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cheralith · 10 months ago

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to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part iii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, unedited/not beta read as of 2/24

word count ; 8.5k

notes ; we're so back. am i severely late to posting this? very. did i at least get it done after too many months? also yes. i also apologize in advance to those i tagged that are no longer interested in the series, as i merely tagged people that had commented regardless of time. lmk if you no longer want to be tagged in the last part, i promise i won't take offense at all!

parts ; one two three four (tba)

THREE YEARS AGO

��My name is (Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Hara. Please let me assist you at any need possible.”

Miguel peered at you through his reading glasses, averting his attention from his laptop to fully examine the stranger that stood in his office. Dark hazelnut eyes scan the appearance of a young woman dressed in black slacks and an ironed white blouse standing stiffly next to his superiors that eyed him with more eagerness than he liked. He could already tell that you were a shy one, a person that wasn’t too accustomed to the outside world and its people; you stood with stiff posture; it was one that exemplified nerve rather than confidence from the way that you almost seem paralyzed in your place.

Caldworth, one of the superiors that stood by your side, placed a wrinkly and veiny hand on your shoulder and showed you off to him as if you were a painting up for bidding. “We choose a sharp one for you. (Y/N) here is rather attentive, so don’t be shy about letting her get to know you better, Miguel.”

Miguel stayed quiet, still skeptical about this sudden new arrangement for him that was brought up at the last minute. He lacked a certain sort of anticipation that would usually behold anyone else in his position—a new person entering their work life would usually be an exciting, rousing meeting seeing as how it would be a new addition to what the higher-ups would refer to as “family.” A loose term, Miguel often thought… very loose, even. To even have the courage to compare coworkers to something as intimate as family was something that didn’t sit well with Miguel. Blame it on the certain circumstances on his own familial life, but even anyone else that had their brain in the somewhat of the right spot would understand that mere coworkers were nothing compared to family.

At least in his case.

“I’ve greatly admired your work in the past,” you said almost robotically, “so I hope I can be of any help in your future accomplishments—no matter how big or small.”

Miguel cocked his head. He fought the urge to raise an eyebrow at what he began to concur was something scripted via his superiors. Something about your tone of voice seemed… flat; devoid of any actual enthusiasm.

Caldworth and his partner began to see themselves out, leaving him to babysit you. “Well, you two have at it! Maybe go out for a cup of coffee to familiarize yourselves, get to know each other better since you both are essentially going to be around each other all the time,” Caldworth stated, making Miguel twitch from the last part.

Just before they left, Caldworth offered the glint of his eye over his shoulder, the peek of a tight-lipped grin ever so slightly visible.

“And don’t forget, we’re all family here!” he cheered before the slam of a door shut you and Miguel in.

Immediately, Miugel noticed that your shoulders caved inward, indicating that you were finally able to breathe properly without the surveillance of people that were essentially in charge of your life. He eyed you again from the top of his glasses before he took them off and rested them in between his fingers, letting them dangle lazily.

“Did they tell you to say that?”

You jolted in your spot. Nerves seemingly reshocked with the same anxiety from before, you turned yourself to face your new boss again with a much more paled, yet evident expression—wide-eyed, pursed-lipped, gritted jaw—and swallowed thickly. Almost in a shameful manner, you silently nodded your head.

“W-was…” you started, “was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” Miguel murmured simply and closed his laptop. “Don’t listen to what they say, just make yourself as comfortable as possible. I’m sure neither of us want to be that comfortable with each other.”

Your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, hitching a sharp breath before it’s replaced with another stiff nod. There was no user’s manual of sorts that was given to you by your superiors. They merely told you to do exactly what Miguel needed, so if this is what he wanted—for you two to maintain distance—then so be it. If anything, it’s easier to breathe this way for both parties.

And it was like that for a rather long time; the both of you never came too close to the other person. It was strictly a professional workplace relationship, one that didn’t issue any room for intimacy because it wasn’t needed. There were no lunch or dinner get-togethers outside work hours, there was barely any small talk between you both, and you and he didn’t even bother getting each others’ personal numbers despite being consistently around the other like air—both parties thought the work phones were more than enough. There was no need for you to learn about his likes, his dislikes, his favorite foods, and Miguel couldn’t certainly be bothered with your own slices of life. To each their own, if you minded your business about him, he’d do the same to you.

It was a fair trade and a sufficient barter that satisfied you and him; there need not be any excess of the unnecessary.

That was, until a certain day that Miguel was held back during his usual hours to continue working on lab reports—work that didn’t allow him freedom from this hell of a company to see his own salvation.

“If it’s an urgent matter, Mr. O’Hara, I don’t mind taking on some of the workload,” you had said softly as you placed the last stack of packets on his desk that needed proper annotation. “I’m your assistant, after all. It’s my job to help you out.”

Miguel rubbed his forehead out of exhaustion and shook his head, “You’re my assistant from 9 to 5 only. I’m not gonna be like those shocking pricks and work you longer than needed,” he muttered and stretched out his neck, joints crackling. “Go clock out, (Y/N). I’m sure there’s someone waiting for you at home that needs attending to.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere had gone awkwardly quiet. The tension was only broken by the scritching of your shuffling feet before you coughed.

“Um, there’s no one in particular like that for me, unfortunately,” you whispered through a forced laugh that quickly dissolved. “So again, I don’t mind staying late…”

Miguel stiffened in his seat and mumbled an apology for his blatant inconsideration. Right… you were still rather young and didn’t seem the type to have a family yet. “No boyfriend? Or girlfriend… I’m not one to judge.”

“No, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No parents?”

“I moved out, so no.”

“Not even pets?”

“None.”

“... perhaps friends of sorts?”

“...”

Another sigh heaves itself from his aching lungs. What he’d do for a cigarette right now to kill this awkward tension. You were a rather shy person that isolated herself from most people, but Miguel didn’t think you’d detach yourself this much from the crowd.

You proposed your assistance once more, as third times always a charm. “Please let me assist you, Mr. O’Hara. I truly do not mind staying overtime if needed.”

Miguel, at first, thought you might be kissing his ass for a possible raise, but the thought quickly disappears when you genuinely appear concerned for his well-being given the fact he looked ultimately much more disgruntled than usual. Despite your timidity, you could be a stubborn one, so Miguel gave in before he tired himself even more with mild arguments that he was sure would drain whatever life he had left in him.

He inhales sharply and fiddles with his bag for a bit before he pulls out an array of keys, gently detaching a pair of them. One of them is his car key. The other—his house key.

“Take these,” he said and gestured them to you. “I’ve trusted you enough to drive my car on multiple occasions, so now I’m entrusting you to my daughter.”

Your eyes widened briefly, brows raising to new heights. Blinking in the alikeness of an owl, you repeated, “Your… your daughter?”

Miguel supposes this is what succumbs to him after not revealing even the most personal, yet basic parts of himself to a coworker. He hasn’t even revealed his birthday to you, let alone his family, so he can’t say he’s too surprised at your reaction.

“Yes, my daughter,” he repeats and starts scribbling on a post-it. “Her name is Gabriella, she just turned five and is in kindergarten. I’m gonna call up the daycare and tell them that you’ll be picking her up from school. After that, drop her off at the house and just… just kind of stay there until I come home. There should be leftovers in the fridge if she gets hungry. I’ll take a cab home… I dunno.”

Miguel sticks out the post-it note containing both the address of the daycare and his apartment number. With caution, you take and examine them closely with a mild surprise still on your face of the new information about your boss that you thought you should’ve learned a while ago. You begin to see yourself out of his office with an evident nervousness in your being before Miguel spontaneously gets up and grabs your wrist tightly, forcing you to look at him.

A chill goes down your spine when you see a menacing and unusual red glint in those pools of mahogany. His once-drained face is suddenly stony and rugged with his teeth bitten back to avoid any unnecessary threats. The physical contact makes your nerves go cold and paralyzes you into place to force you to stare into those eyes that you’re not sure aren’t even human, a sort of malicious crimson tint gleaming over brown hues.

“Do not… let anything happen to her,” he hisses under his breath, his tone jaggedly sharp, “Not a single scratch, yes?”

It takes a while for air to breathe itself back into your lungs, yet only a partial amount of it revives your body because all you can reply is a choked out,

“Yes.”

Miguel lets go of your wrist like it’s a heated iron rod, the burn of it stinging his hand with the aftertaste of your skin still damped on his palm. You quickly leave after that, leaving him to sigh and stare into nothing before clutching the picture frame of his daughter that sits on his desk—praying that you’ll live up to his expectations and arrive home to an unscathed Gabriella.

And throughout the duration of the three years you and Miguel have spent side by side, with each repeated question he’d contritely ask again and again, he did each and every single time you had to take care of her. The hours became longer, more strenuous, and created a blockage between Miguel and Gabriella that only you were able to bridge between. Gabriella—whose particular shyness reminded Miguel of a certain someone—eventually warmed up to you and began to treat you much more familiarly as time passed, growing accustomed to wrapping her body around your legs when she saw you during pick up and always asking what was for dinner that evening as if you’ve been there since her birth.

Gabriella grew very fond of you, Miguel noticed. There was some sort of mimicry in her actions at times that mirrored your own habits like how she’d tilt her head and purse her lips to the left when she was confused like you did or she’d randomly walk briskly in the same fashion you marched. She’d slip in a mention of your name during small discussions here and there, a praise never failing to tail her words.

“Miss. (Y/N) bought this headband for me! Isn’t it pretty?”

“Oh, Miss. (Y/N) taught me how to solve that problem yesterday.”

“Can you make cookies like how Miss. (Y/N) does? Yours taste weird.”

While you weren’t always present around the O’Haras, Gabriella made sure it seemed like you were.

There was a particular time that Miguel was helping her on some homework assigned over the weekend. The assignment had discussed different careers that children might be interested in the future and when Miguel had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, Gabriella, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven around the time, replied all too simply,

“I want to be like Miss. (Y/N).”

Miguel was astonished. He had expected an answer like a professional soccer player due to her love of the sport or a scientist like her father, but to aspire to be someone that seemingly was just an occasional companion? To him, it didn’t make sense.

“Like, do you wanna work for Daddy when you’re older?” Miguel asked, attempting to clarify what she meant since she knew enough to understand you were associated with her father.

