getting to see Charlie work with them after years of never shutting up about them was truly a sight to behold. Every day, it was like taking an excited little boy to his first day of school. His eyes simply lit up whenever he was at work although it was hard explaining his injuries to the neighbours when they were being nosey. You also had to be careful when using magic since you were basically living with muggles and it would be a headache if they ever found out.

With your site blocked by a thin piece of fabric, Charlie guides you carefully forward with his hands skillfully placed upon your arms to steer. This was the first day off the two of you have shared in a long time. Little information was given about your destination other than it being a surprise. With Charlie that could mean just about anything which wasn't always a good thing but you trusted him enough to believe he wasn't leading you into a dragon's den or something. A gentle breeze nipped at the skin of your neck and the ground felt soft under your feet. The gentle singing of a symphony of birds filled the air and the sun beamed down with remarkable easy. All this suggested you were somewhere withdrawn in nature. Charlie had always been one for the great outdoors. There were countless times you had found him sneaking in or out of the forbidden forest back at school.

"Am I going to like this surprise?" You inquire; your anxiety building with each step. You would much prefer to simply know what was going on rather than experience some dramatic reveal especially today of all days. Every year the boy seems to forget that he agreed not to make a big deal.

"I sure hope so," You practically slam into him as she comes to an unexpected standstill. "Because I don't think I can return it."

"Return what? Oh god- can I take my blindfold off?"

As the flimsy fabric skims the length of your face to settle loosely around your neck, your eyes take a minute to adapt. You don't know quite what you were expecting but this was not it. Before you stands a small cottage surrounded by nothing but a wide-open field full of a rainbow of wildflowers. It was a beautiful little house with as much charm and beauty you'd expect from a place out in what seems like the middle of nowhere. It could be described as the perfect place to settle down.

"Surprise!" He was redder than a cherry tomato when he stepped into view. Both arms in the air as a sign of celebration but you were just rather... confused? Whose house was this and why had he brought you all the way out here?

"I don't get it?"

"We've been here for a while now so I thought we should get our own place or like, a better place. One where we don't have to worry about anyone else." His confidence appeared to develop with each word but his face was still powdered in a deep shade of pink. S this was your house? He'd decided to up and move without even consulting you? "So I got us a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. It kinda reminds me of the burrow only, y'know, smaller."

"It's ours?" His excitement is clear on his face and he quickly takes your hand. Pulling you along with him. "And that's not all."

"There's more?" Surely a whole house was enough. You were quite proud of Charlie for picking such a beautiful little place. Come summertime, you could already see yourself sitting among the flowers painting little pictures. You also wouldn't have to worry about muggles. Coming up on the front door, your boyfriend delivers you a little golden key. And with just a tiny degree of fear about what could be on the other side you unlock it. Much to your astonishment and disappointment, nothing is behind the door except the hallway leading inside. Charlie enters first and even as you follow, you half expect someone to jump out.

"I know I agreed not to make a big deal but how could I not?" He opens a door at the end of the hallway that leads to the kitchen. It's not a massive space but it's assuredly not small either, the whole place was already furnished but you recognise the surprise was truly what sat on the table. It was a two-tier cake covered in blue frosting including the words Happy Birthday scrawled across the top followed by your name.

"You... baked?"

"Mum sent it actually," Charlie chortled lightly as he wanders up behind you. Tossing a package of red with multicoloured polka-dots onto the table. "Sent this along too. Reckon it's a jumper or something."

"That was nice of her," You weren't sure of how to react to it all. Birthdays had never really been your thing but you appreciated that Mrs. Weasley had gone out of her way to make you something special.

"And from me..." He trails off and the sound of tiny tracks echo off the walls attended by an adorable yelp. Up to your feet slides an ash grey puppy who was more legs than anything else. It had bright blue eyes and floppy ears.

"You got me a dog?"

"I got us a dog- thought we needed a pet around here. I debated getting a crup but that'd be a disaster if your parents ever decide to visit." Crups were notorious for their dislike of muggles. You never understood why but he was right in his decision. The gesture was sweet but rather odd all things considered but still you smile. It was hard to be mad at something so cute and you weren't just talking about the dog. The puppy sits at your feet, wagging its little tail a mile a minute. There was no denying how adorable it was and at least it wasn't a dragon. Or a murtlap for that matter, those things were ugly. "You don't seem happy... do you not like him? I can take him back?" Kneeling, your hand drifts over the soft fur of the puppy's head. In response, the dog jumps up in an attempt to lick at your face. Your smile grows as you try to get away. "I think he likes you."

"What's his name?"

"Whatever you want? He's a Great Dane by the way." The puppy had calmed down a little and you stare as you ponder the perfect name for an ash grey Great Dane. "How about... Arlo?"

"Arlo?"

"Mhmm," You hum standing up straight. "And I'm plenty happy if not a little overwhelmed. You know how I feel when it comes to my birthday."

"I do," He nods casually. His palms snake around your waist drawing you flush against him "But I never want you to forget that someone cares about you- that I care about you so bloody much."

"I know you do," You give him a quick peck on the lips. "And I'm thankful for that and for all of this."

"Arlo is the perfect name, Happy Birthday" Your lips connect in a beautifully slow embrace that fills your body with warmth and as he pulls away, his forehead comes to rest against yours. The dog barking as it explores the kitchen. "I'm just so grateful that you decided to run away with me."

#Charlie Weasley x reader #Charlie Weasley #charlie weasley imagine #hogwarts mystery #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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