Gabriella shook her head and mindlessly continued to draw what seemed to be a portrait of you in… a pink dress? “Nuh uh. I wanna be a princess like her.”

Through furrowed brows, Miguel chuckled a little aimlessly. Of course she’d still believe fantasy and magical things—she was just seven after all. Initially, he wanted to merely correct his daughter, but was a little curious as to what sort of silly information you had been feeding her. “Miss. (Y/N) is a princess?”

“Yep, she told me herself!” Gabriella exclaimed, her hand fisting a yellow marker that scribbled on a crown on the drawing. “She said she used to be a princess, but she ran away ‘cause a giant, fire-breathing lizard tried to kidnap her!”

“I think it might’ve been a dragon, mijita,” Miguel corrected gently, trying to go along with the usual trope fairy tales portrayed.

“Nuh uh, it was a big and creepy lizard, she said!” she retaliated stubbornly.

“Well,” he started again, attempting to choose his words a little more carefully this time around. “How come you don’t wanna be like Ariel? Or Tiana? They’re princesses, too, right?”

She shrugged. “I like them. But they’re not Miss. (Y/N).”

Something unnatural began to seep into Miguel’s chest. He knew that Gabriella liked you quite so, but he didn’t expect for her to almost admire you in such a fashion that inspired her to be like you. In his eyes, you were nothing but the assistant that loyally stood by his side and abided by his every word—to him, it seemed like you were more of a butler or servant than a princess.

But in his daughter’s eyes…

“Why? What’s so special about (Y/N)?” Miguel inquired with a growing curiosity to try and see you in the same light as Gabriella.

She shook her head, displeased with the informality given to you by her father. “You gotta say Princess (Y/N). I don’t have to ‘cause she said it’s okay.”

He sighed, “Okay, fine. What’s so special about Princess (Y/N)?”

Gabriella set her marker down carefully and thought for a little while. Her eyes suddenly lit up with delight, an affirmative grin set on her lips.

“Well, she’s really pretty… like reallyyy pretty. I wanna be just as beautiful as her one day,” she praised, making Miguel’s brows rise at the sudden compliment. “She’s really nice, too. She never shouts at me like the teachers or coaches do… and she always lets me have extra dessert when I do a good job on my homework.”

Miguel fell silent. Perhaps it was more than mere admiration, but idolization for Gabriella. She viewed you in a way that Miguel hadn’t even thought of because he only viewed you as his coworker. But in Gabriella’s eyes, you were more than just her babysitter—you were literal royalty to her. He shouldn’t be one to complain though—he’d take his daughter following in your footsteps over some others that might lead her astray. You were… sufficient enough, he supposes, even if Gabriella didn’t think so.

“She’s super smart too—like you, Papá! Maybe even smarter,” she retorts, making Miguel twitch. “And I like her voice a lot. I really like it when she reads me a story because her voice is pretty. Sometimes she sings this song to me to help me sleep.”

“Oh?” Miguel questioned, “¿Y, qué canción es esa?”

“I keep forgetting the name and words of it…” Gabriella pouted after a moment of attempted concentration. “But it went somethin’ like…”

She began humming an off-tune melody that struck a dissonant, yet familiar chord within Miguel, but it was impossible for him to find why it was so eerily familiar to him. Was it perhaps from an old song? Or a film he’d seen before? It was a calming song, one that was perfectly suited for a child’s lullaby, but something about it seemed almost so customary to him.

“Ya gotta marry her,” his daughter said plainly and began to resume her artistry, ignoring the sudden startle she gave her father. “So that way, I can become a princess, too.”

Miguel helped himself to the nearby cup of water to soothe his choked throat after the scare she gave him. “Sweetheart, I’m not a prince, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” his daughter replied without missing a beat. “But you know what you are, though?”

Dare he say that Gabriella had grown akin to you the same way she had with her father. Something about her praise and regard for you seemed to mirror the way that reflected alike to her father, yet Miguel couldn’t tell if she had managed to draw a line between the images of you and him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Gabriella could even define a difference in her adulation between you and him besides the fact one was her parent.

But when the thought of Gabriella potentially viewing you as sharing the same title as him—a parent—something seeds inside Miguel. He doesn’t know what it is or what it will grow into, but there’s one thing he knows for sure.

The seed of you in his life and hers is here to stay, whether he likes it or not.

Gabriella’s smile grew wide before she happily announced,

“You’re her knight in shining armor!"

PRESENT

If he squinted properly and took a closer look, perhaps Miguel could make himself hallucinate enough to try and visualize the golden chandelier above your head as your haloing tiara. It was the main light source nearly the entirety of the venue, but something about the way the light glistened around you made you seem almost holy, like you were a divinity gracing your presence on the wretchedness they called Earth.

Blame it on the wine, but Miguel couldn’t help but notice that you looked more celestial tonight; a unique sort of ethereal that he’s only seen in the finest of paintings. The banquet hall is covered in layers of silkened gold, only emphasizing your best features in the spotlights of reflecting amber.

You’re talking idly (per usual, unfortunately) with a coworker from Human Resources that he’s seen you often have mild conversations with on the weekly, a rare familiarity that he only knows he’s been graced with in full; so it’s truly no surprise that there’s a placid stir of envy growing within Miguel as you’ve decided to not give your semi-cold shoulder a break even tonight, even with the rarity of a compliment given by him. At least there’s been somewhat of an improvement—you’re actually holding miniscule conversations with him every now and then as you both chatter with the crowd as long as there’s a third party.

Yet he still hasn’t been granted mercy of having a proper one-on-one with you, yet.

But beggars can’t be choosers, so Miguel must make do with what he’s offered.

The coworker, finally, is called by one of his project managers and politely excuses himself, leaving you to Miguel’s devices at long last. Like a flower’s petals given little to no care, your smiling face wilts into the solemn countenance that Miguel has grown accustomed to seeing for the past week when you turn your gaze back towards the table, a sliver of Miguel caught in the corner of your eye. In time, he just barely catches a glimpse of your eyes flickering toward his figure before they return to stare at the nearly empty plate of food with a slight dismal.

A choice of what words to say jumble in his mouth. They toss and jump about while not giving him full comprehension of what they mean and Miguel grows frustrated at his lack of intelligibleness because it wasn’t every day that his resolve could be so cowardly in front of someone. Usually he was the one that made egos shrink, but upon your grace, his own could only grow so small.

You can tell there’s an awkward silence amongst you both despite the audible chatter throughout the banquet hall and the idle conversations among your tablemates, so you break it first but stiffly shuffling out your phone and dialing Gabriella’s babysitter for tonight—a blue moon occasion since neither you nor Miguel could be present. Gabriel is out of town and because there were only so many people in the world that Miguel could trust with his beloved, the elderly next-door-neighbor was the last resort.

“I should probably check up on how Mrs. Darcie is doing,” you splutter with a dry mouth. “I forgot to teach her how the TV remote works and I’m sure she must be bored out of her—”

Unconsciously, Miguel gently pries the phone out of your shaking hands, the connection between skin and skin electrifying his nerves more than he liked. He takes notice of the size difference between your hand and his own and eyes carefully at how easily your fingers would be able to slip into the gaps of his all too easily; like two connecting puzzle pieces.

He places it face down on the table to avoid further distractions. “I’m sure Mrs. Darcie is alright,” he attempts to soothe as he places his hand over your own, nearly caging it between his fingers. Miguel struggles with fighting the urge to squeeze it delicately—he doesn’t know if he’s earned that privilege, or if he ever did. “Gabi is most likely preparing for bed, we shouldn’t distract her.”

Eyes flickering toward your covered hand, the warmth that envelopes it from Miguel’s makes you swallow thickly.

“Ah,” you murmur and timidly pull back your hand to place back on your lap to Miguel’s disappointment. “Right… Never mind then.”

And suddenly, he’s back to square one. Silence plagues the air again between you and him, only this time, it’s thicker and grimier almost. Perhaps it was the oddity that was the physical contact that added to the musk of it; Miguel prays that you didn’t find it uncomfortable.

A fork is plucked between your fingers and you go to idly poke at your food to fidget with something other than your hands. “I hope she’s okay. Gabi, I mean. I-It feels a little odd leaving her with someone other than you.

Rays of hope and enthrallment embellish Miguel’s being from the fact that finally… finally you’re the one attempting a conversation with him after much too long. And not only that, you’re beginning with something bold, even if you don’t realize it. Despite the fact you’re rather unconscious of what you’re saying, something within Miguel perks up at the fact that you’re worried about Gabriella in the same sense… that he is.

That a parent is.

He fights the urge to physically shake his head to brush the thought off. Miguel hums, a semi-sorry attempt at being suede and casual. “Mrs. Darcie has had eight children in her lifetime, I’m sure that she’s definitely had her experience of taking care of kids,” he says seemingly nonchalantly. “Gabi, if anything, is lightwork to her.”

A soft delight pings in his chest again when you reply almost instantaneously, “She is indeed a good girl, very well-behaved.”

“She has her moments,” Miguel snorts, fondly remembering a few of younger Gabriella’s temper tantrums and outbursts of tears.

Something golden, something bright blossoms within him when he hears you let out a soft chuckle at his reply. It’s abrupt, but it’s short and sweet enough that he feels accomplished, enough for him to savor the taste of it. “All children do from time to time. But she’s definitely one of the better apples of the bunch.”

Miguel thinks you’re right; it wasn’t often that parents, new ones especially, were granted with the privilege of having obedient children, so he’s one of the lucky ones. Perhaps Gabriella being a good kid was the universe giving him mercy as a single parent, as society often thinks it takes two to tango when it comes to childcare most of the time.

But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Even if Miguel wasn’t aware of it, some of the responsibility was lifted off his shoulders when you entered the picture, as the duties of nurturing a young child were now in your favor the moment you had signed your work contract. For that, he harbors guilt from time to time when he thinks that you never exactly signed up to be a babysitter, let alone a parent figure to his kin that you were still unaware of.

And then it hits him.

It comes all of a sudden—his senses downpouring from the cloud of his daydreams and thoughts.

It’s not a good realization by far. If anything, it’s the very opposite, one that’s one the other end of the spectrum. It’s a deathly epiphany and one that he doesn’t like to acknowledge but is forced to.

Miguel stares blankly at the tablecloth, eyes droning into the satin folds of it as they mimicked the waves of a crashing ocean. A sort of paleness infects his face, the color of it draining slowly and he goes still when he feels his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

You’re quick to take notice of your boss’s current disposition, growing wary of his wide, blank eyes and gritted jaw, along with his knuckles growing white as they fist his slacks. A shallow breath is echoed from him; you furrow your brows.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you murmur, leaning toward his figure.

Miguel’s mind stirs. If Gabriella views you as a parent-figure, what exactly would you think of it? You’re not much younger than Miguel is, only falling behind a mere four or five years, but you’re still significantly young that you’ve got your whole life ahead of you that you’d need to experience by yourself. The remnants of youth are still planted onto you despite being well-adjusted to the adult world, so to put the responsibility of a child on your shoulders? Miguel feels contrition flood into him.

What if you didn’t even want children?

It’s a fact that you care for Gabriella, but do you harbor the same type of love for her that she has for you? Does she even understand what your role is in her life and that there’s a strict boundary between you and Miguel and Gabriella? He knows he can’t just shackle you onto a weighing responsibility, but when Gabriella is a part of this dilemma, the complication increases tenfold.

Your boss seems to be frozen in time, seeing as how not a muscle in his limbs nor his face were moving, but his eyes were wide open, almost glazed with fear. A feathery hand goes to place itself over his tightened fist before you ask again, “Mr. O’Hara, are you okay?”

The worst case scenario infects Miguel’s thoughts—you standing in the same shadow of his ex, exiting through the same door she had walked through just a few days after his daughter’s birth and breaking his entire being into little pathetic pieces.

This time, however? He wouldn’t be the only one with a shattered heart.

A thick swallow goes down your throat. You gently shake his hand with your own to attempt to break him out of his frigid state, a worry beginning to settle itself in your stomach. “Mr. O’Hara? Can you hear me?” you declare a little louder than the first two times.

Your voice makes him blink and he clears his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at the sudden loss of composure. “Yes, I-I’m fine…” he mutters as he tugs at the tight collar of his dress shirt.

You nod with visible skepticism. Miguel turns away from your gaze to avoid further questioning, since he knows you’ve been at his side long enough to know his behaviors. “Are you sure?”

He nods and stifles a sigh, nodding. The flurry of what had just occurred in his mind lingers almost painfully and it takes him a while to remember where he is and why. Right… the annual celebration gala… with you… to make up for the date that never happened.

His mind is a mess. It’s an incoherent tornado of everything and anything, with images of all kinds flashing throughout his mind—young Gabriella’s drawing of you and her as princesses that she insisted on framing, your face of disappointment that you gave him when he ditched out on the date, a flashback of his ex slamming his old apartment door on him as an infant Gabriella screamed and wailed in her crib, you hugging his daughter after her winning goal, Miguel’s frazzled self as he showed up too late to his daughter’s first Parents Day with a teary-eyed Gabriella, him finding you quietly reading a sleepy Gabi a bedtime story after a long shift at work, you making baked goods in the kitchen with her.. you tucking in her into bed… you suddenly with a suitcase in hand, a sobbing Gabriella in the back as Miguel begged you to stay before you slammed the door behind you and leaving them—

Miguel stands up abruptly, making you jump. The collar and tie around his neck suddenly seem too tight and his throat runs dry. The air grows hotter and his vision starts to blur.

“Mr. O’Hara,” you start as you also stand up, “Is everything alr—”

“I need some air,” Miguel barely chokes out before he leaves the banquet hall without another word. He can just barely hear you ask if there’s anything you could do before he turns a sharp right and leaves the entirety of the building altogether, choosing to remain in the back garden to breathe in fresh oxygen, a relieving chill to the air.

A hand goes to loosen his collar and tie and he can feel himself gain consciousness again. The sky is draped with an ink blue all over, speckles of the night stars scattering all around. The floral smell of many garden flowers fills his senses and Miguel grounds himself properly before he settles himself on a stone bench to balance in his mind.

He attempts to reason with himself.

Clearly, you don’t mind being with children, and obviously you don’t mind being with and taking care of Gabriella. She’s not simply a job to you that you’re forced to work with—you’ve said it yourself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t go to her games nor would you remember to bring her small gifts of her liking. You’ve done things for her out of your own initiative many times. Gabriella is your world, Miguel thinks, as much as your hers.

Now there’s the problem of you being with Miguel, if your feelings haven’t changed all too much. In all honesty, Miguel thinks if he’s with the right person, he’s sure to put in effort into stabilizing and nurturing a proper relationship. He hadn’t had the time to go around and look for love because of work and Gabriella, so serving as this sanctuary that came to him was basically a perfect fit into his life—don’t mind it took him three years to notice it. You’re worth putting that effort in.

Finally… there’s the possible chance that you reject Miguel’s proposal of being Gabriella’s secondary caretaker.

…

Miguel attempts to process it in a more… positive light. One that won’t send him spiraling.

But it’s nearly impossible.

How is it possible to settle a middle ground of happiness, or at the very least… satisfaction, between you and him and Gabriella? How do you imagine a happy ending to a dawning of Gabriella’s happiness? How can Miguel ever face you after asking such a thing?

His vision shakes again, another hurricane of impossible questions begins whirling in mind. The bile in his stomach churns uncomfortably and his hands grow clammy again. His feet feel like they’re sinking in the dirt. Somehow, even at a staggering height compared to most of his colleagues, Miguel feels small once more.

Would he be able to cope with such a—

A loud crash and multiple screams suddenly break Miguel out of his state and he whirls his head to see what was happening inside. The peek of something green slithers inside the massive hole in the glass ceiling indented in the building, and it doesn’t take Miguel long to know what’s happening.

He sprints back inside the building and into the banquet hall, the opposite way where everyone is headed and takes a swift peek inside to what was happening.

A horrifically large green lizard crawls on the floor, letting out an agonizing roar of sorts with its tail swishing about and knocking everything and everyone in its path over. Dr. Curtis Connors, the one foe Miguel had fought a few months ago and had just managed to escape his grasp, had come back for revenge in a newer, more improved, more terrifying form of his initial self-experiment. News of his identity had leaked out immediately the moment that he had defeated the mad doctor, and every work that was researched by him that was deemed irrelevant by Alchemax was unpublished and/or destroyed—that included raiding everything in his personal lab—an urgent executive order made by Tyler Stone himself.

Hungry for revenge for the destruction of his work, Miguel was certain he was back for revenge as back when he was still sane, the amount of research that Dr. Connors had put in was extensive and yielded long years in the making, spanning over nearly three decades of research that was wiped away in the matter of a single day thanks to Alchemax.

Miguel quickly turns a corner, hidden from the public eye, and commands his suit on before quickly re-entering the banquet hall. He swings up towards the domed ceiling and carefully analyzes the area.

There’s still a few people scattering from the room, shrieks echoing from the walls. His eyes go to search for where you are in desperation, praying you’re safe somewhere outside, but a flash of light pink catches the corner of his eye. He nearly snaps his neck when he finds you running in the opposite direction of where most people are headed—towards the garden.

“(Y/N)!” Miguel yells out without thinking and slaps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, you don’t hear him due to the commotion inside the area as you swim against the current of people. You fight the urge to fall down with every person that bumps into you amidst the chaos before you thankfully make it near the exit.

He lunges down from his spot on the ceiling, lassoing a few people that nearly get crushed under Lizard’s humongous tail and bringing them to safety properly on the way, making his way towards your figure. Rubble from the many columns begin to collapse on themselves; clouds of dust and debris fog the first floor of the hall with the wreckage already trapping some people inside.

A large chunk from the wall creaks and begins to teeter over the south exit, where you’re headed. A certain distraction diverts you from noticing the large cement framework around the exit that’s about to topple on you to Miguel’s horror. In the nick of time, he just barely manages to snatch you by the waist from a thrusted sprint just before the framework collapses with a thunderous boom.

You and Miguel cough from the dust it created. It takes a good second for you to process what your fate might’ve become, and it takes just another second for you to regain your consciousness. A good part of the exit is now blocked, but that doesn’t stop you from taking off your heels and attempting to climb over it.

Miguel barks out and grabs your arm that’s now scathed with slight scratches. “The hell are you doing?!” he exclaims worriedly.

You turn back with a teary and troubled look on your face, much to his shock. Abruptly, you turn back towards the exit and attempt to tug back your arm from his firm grasp. “M-my boss… he’s inside the garden,” you croak miserably out as you try to pull yourself over the fallen column. “I need t-to know if he’s safe…”

Lizard lets out another mighty howl and patters toward the stage, his tail once again swinging haughtily and ignoring anything in its path. Miguel shouts at you to duck and pulls you down along with him. You prop back up and without his arm on yours, you use it to your advantage and grunt yourself forward onto the column.

Miguel wraps a large hand over your ankle and weighs you down from moving any further. “Hey, you need to get out, now. You can’t be here, no one should be,” he urges.

The shake of your head concerns him—right, you’re too stubborn for your own good. “I’ll be fine. P-please, just leave me be.”

“Not when you’re about to get killed,” he declares and juts your ankle more towards him. The motion makes you fall into his chest and Miguel uses one hand to properly secure you to himself, the other launching and swinging a web to the north entrance.

You squirm and fight against him, pleading desperately for him to drop you and leave you alone. A frame of tears threatens to fall from your eyes from frustration and despair when you get put down. Miguel has to physically stop you from running back into the banquet hall once again—you put up a fight though. You thrash against him, clawing and weakly punching at his stronger arms, imploring for him to let you back inside.

“You don’t understand—” you gasp as the remnants of the people inside flood out. Looking over his shoulder, you gaze at the exit solemnly. “Please… I need to know if he’s alright—he h-has a young daughter back at home and if anything happens t-to him—just please let me go!” you wail.

He grabs you by the shoulders forcefully and settles you down, the stream of tears falling from your eyes running his throat dry once again. Miguel has never seen you cry, or even come close to crying. Not when Gabriella forced you to watch what she considered “one of the saddest movies in existence”, not when an entire glass beaker had toppled and its shards pierced your skin, not even when Miguel had first scolded you about your many mistakes on the very first document you turned into him.

Glassy eyes meet concerned, masked ones. Your lip trembled violently, the words all jumbled in your mouth about to spill. “Just let me check if he’s alright,” you just barely whisper.

He bores his gaze into yours as his composure does its best to upkeep him as best as possible. Miguel, from the inside of his mask, bites his lip and sighs. “I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

“What if you don’t?” you accuse with furrowed brows.

“I’ll bring him home safe and sound,” he says firmly. “You said he has a daughter, right? I won’t let her become an orphan. I swear on my life I won’t.”

Your gaze doesn’t falter, even when Miguel attempts to soothe you by chafing the chilled skin of your arms up and down in a calming manner. Unbeknownst to you, you and him share an image of Gabriella in your minds; it brings a sting of ache to your chests.

“How can I trust you?” you ask dryly.

“Because,” he goes to weave a string of webbing through the north entrance and takes you out into the safety of the outside. He settles you on the corner of two intersecting streets that sit nearby the building, with your tears still falling and hands trembling. A hand carefully holds your cheek and wipes away descending tears on your chalky face, Miguel ignoring the squeeze of his heart with each one that puddles on the sidewalk.

“... I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man leaves you on the sidewalk idly with the blurry figures of your co-workers and other people in the company whizzing by you with no concern for anyone else other than themselves. It takes a moment for you to understand what just happened and with whom, suddenly hit with the pang of realization that you had just met the Spider-Man: the well-known vigilante protecting Nueva York from all corners, beloved by the public. Excitement can’t seem to conjure itself within you, however, your gaze still lingering on the building that Miguel was possibly in.

A hesitant step takes you forward back to the building, but your phone vibrates abruptly from a notification from Mrs. Darcie. Word must’ve gotten out so quickly that it reached the O'Hara's neighborhood, as her text was asking if you and Miguel were alright. Your thumbs shake as you try and type up a response to let her know that you were at least alive, but you know that Gabriella wanted you both home.

The least you could do is make sure half of that concern was eased. You were counting on Spider-Man to do the rest.

With an arm reaching out for a taxi, you rush into one and tell the driver to step on the gas, promising to tip extra. You’d be willing to give all the money you had with you if it meant that you could be with Gabriella for tonight.

You’ve underestimated the nightly rush hour this Friday night had brought upon, because there’s a sea of cars that are equally as stuck as you are amidst the road. Tangible fingers go to grip your hair frustratingly, and asking the driver to go any further was basically useless. Each minute you wasted on the same road you had been on for what was nearing twenty minutes made you more anxious by the minute.

“I-isn’t there some sort of shortcut?” you ask the driver hoarsely. “I don’t care what roads you have to take, just please get off this one. I’m begging you. I have a child that’s waiting for me.”

His eyes give you a quick glance in the mirror, and empathy embeds itself in his equally tired eyes. He must be a father himself, you think, as he gives you an affirmative nod and swings off the road onto a much more bumpy and gravelly, but visibly less dense one.

It’s nearly an agonizing hour later off the road—it would’ve most likely reached around two or even three if you stayed on the main road—but you thankfully make it to the O’Hara’s residence. Your body moves on its own, flying out the elevator and speeding down the floor of the apartment. You burst open the door, visible sweat misted on your forehead and an ache to your limbs but all that is ignored when Mrs. Darcie greets you with relief, with a sleeping Gabriella settled soundly on the couch as her favorite TV show buzzes in the background.

She grasps you tightly by the arms. “My goodness, thank heavens you’re alright,” she murmurs quietly. “That must’ve been quite a scare… are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” you gasp out tiredly. “But how is she? Gabi, I mean… d-does she—”

Mrs. Darcie shakes her head. “She fell asleep a while ago, she doesn’t know. I just managed to get informed thanks to my son who works near the building. But where is Miguel?”

Dread floods your face once more, remembering why you left the banquet in the first place. Somehow, however, your phone vibrates and receives a text from the one and only. A loud sigh escapes your lips and you crumple to the floor as the feeling returns to your numb legs as Miguel’s texts ease your worries.

Hey I’m alive and alright. I saw you leave earlier, hope you’re safe. I’m omw home.

You fight the urge to burst into tears from the relief as Mrs. Darcie helps you back up. “I’m assuming that’s him,” she says gently as she encourages you to take off your heels. “What a waste of night and beautiful dress. Shame that blasted giant iguana or something had to ruin it.”

A broken laugh leaves you from her gentle humor. You glance down at the dress that the mysterious Lyla had given you tonight and sigh sadly at the many tears of the tulle and fabric. The dress looked expensive and you planned on wearing it again for formal events, but alas, fate has decided to toy with you.

“That’s alright,” you mutter as you help Mrs. Darcie gather her stuff back up so she can finally leave. “I have plenty of others to use in the meantime.”

The elderly woman leaves you inside their apartment after bidding you a goodnight to tend to Gabriella, who’s still sound asleep and oblivious to what was happening to the world and people around her. That’s a good thing, at least, you think to yourself as you tidy up the living room around her quietly. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes.

She’s still small enough that you’re able to carry her to her room even at her age and it reminds you a lot of when she was younger, when she’d pretend to be asleep so you could carry her yourself to go back to her room. Nowadays, she knows her bedtime and does it by herself, but assuming she had been waiting for you or Miguel to come home, sleep had snuck onto her as she waited and waited.

You put her down gently, hoping not to get any of the leftover debris on your soiled clothes onto her freshly-washed body. The action just barely stirs her awake, her eyes slitting open at the slightest bit. Your blurry figure just barely makes it to her senses and she grins sleepily.

A titter escapes her lips. “You look like a…” Gabriella starts, her words faltering due to a fading consciousness.

“Like a…?” you whisper softly, a hand stroking her hair gently.

“Like a…” you can tell she’s trying to find the words in her very limited vocabulary currently, her brain threatening to shut off at any second now. “Like a princess, I think?”

You raise your brows at her description as Gabriella immediately falls back asleep. You suppose you do look much more dressed up from usual, but your cheeks tingle a hint of warmth at the comparison of literal royalty. You blame it on the drowsiness.

Your own tiredness begins to crawl up your spine as you stay by Gabriella’s side in her darkened bedroom, her quiet breaths soothing you like a lullaby. With heavy eyelids threatening to shut close at any minute, you fight the urge to give into the Sandman, insistent on Miguel’s return.

Miguel…

His name rings aloud in your mind for a moment.

Miguel…

“I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

Spider-Man’s familiar voice suddenly jolts you awake. Your brows crunch together. How on earth did Spider-Man know Miguel’s name when you merely referred to him as your boss? Perhaps he saw Miguel in the garden beforehand? Maybe Miguel had an earlier oncoming with him from before and Spider-Man just knew him from that one incident? Or… he just happens to know the names of all the citizens of Nueva York because… that’s just how Spider-Man is?

Or, was Miguel actually Spid—you shake your head in the same second you think of such a stupid reasoning. That’s impossible…

… you know in your heart that it just is.

Any reason that you attempt to give, you think of it as either obnoxious or just simply impossible. Maybe you did let it slip that your boss’s name was Miguel… that just seems like the most plausible reason. After all, your adrenaline was at an all-time high and you could barely remember what had happened before the takeover, let alone the conversations you had.

Whatever it was, it was going to bring Miguel back home, and that’s what ultimately had mattered in the end. It probably wasn’t even your business to prod around.

At Gabriella’s visible sleeping state, you stand up and start to head towards the bathroom to fix yourself up, but the sound of the master bedroom’s window suddenly shuffling open makes your nerves electrify. Miguel’s bedroom sat just right next to Gabriella’s, and it was also the bedroom that was nearest to the complex’s fire escape, so a break-in at this time of night was highly plausible.

Grabbing one of the displayed metal baseball bats on the wall, you turn off Gabriella’s lights and lock the door behind, ensuring her safety first before yours. You’re careful to tiptoe around the more creaky parts of the floorboards, desperate to make yourself not seen by the intruder as you step closer and closer to Miguel’s bedroom. The door is just barely ajar, and the lights are on. A distinct shuffling, bed springs, and a masculine groan echo from the crack of the doorway and when all is silent from the other side of the door, you make your move and burst in, ready to swing at whoever threatens the O’Hara residence.

The bat is suddenly grabbed from your hands from a familiar neon orange webbing and thrusted to the side of the room, where it thunks against the wall and falls limply. You gasp aloud and with nothing to defend yourself with, you look up with fear in your eyes that suddenly turn to shock from the sight in front of you.

There, standing in the same blue and red vinyl suit you had crossed paths with earlier, without its mask completing the look… and thus, exposing the face of the man you had been waiting for to come back home to you.

a/n ; second to last part to this mini-series and once again, i apologize for this nearly six-month delay, last semester was rough for uni. almost made this into two parts, but i felt like they just belonged together and i quite like the blend of them together.

thanks for the patience for those who stuck around and have waited far too long for this, you deserve this! i'm glad to see you all again <3 thank you endlessly for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and appreciated (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @raeisthebae @mvchmp @um-well @nintendh-e @eddieslooneymoonie @deputy-videogamer @xochyw @honeybeeznuts @aspens-cove @btszn @scaleniusrm @goldenpoison @the-pan-liquid (if you'd like to be either added or removed from the taglist, please lmk! i know it's been awhile, so hi again haha)

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader #fem!y/n

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fanatic-writers · 1 year ago

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Adventures in Baby Sitting

Chapter Three: Shipwreck

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A/n: Chapter 3 and I haven't given up on this series yet! I'm so glad yall are enjoying it as much as I am. If there is anything you want to see from this series in the future, any headcanons you have for Mando, or anything at all really feel free to lmk and I'll do my best to incorporate it.

Word Count: 2456

Pairing: (Eventual) Din Djarin x Mandalorian!Reader

Warnings: Canon levels of violence but it's very tame, unedited like everything cause I'm lazy lol (this one may be more egregious than others...)

Summary: Reader is the Armorer's daughter and is also a foundling. She and Din have known each other for a long time but he was never quite able to break his shell. When the Mandalorians help Din escape with the child she is ordered to go to his ship to help him care for the thing.

Tag List: @theclassicvinyldragon @yeeteth-the-raven

You held on tightly to the child as Din swerved between shots, the already rocky situation was only made worse by some of the shots actually hitting their target. You mumbled words of safety to the child, although they were more for you than him. You heard the voice of the bounty hunter over the ship’s coms, he was asking for the child and you gritted your teeth. At this rate, he’d kill you all before getting his hands on the bounty. Alarms blared in your ears and Din gave you little warning before he rolled the ship over itself. You felt yourself getting lightheaded as the ship turned you on your head and then back around again. Just keep a hold of the kid, you reminded yourself as your stomach quite literally turned. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” The words didn’t even register in your mind before you were jolted forward by Din hitting the brakes. You didn’t even realize the small yelp you let out at the sudden movement, your arms holding the child tighter in your lap. “That’s my line.” You heard Din say before blasting the ship to oblivion.

The alarms continued to go off before the ship went dark. In that moment everything caught up with you and you couldn’t help the stifled laugh that broke its way through your modulator. “You think this is funny?” He turned to look at you. His tone wasn’t harsh, instead, he seemed genuinely curious. Your helm turned in his direction, your body still shaking with laughter a bit. “You don’t really say that do you?” You watched as his head tilted to the side, questioning what you meant. “That’s my line?” You repeated, your voice dropping a bit to try and mimic his. He just shook his head in response. “Oh, my maker you actually do.” You’re body shook with laughter again, your brain would much rather focus on Din’s silly catchphrase than the fact that you were at the brink of death, or something close to it, a moment ago. “I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold.” You mimicked him again. “Alright, that’s enough.” He sighed, turning away from you in hopes that it wouldn’t seem like he was encouraging you with his attention. “It’s not a bad catchphrase.” You hummed in approval. “It’s not a catchphrase.” He contested “You say it whenever you gotta bring someone in, right?” Your question was met with silence on his end. “That’s what we call a catchphrase Little Bug.” You looked down at the kid in your lap who giggled at your comment. As you were speaking to the kid you noticed Din flipping some switches, the ship eventually coming back to life. It wasn’t long after that the ship was landing in its assigned spot. While he was landing you cradled the child in your arms, watching as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Setting him down in the single bunk on the ship you joined Mando as he began to walk out of the Razor Crest. You jumped slightly as he shot at the droids that sprang into action upon your arrival. “Still hate droids.” You mumbled, a woman screaming at the two of you drawing out your words. You watched as she looked over the damage, standing slightly behind the Mando. After the two spoke you left with him. “You’re sure you don’t want me to stay back with the kid?” You asked as you walked through the town. The Mandalorian shook his head. “I need you to get a few things while I work on finding a way to get the rest of the money we owe.” You nodded with a small sigh before he handed you a small satchel of coins, splitting off from him after he had done so.

You got the standard supplies, focusing on food for the three of you and scrounging up some spare parts for the ship. When you came back to the hanger you had your arms full. You nearly dropped everything when you spotted the child sitting with the droids and the mechanic. She shouted something about leaving him alone as you quickly dropped off the things you’d bought. “I told him I should’ve stayed behind.” You muttered as you took the kid in your arms. “So, what is it?” The woman asked. You shrugged “Our responsibility, a pain in the ass.” She could hear the smile in your voice as you wiggled a finger in front of the child’s face and he reached out for it, happily taking in his smaller hand. “You wanna come inside?” She offered and you obliged. The two of you talked about the ship and the kid, you learned her name was Peli. She got you some of the food she’d fed the kid and took him to the front room while you ate. You took your time with the meal, enjoying your private time more than actually eating. It was the commotion up front that caused you to put your helm back on and leave your little fantasy world behind.

“Woah, Mando, it's alright. She was just watching him while I ate something.” You assured him, stepping between the two as he demanded the child. After she chastised your parenting skills, she gave the kid to you and you passed him to Din for a moment. As you joined him and Peli outside you noticed a guy standing by two speeders. You looked between the guy, the bikes, and then Mando who was already giving the kid back to Peli. “There’s only two bikes.” You frowned, stepping closer to the Mandalorian. “You’re staying here. I don’t need to give her another reason to charge us more.” Mando responded and you sighed. You understood his reasoning, but you were worried about him. The two of you had spent a lot of time together whether either of you liked it or not and you’d started to grow attached once again. “K’oyacyi,” You sighed, making him promise you a safe return. He opted for a nod in response and you couldn’t help but suck in a breath as he sped off without even saying goodbye or explaining what the hell he was doing. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” Peli sighed as she looked at you and then made her way back inside.

“I can’t tell you Peli, he would kill me.” You laughed, trying to steady yourself as you held the light for her. “Oh come on, one little story isn’t going to hurt anyone.” Peli tried to coax you into talking. “It would hurt his pride. How is he supposed to be the big bad Mandalorian if people know how he was as a kid.” You countered. “We both know you’ll tell everyone the chance you get to.” “I will not.” She promised but you both knew better. The kid cooed at your feet, holding up a bolt. “What a good little helper.” Peli practically cooed. “You should take him out to the dunes. I’ll give you a scrap of metal, he’d probably enjoy some sledding.” You shook your head in response “I’m not a huge fan of sand.” You admitted “Plus it's not safe for him to be out there. Not with just me and a large open area.” Peli took the bolt from the kid and put it in its place as you handed her the tools she needed. “What is he some sort of wanted criminal?” She huffed as she tightened the bolt. “Something like that.” You retorted and watched as Peli stopped her work. “Well, you gotta tell me that story.” She spoke as she sat up from her spot. “There’s not much to tell. I don’t know why but the kid has a bounty on his head. Mando took him in, realized he was just a kid, and took him back. We’re just trying to avoid hunters now, maybe find a spot to lay low if we’re lucky.” You explained. “So you’re his partner or something?” Peli asked as she went back to work. You shook your head “I’m just following orders from my clan. Mando and I haven’t been that close since we were kids.”

Peli had stopped to take a dinner break and play a round of cards with the droids, the kid was down for the night, and that left you alone with your thoughts once again. You sighed and leaned back in your seat, your helm beside you, back to the door in case someone interrupted you. Peli had known to knock but you liked to be on the safe side. Your eyes drifted closed as your thoughts drifted off to Din. You didn’t know the kind of job he’d taken but you expected him back by now. The suns were starting to set, and you were getting worried. You had half a mind to get a bike from someone and ride off into the dunes, but you had no way of knowing what way they went. Without any sense of direction, you knew you’d get lost in the landscape of sand. You hadn’t realized it but at some point, you’d drifted off into sleep. In your dreams, you felt the hot suns of Tatooine beating on your face. Your helm had been discarded somewhere but you didn’t care. It was just you and Din, your head lazily rolling to the side to smile at him. His face was foggy, but you knew it was him, recognized the small details you remembered from when you were children. You remembered the tan of his skin, the deep brown of his eyes, eyes you imagined you could easily get lost in if he’d only let you see them once more. “What are you staring at?” He hummed, his voice clear without the addition of his modulator. “You.” You smirked, turning your head back up to look at the sky. “To be fair there isn’t much else to look at around here.” You teased as you sat up. For the moment you weren’t worried about the sand that would get caught in your hair and find its way into every nook and cranny of your armor. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you were wearing your beskar or if you were in plain clothes. None of that really mattered with the way Din was looking at you, a huffed laugh sounding like music to your ears. You turned back to look at him, he’d propped himself up on his elbows. “C’mere,” He murmured, and you leaned down, your arms caging him in. You felt your nose brush against his, your eyes fluttering closed.

You jolted awake to the sound of three loud bangs at the door. You slipped your helm on and for a moment you swore you could still feel Din’s breath ghosting across your face. Peli’s face greeted you with frightened eyes you weren’t aware she was capable of. She passed the child into your arms in a bundle of cloth before the same guy from earlier turned the corner into the room. “If he isn’t special then why does it take two of you to protect him.” He raised a brow and you felt anger begin to bubble in your stomach at his arrogance. “Two of you as in me and Peli or two Mandalorians?” You hummed holding the child in one hand as your other reached for your blaster. “Are you looking for this?” He hummed as he held the weapon in his hands, pointing it at you and the kid. “Thought a Mandalorian would take better care of where they left their toys, especially with the little guy running around.” As he spoke, he stalked towards you and Peli. You could hear the rattle of the terrified droids in the corned as he took the child from your arms. He pointed the blaster at the kid, and you froze. “Now you two are going to do what I say, or I ice the kid. Got it?” Peli answered for you, and you nodded, words unable to escape your mouth. Well, at least not ones that would help the situation. He guided you both to the hull of the Razor Crest, the blaster pushed into Peli’s back as the four of you waited for the Mandalorian’s return.

You were forced to stand by the man and watch as he had Peli cuff Mando. You were grateful for the helm that covered your face because you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his little speech. A bright white took over your vision and thankfully your visor adapted to it. While the man was blinded you were able to snatch the kid from his hands and jump off the ramp to the ship. You quickly ducked under the platform and squeezed yourself back as far as you could, keeping the child close to you. You cradled his head into your chest until the blasters stopped, setting him down to catch your breath. You hadn’t really registered that Mando and Peli would be looking for the kid until you watched a familiar set of hands pick him up. You move from your hiding spot, walking over to the body that Mando was taking a satchel of coins from. You watched as he dumped everything from the satchel into her hand before following him back into the Razor Crest.

You had just put the child down in his makeshift bed, the excitement of the early morning seeming to knock him out. You settled into your seat, relishing in the peace of the moment compared to the chaos that you had left behind on Tatooine. “Why’s you call me Mando?” Din asked seemingly from nowhere. “What do you mean?” You knew his whole thing as a bounty hunter was anonymity. “Back with Peli-“ He started “Yeah I know when it happened Mando I was there.” You teased. Din turned the chair and looked at you “You did it again.” He pointed out. “I dunno, your whole persona as a bounty hunter is anonymity and mysterious guy behind the mask.” You’d never seen him work but his reputation had gotten around, especially within the community. “I mean sure I know your name, but it doesn’t feel right to say it.” Din frowned under his helm, and you almost thought you saw him deflate a little. “Do you want me to use your name?” You asked, your voice barely coming through your modulator. “We were friends once.” He responded, his voice matching yours in tone. “I wouldn’t be upset if you did use it.”

#din djarin x you #din djarin/you #din x reader #din djarin x reader #din x you #din/you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #din djarin fanfic #star wars fanfic #mandalorian/you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic #pedro pascal #star wars

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babiebom · 8 months ago

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Ranking the relationships in my fics

A/N: I have so many requests right now and no time to do them and I’m kinda burnt out on the one I’m doing so here’s something easy for right now :) both platonic and romantic as long as it’s a main relationship also half of these Fics have been either deleted or never posted but might be in the future!! I will include links to those posted :)

Tw:some nsfw? Some cursing, some angst, mentions of murder and suicide mentions of abuse (physical mental verbal) lmk if I should tag anything else!!

Bc at least 4 for each pairing

Misc Masterlist

1) Denali x Naomi (Escape the Fog)

From a deleted fic that I am currently rewriting its a dead by daylight fic with two original main characters

The reason this is number one is because out of all of the relationships this is the one that is strictly platonic

Like yeah romantic relationships aren’t bad but

Out of all the relationships this one is the most demanding and pure

I mean not to spoil but Naomi is literally taken to the Entity’s realm and Denali is taken there simply because her need to find her friend is so strong!!!!

Like she doesn’t care that she’s being killed every single day

She’s just happy that she’s found her friend that went missing

And loves her friend so much that she’s willing to be permakilled to get her back home

2) Sebastian x Reader (When You Fall)

From When You Fall which is a Stardew Valley fanfiction

The least toxic out of the romantic relationships

And by least toxic I don’t think they’re toxic at all

Like even if there’s a little angst (there’s gonna be a little angst btw) they’re a strong couple

Actually makes each other better rather than making each other worse.

They love each other for who they are including all of their flaws and they would be number one if Denali and Naomi didn’t have a relationship that goes above and beyond.

Like what kind of person would help you through your depression?

A person that loves you that’s who.

Like 80 years from now the two will be old and grey and still acting as if they’re in the honeymoon phase

3) Eden x Eleventh Doctor (The Garden of Eden)

From an unpublished Doctor who fanfiction that I am in the process of writing

Here is where we’re getting into the ohhhh this relationship is kinda toxic really

And it’s a shame they’re number THREE on the list lmao what does that say about my writing?

They are constantly arguing (90 percent not in a serious way)

And Eden sort of sees the Doctor as a God due to how they met which puts him on a pedestal

BUT the relationship doesn’t start off romantic which I think is healthy for them

And they are both fiercely protective of one another due to how long she’s spent traveling with him

So while she does see him as a God it isn’t in a very obvious or serious way unless you can see inside of her head as she doesn’t treat him as such at all.

Also a very goofy relationship overall

4) Grace x Seth Clearwater (unnamed fic)

It’s an unwritten and unnamed Twilight Fic that I might post when I’m done with the whole thing lmao

The only reason they’re number four is that I think that him imprinting on her is taking away his choice

Like yes they would probably still end up together regardless of if he had the ability to imprint or not because they’re soulmates

But him having the trait does take away the ability to actually choose

Like it’s literally a one look and that’s it thing. It forces you to live someone platonically or not so he doesn’t have a say in the matter

BUT the two do genuinely love each other so so so much that after their angst is done they’re inseparable

Which again sorta toxic when it’s a codependent relationship but they actually RARELY argue

Seth is actually so sweet that again after the angst is done they might have an argument once every like 5 years.

5)Quinn x Spencer Reid (Baby Blue)

From my Criminal minds fic that is currently posted on ao3 that I am debating on posting here.

Actually they argue so often

If he hadn’t have gotten her pregnant in a one night stand they would have still met and would have a love hate relationship

Like without the baby they would be an enemies to lovers trope but instead he immediately and accidentally got her pregnant so now they’re stuck with each other

Do genuinely love each other and after they finally figure out that they have feelings for each other everything calms down

But with her being pregnant and them not being in a relationship and then the jealousy and miscommunication everything is just toxic

Like could they tell each other that they accidentally fell in love with the other and they wanna try to have a relationship?

Yes.

Will they?

No.

But again after the drama they’re actually a very affectionate couple that manages to keep their passion into their old age

6) Ashanti x Cárter Walsh-Kim (unnamed fic)

From my deleted twilight fic

While he isn’t a main main character he serves to be the Jacob of the plot but they actually date and he doesn’t force himself on her or fall in love with her future child :)

They’re a healthy college age couple?

Kinda boring but not toxic at all until Emmett enters the mix

They’re stable and comfortable and honestly would be endgame if it wasn’t for Emmett

She loved him and he loved her not much else to say. They’re low because they break up lmao

7) Ashanti x Emmett Cullen (unnamed fic)

From the same deleted fic as above I might rewrite and repost

toxic because they can’t figure out if they wanna be together or not

Like actually they have a really good relationship when they’re not arguing and he’s being a wannabe Edward with his angst

Like when they’re not fighting a great comedic duo

And he’s her biggest supporter and she’s his.

And while I know I just compared him to Edward they don’t have the whole turn me I don’t wanna turn you drama like it’s a very easy discussion and decision

He’s literally just hung up on Rosalie and that’s where the drama comes from

And the arguing kinda makes some of his old human traits reappear

8) Fawn x Johnny Slaughter (Accidental Prey)

A Texas chainsaw massacre fanfiction that isn’t finished

Would be lower because he’s actually a murder and is keeping her hostage????????????

Like he’s forcing her to live with his murderous cannibalistic family

And he kinda abusive

But he’s genuinely in love with her (more like obsessed)

And hes the only reason that she’s alive

I can’t spoil the end but dude LOVES her more than Johnny in my other fanfics loves their partner more than just being possessive and obsessive

9) Bucky Barnes x Reader (Mr.Right)

From a deleted marvel fic that I haven’t finished and probably won’t until I get the urge

These two just absolutely JUMPED into a relationship without thinking about it

And tbh idk if they’ll last or not but they do currently love each other

It’s super middle/high school vibes but they do have a good relationship

He’s an assassin though

And has gotten them almost killed

And has taught them how to murder people

And is actually kinda a fucked up guy AND relationship because they kinda lose their mind.

10) Evangeline x Danny Johnson (Between a Rock and a Hard Place)

My dead by daylight x Texas chainsaw massacre fic that only has like a single chapter posted

Is higher than Johnny because he isn’t physically abusive like Johnny is

But still low because he’s actually insane

Is a serial killer but isn’t a cannibal

Is obsessed with her and probably wouldn’t kill her

Loves her I guess if obsession counts lmao

Is willing to take care and love a child that isn’t his if she chooses him

11) Evangeline x Johnny Slaughter (Between a Rock and a Hard Place)

From the same fic as above

Physically, Emotionally, and Verbally abusive

And while you’re thinking IM HOW IS HE NOT LAST

He did leave his family to go find her and does somehow love her that he hasn’t murdered her yet

And even though he threatens to kill her he never actually would unless he has a breakdown and kills her and himself

12) Corinne x Johnny Slaughter (unnamed fic)

From an unnamed unfinished unpublished Texas chainsaw massacre fic that will be posted when I’m done with all three chapters

Actually one of the WORST relationships and probably should be last

But the reason why it isn’t is because Corinne is no longer stuck with him

He physically, verbally, and emotionally abused her

Forced her to kill their child because the police were close to catching them and a child would slow them down

Constantly cheated on her with victims after he kidnapped her and forced her to live with him and his family

He doesn’t really love her (he thinks he does) he really just sees her as a possession.

13) Peter Parker x Reader (the Beauty of You)

A marvel fanfic that I deleted that is a You AU so Peter is in the role of Joe lmao

While he isn’t abusive he is VERY manipulative which is mentally abusive

Has murdered people to get to Reader

Has threatened to kill them

They’re lower than Corinne because Reader is stuck with him like until they die

Isolates them from literally everyone and uses his powers to keep them isolated and needing him

Loves them I guess lmao

14) Rasmodius x Reader (the Wizard and I)

From the stardew valley oneshot

Reader is also stuck with him for life

And this relationship is kinda romantic but the reader is being held hostage as some sort of slave

Like dude doesn’t actually love her just wants to keep his place

Like they’re literally his pet and is stuck like this

And unlike the other bad guys he literally has the ability to make them immortal

Like there’s no love at all, Reader is just possessed/enchanted to be okay with this.

Like their choice was no but this is still how they ended up unfortunately

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lysa1201-saucy · 2 years ago

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Don’t Read A Book In Abyssal At 3 AM! (Not Clickbait)(Emotional)(Gone Sexual) - Lucifer x F!Reader (Part 5)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Read Chapters Early on my Patreon!! Chapter 6 is currently up! Also includes NSFW art uncensored!! <;33

Lmk if you wanna be added to the tag list!! Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments appreciated!

This story will contain sexual themes and smut in the future, which is why it is being posted onto my 18+ account rather than my SFW account. Thank you <33

Genre: Comedy, Romance (Fluff + Smut), Angst

Warnings: None (that I know of, lmk if there is thanks)

Word Count: 1614

++++

“Can we take a break day? Please?” You pleaded, passing puppy dog eyes to Lucifer, who stood at the foot of your bed. “I feel horrible today,” You added, sniffling.

Lucifer stood over you, waking you up. He wanted to get to work, but you never left your room, so he went to grab you. When he saw you lying in bed still, looking pale and sweaty, he could tell you were sick immediately. Why did you look so cute, though? Asking for permission to take a break, seeming so innocent, and he couldn’t get enough of it. Fuck, you made his heart flutter so much.

Ever since he saw your dating profile, he had been paying more attention to you. The way you did things, said things, and acted. Finally, after two weeks of observation, you were all occupied in his mind. Although, you couldn’t deny that he occupied your mind.

You noticed that Lucifer seemed to appreciate you more and loved asking about you whenever you had a break, even if they were rare. Lucifer looked at you more, his gaze longer than usual. You liked his glances more than you would like to admit.

A fictional character you once fantasized about was staring at you, asking about you, appreciating you, and holy shit did it make you feel some way? Of course, he wasn’t your favorite in the game, but you couldn’t deny that you didn’t believe he was hot as fuck.

He sighed. How could he tell you no? He didn’t want to show that he felt many butterflies from how you looked at him and instead chose to act rather annoyed. “Fine, but once you get better, we’re going to have to do double the work if I’m going to get home soon,”

You coughed and passed a slight grin, “Thank you, Lucifer.”

You rolled over to your lay on your side and tightly snuggled into your covers for warmth. Lucifer was incredibly close to just offering you to cuddle him, but he knew that would be a terrible mistake.

Lucifer wanted to convince himself that this was just some form of lust. He couldn’t like you; it would be wrong. Moreover, he would lose his sense of pride if he fell for a human, especially one he would be leaving soon and never return to see again. Part of him believed that if you let him fuck you, he’d stop having you be the only thing in his mind. It’s happened before, so obviously, this would be the same, right?

At that moment, when he left your room, he decided to try to make that a goal of his. Fuck you to forget you. Make it clear to you that he’s only interested in a one-night stand, fuck your brains out, then pretend it didn’t happen. It’s worked before; it would work again.

Why was he so nervous? Why was he so anxious to make that move? It’s not like you would reject him. He was one of your “demon boyfriends,” after all. He needed to suck it up and find the time. The feelings were lust, it was nothing more, and it never could be.

“Lucifer!” He heard your hoarse voice call out to him. He stood up from the couch and walked into your room. “Can I ask you a favor?”

Lucifer sighed, something he did a lot. “What is it?”

“Can you get me a glass of water and some painkillers? I’m not feeling any better,” You asked him. You just looked so sad and helpless; all he wanted to do was hold you and kiss the pain away. Stop being so fucking adorable. It’s rude.

Lucifer refused to say a word as he knew if he did, you’d notice how much you were affecting him, and Lucifer could not have you see what he felt. He would be embarrassed and lose every sense of pride he had if you noticed.

He walked to find painkillers for you and got you a glass of water. He liked the idea of taking care of you. You depended on him; you were asking him for help. Was he feeling soft and cuddly for you, or was his dick hard? He couldn’t figure it out, but he knew the reason was you.

He needed to fuck you fast if he wanted these thoughts to stop taking over him. Lucifer knew deep down that doing so wasn’t the best idea, but he was sure that if he just told you that it would be a one-night stand and it would mean absolutely nothing, you two would remain okay with each other, right? Because unfortunately, he did need to stay with you. Without you, he wouldn’t have a place to stay, sleep, or eat. Also, he had no money, no way of communication, and he needed your ID to get him the books he needed to figure out how to get back home. So if he made it clear that it means nothing and he just is horny as fuck and needs to get you out of his head, you’re sure to understand, right?

Lucifer returned to your room with your painkillers and water. You looked awful. Well, physically in you’re sick way. But you were still stunning to him. He couldn’t get your dating profile pictures out of his head, and he wished you would dress that way for him instead of a profile where you try to find a mediocre guy to date. “Here, I hope it helps,” Lucifer gave the two to you.

“Thank you,” You said, automatically taking the painkillers.

Lucifer didn’t know what to say, so he turned and went to walk to the door. “I’ll be in the living room working-”

“Wait,” You stopped him. “Can you stay in here for a bit? I’m just,” You stuttered a bit, already embarrassed by asking the cute asshole to stay. “I’m bored.” You admitted.

He nodded, crossed his arms, and sat down on your bed.

There was a small silence for a while before you chose to speak up, “I’m really sorry I got you in a mess. Truly, I am. I know you hate me, but I want you to know that I am genuinely sorry.”

“I don’t hate you,”

You were speechless for a second. “You don’t?”

Lucifer shook his head. “You may have gotten into this mess first, but you’ve been a big help. I would never have made this much progress alone.”

“Oh,” Was all you could say in response. “It’s nothing. Anyone would have done it,” You quietly finished. A small silence again, “Usually, if I were sick, I would be playing the game you’re from religiously,” You chuckled. “Unfortunately, ever since you arrived, the game stopped existing. Maybe that’s why I’m so bored.”

Lucifer shifted in his spot. “What exactly was the game?” He asked curiously. “My life never felt like a game. I spent time with my brothers, Diavolo and Barbatos, went to school, worked, and usually repeated that. I don’t remember living in some kind of game.”

You thought about your answer before thinking about what to say without making his life sound fake. “Well, it was a dating game,” You began. “You could romance you and all of your brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, and Simeon. And be kind of a sibling figure to Luke.”

Lucifer intertwined his own hands together, deep in thought. “How much do you know about us? What story did you follow?”

“Well,” You thought about what to say again. “It was about an exchange program to unite the three realms. It was an idea Diavolo had started. Two human exchange students and two human exchange students. I was one of the students out of a random pick. Or, the main character was, at least.

“The main character becomes a family therapist for you and your brothers, helping you fix things that we probably shouldn’t have even put ourselves into. You hid Belphegor in an attic because he wanted to commit treason. I tried to make pacts with you and all your brothers, and when he was released, he killed the main character, which was kind of awkward.” You chuckled. “We came back to life, though, thanks to Barbatos. And then, um,”

How were you supposed to bring up Lilith? “And?” Lucifer pressed.

“I know about Lilith,”

Lucifer tensed up and looked down at his hands. His leg began to bounce. He was not enjoying the idea of that. “What do you know about her?”

“The Celestial War was to protect her, but she didn’t make it. So you swore to Diavolo to have her resurrected as a human. The main character was her descendant.” He stayed silent. He remained tense, and his leg only bounced faster. “You didn’t have to keep it all to yourself, you know?”

“I had to,”

“No, you didn’t,” You denied. “You don’t need to put so much pressure on yourself. You don’t need to go through things alone. You-”

“I have to go,” Lucifer interrupted you, standing up from his spot and walking towards the door.

“Wait, Lucifer-”

“I don’t want to talk, so please rest.” He spoke honestly. He wasn’t happy, but Lucifer tried hard not to take it out on you. Even if he was slightly mad about how much you knew about him and his story, how was it your fault? It wasn’t. But he still wanted to blame you.

The two of you didn’t speak the rest of the day, besides him bringing you in dinner and more painkillers whenever you needed them. You just hoped things could patch up between you two soon.

++++

Tag List: @sassykattery , @dfgdfgxftdd , @karmasadistic69 , @sayumiht

Next Part

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me smut

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thechangeling · 3 years ago

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Five

Ok so I actually got this idea awhile ago long before someone suggested it on here. Ty finding a letter that Christopher Lightwood wrote.

Tbh I don't know if I got Christopher's voice right. I tried my best!

I listened to Five and Mind by SAL while writing this.

Cw: Mentions of ableism.

For the future,

To whomever may be reading this, I would first and foremost like to begin by mentioning that I have not the slightest idea why I am writing this letter. Perhaps I have gone mad, just like everyone always says.

I believe most importantly that I have a strong desire to maintain hope for the future. Hope for a future that can and will include people like me. Shadowhunters who are different like me. And as I reach out into the void, across the empty chasm of time, I cannot stop myself from wondering.

Wondering what your life has been like. Wondering if your childhood was as lonely and frightening and complex as mine. Wondering if you were also seen as the outcast. Strange and offputting, but brilliant.

The smart one.

Do you find yourself with the inexplicable need to pull apart every peice of this fascinating existence and examine it at greater length? To analyze and discover answers to questions you honestly did not even realize you had until that very moment? Do you think like I do?

I am very fond of science. Some might say too fond. Most shadowhunters find it unusual for a fellow shadowhunter to be so invested in what they view as mundane business. I suppose shadowhunters are meant to be fighters and not scientists, which I find utterly ridiculous. Science is the key to everything. As a matter if fact, I have proven time and again how useful it can be to be to examine a problem from all possible angles rather then continuing to believe that there is only one right way.

Nephilum are stubborn as you know, and they can also be cruel. I am sure you understand just how painful it can be to be different, especially when no one will ever let you forget it.

The people I grew up with, my family and friends for the most part mean well. My parents always encountered my interests and never scolded me for behaving in a way that others may have thought to be abnormal. My friends however, are a more complicated story. There love has always felt, strange. Lack-luster in some ways, almost superficial.

They never took an interest in my experiments or listening to me talk about them. Which I understand, some people seem to find science frightfully dull. However it always hurt, knowing that the people who claimed to be my friends did not fully accept me.

I think you'll find a lot of that in your life. People will only take a liking to certain parts of you, often requiring you to pretend to be something you're not to gain their approval. You will need to twist and remold yourself into a more appropriate shape. But if you are here, reading this letter then I beg of you, please learn from my mistakes. Do not lose yourself.

Please do not sacrifice one precious bit of that brilliant mind. It is your most treasured possession. I understand this world and this society are harsh and cruel. There are people who will want to use you for their own personal gain. They will see you as what you can do for them and not as a whole person. We are only valuable to them if we can serve them. To make revolutionary discoveries or to create brilliant masterpieces. Please remember that you belong to yourself and you do not have to please them to be great.

Yes you can change the world, but please heed my words and remember that you do not have to. You can save them from themselves, from their own stupidity and arrogance. But do they deserve it?

Finally, I wish to leave off on a more pleasant note. I want you to remember that no matter how lonley and isolated you may feel, you are never alone. We have always existed and we always will. Whatever you decide to do with this life, I want you to remember to trust yourself and trust that only you know what is right for you. No one else.

In a world that demonizes and dehumanizes those who are different, the most powerful act of defiance you can perform, is loving yourself. I can proudly say that I have finally managed to do exactly that.

I encourage you to do the same.

Sincerely,

Christopher "Kit" Lightwood.

Ty didn't realize he was crying until he saw the droplets of water hitting the page. Quickly he set the letter down beside him and quoted his eyes to avoid ruining the old parchnent any further.

He had been exploring the attic in Ciernworth while Kit looked after Mina downstairs. Ty found he could only take so much of the three year olds antics before he needed a break. Kit didn't seem offended. He understood that sometimes Ty just needed to be alone.

Which had led him to finding the letter hidden into a hole in the wall.

Ty was stunned. He was feeling a lot of things, none of which he could quite get a grip on. He knew of Christopher Lightwood of course, he was a shadowhunter legend. Did this letter mean?

Was Christopher...like him? Autistic? Was that what he had been referring to? Of course Christopher wouldn't have had the words back then.

But he still knew, Ty thought. Just like I knew.

The tears came again as he let Christopher's words sink in.

Kit, his brain supplied. He went by Kit. Just like my Kit.

By the angel that really wasn't helping. Ty picked up the letter again.

"You are never alone," he read out loud. And it felt real. It felt tangible, like Christopher was speaking to him in the room, like he was holding Ty's hand. Like Ty could just reach out.

It felt like a lifeline.

Ty let out a shakey breath that then formed into a laugh as he let the tears dry on his cheeks.

"Thank you," he whispered into the empty silence.

And Ty could only hope that the message was recieved.

Tag list lmk if u wanna be removed/added.

@playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @dianasarrow @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @zfoxdraws @julieandthefandoms @older-brother-kit @the-wckd-powers @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @clarys-heosphoros @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @felicitygeorgia @queenlilith43 @arangiajoan @eutonyinwhisper

#tsc #tda #the dark artifices #kit x ty #twp #ty blackthorn #christopher lightwood #tlh

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simpz-art-stash · 3 years ago

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The Breakdown [LMK]

A moment between MKing and Fang where both finally regard each other and their relationship as father / daughter & teacher / student. Tags: LOTS OF FLUFF “Again.” A pained groan escaped Fang as she sat up on her sore butt for the upteenth time. “Can’t we take a break?...My tail hurts…” She whined. She was tired, sweaty, and not at all having any fun. “No.” MKing replied bluntly, “Get up. You’re never going to win if you stay down.” He replied, arms crossed with that same serious look on his face.

She pouted and with an exaggerated motion, propped herself back up with the little wooden staff she’d been using since the start of this whole training business. The poor thing had seen better days, it was splintered and worn, to the point she’d had to wrap the base of it in fabric just to keep her hands from getting blisters. Which at this point had hardly done much to ease her swelling callouses. And that wasn’t even counting the last few matches she’d endured under her father’s lessons. Ever since she’d turned 50 or so, that was when they’d started this whole routine. He’d told her his reasoning for why she was here, to grow strong and take by his side as his successor in the future. She of course agreed to it, being the ever giving child to the Monkey King. She wanted nothing more than to be just like him. To grow up big and strong and eventually go on her own journey. Right now however she was struggling just to keep her legs from collapsing as she wiped the sweat off her brow. “Again.” He commanded, snapping her from her thoughts as her eyes glanced across the field of the dojo into his. She took a breath to steel her nerves and charged at him. Remembering what he’d told her, putting force into each step, and attempting to swing into the strike at the last minute. This time, this time- Her steps were still just as unbalanced as the last attempt, even with her stance poised properly, it left her wide open for an attack. Something MKing had masterfully pulled from his observation in watching her run at him the way she was now. It was sloppy, unfocused, and it didn’t take him any time at all to swiftly advert her center of gravity around his and throw her back. And just as before she found her world spinning in a blurred mess of colors as she was flung back onto the ground. This time landing on her side where a loud SNAP was heard. As soon as he’d heard that noise he’d switched his demeanor in an instant and rushed over, his brow creased as the dust settled. He first saw the staff broken in two, its splintered bits laying scattered about. But as some movement caught his eye, he shifted his attention towards that and saw her moving to sit up, there wasn’t any screaming or crying so that was a good sign. “Ah geeze..” He sighed, grateful it hadn’t been anything serious, “Come on let's get you a new one-” “I DON’T WANNA ANYMORE!” She yelled. Which caused him to jump a little at her sudden exclamation. His attention now primarily focused on the very distraught child before him. Upon closer inspection she looked fine, maybe a lil bruised but nothing a good night's rest couldn’t fix. No, what really caused him to freeze up was the look on her face. She looked at him with a look of fear.

Now, Wukong was a monkey of many things. A proud warrior, an old general, a friend and then some. He’d taken on countless battles and fearsome enemies, with very few able to really strike the fear into his core. But when it came to being envisioned with a look of fear, and by his own child no less, it left him in a state of shock he hadn’t felt in quite some time. In that moment of shell-shock she’d managed to regain her footing enough to stumble on passed him, her hands wiping at her face as she ran off. “Fang!” He called out to her, “Sweetpeach, wait- I-” It hadn't taken him long to really find her, one peek with his true sight saw her high up in the old bonsai that had been growing on the ledge of the cavern his little hut resided in. But even so..she didn't look anywhere near ready to deal with him right then so he simply sent out a few of the monkies to keep an eye on her while he went off to pick up some food, think things over. And boy did he think things over, if he thought he overthought things before, his mind was practically buzzing like an angry hive by the time he'd finally made it home. He was pushing her and pushing her and at this point he might as well of pushed her away altogether with the way she left him earlier. It broke his heart..seeing his little girl so distraught. All the while he'd been keeping himself blind to the signs for this reason alone, to make her strong..and himself stronger so that when the time came and something worse happened... He shook his head, he didn't wanna think about something like that when she couldn't even leave the island without his guidance.

He still found her in the same place as before, and exchanged a few glances with some of the older monkies that had been keeping an eye on her. They all seemed pretty huffy with him. 'Well that makes two of us...' He sighed. Passing them and climbing up into the tree, his eyes glancing over at the little ball curled tight around a cute little plush he'd made for her. Minikong, defender of the princess, stared back at Wukong, judging him in all his glory. But he could care less at that point, he had enough guilt to flood the ocean several times over, no his eyes were more keen to meet the current bundle taking resident in the little spot in the tree. "Sweetpeach?..." He spoke softly, as if the slightest wake against her fragile little ball would crumble her. It crumbled something when she flinched at his voice.

He cleared his throat when no answer came, "I uh..brought you some dinner." He rose his arm a little, before he placed down a carefully folded package of sliced fruit, all wrapped together in banana leaves. When she made no real movement to go for the food he sighed, "Come'on bud..throw me a peach here.." He pouted. She made a small noise, her little tail curling around her ankle, as if trying to make herself smaller in hopes he'd just forget about her and leave. "not hungry..." A rumble of her stomach claimed otherwise, which in turn got a small laugh out of Wukong, before he had to remind himself of his manners. "You sure about that?? Could've sworn I heard a rather distinguished appetite.." He hummed a little, his eyes never wavering from her furry little tail. She only seemed to grumble something incomprehensible in return. Creasing Wukong's brow as he tried to formulate a means to break through to her, at least enough to where she wouldn't starve herself... His eyes glanced back to Minikong, looking for pity, before an idea came to mind. "What's that Minikong?? She really isn't hungry?? Well that just won't do! And even after I picked her most favorite ripe fruit too..." He opened up the little ball of leaves, revealing the sweet savory piece's he'd so neatly cut up. He wasn't the best but he made due. "Sure would be a shame to let these spoil so soon..." He gave an overly exaggerated sigh, "I suppose that just means I'll have to eat them aaaaall by myself.." His eyes gave a side glance to the slight shuffle beside him. "Every.Last.Piece." "Nooo!!" Fang whined aloud suddenly, her movements jostling the branch she'd taken up residence on. Prompting Wukong to collect the rest of the snack before it met an untimely end to the monkies below. "Hmm?" Wukong quirked a brow back at her, hovering a piece dangerously close to his mouth all the same though. "Nonono!!" She smacked at his arm with Minikong, the traitor taking up arms against their king. "Woah kiddo I was just kidding!-" “Please don’t hate me. I know I can get better! Just train me more!” He froze, the piece in his hand lowering altogether as he turned to look at her altogether and her poor puffy face. Then it clicked. "Sweetpeach..." "I wanna get better, I wanna be strong, but it's hard!! I'm sorry!!" She stared tearing up again, her hands wiping at those big blue eyes of hers as she broke down. "I'm sorry, I'll get stronger, just don't leave me daddy!!" She bawled. And that right there shook Wukong's heart to the core, prompting him to drop what little fruit he had in hand before he finally took her into his arms. Cradling her and trying to soothe her cries. "Shh shh..hey it's okay.." He sighed, commending all those mother's and father's out there for having the strength to last as long as they did with this whole parenting thing...he could only imagine how the hell DBK dealt with it when he'd still been around. When her crying finally seemed to calm down he simply stayed with her like that for a bit, letting his hands comb through her hair while she sat curled up in his lap, so small to the rest of the world was she. He wanted to keep her safe from that world, that terrible merciless expanse that sought to take just as much as it gave. He wanted her to be strong, to keep safe, but he also wanted her to be happy...and what kind of father would he be to fail his own daughter if she wasn't any of those things? "I would never leave you behind...never for the remainder of eternity would I ever think of doing that to you." He softly stated, "I'm sorry I've been so hard on you..I didn't mean to push you as much as I did I just..." He sighed, "I just wanted to make sure that you would be ready. More than I was when I had to face the world and it's many painful lessons..." A sniffle escaped Fang then, her hands gripping at his shirt, before she shifted up a little, enough to look up at him, "Is that why you've been so scary?..." She sniffled, hiccuping a little, "Because..the world is scary..?" She blinked. His face grimaced, trying to keep it together for her sake, he brought his hand up and brushed a few stray tears off her cheek with his thumb. "I guess you could say that..." "I don't wanna..." Her face twisted into a sad frown, a threatening bout of tears pooled along the edges of her eyes despite the snot already running. "I don't wanna face the world if I can't have you with me anymore..." There it was, that remorseful little sliver of guilt that had been biting away at his core for the last few months, finally breaking through his stone ridden skin and jabbing him right in the heart. She'd been doing this for him. Pushing herself for him. To be the successor he told her she'd grow to be one day. She'd been so amped up, so happy to know she had a future to look forward to under his guidance. But that had been back when she was still a child, no better aware of her knowledge of the way things worked more than he did with the humans and their ever-growing fondness for technology. "I'm so sorry I made you feel that way sweetpeach...You don't have to be my successor if you don't want to.." "B-but I do!! I wanna make you proud!!.." She exclaimed, grabbing onto his shirt, "Be strong like you.." "Fang.." He called her name, prompting her to stiffen, he never used that name unless it was serious business. "I'm already proud of you...You've come so far with your training, even if you can't see it, you've already mastered plenty of martial arts! Took me years to find a good starting point and even then I had to fight just to get a teacher as good as myself." He hugged her close, "You don't need to be my successor for me to be proud of you OR to live here, you'll still be my little sweetpeach all the same..." He smiled down at her, easing her fears finally. "Whether you like it or not-" A squeal rang out of her when he lifted her up and began to smother her with kisses. "Stooop!!" She laughed, squirming like a fish out of water as he tickled her silly. "Stoppit!! That tickles!!" "I should hope so! Had me worried all day!!" He grinned, before heard a growl from her, his brow perking up. "Oh? Does the princess have her appetite back finally??" He smirked, finally putting her back down. Before his tail finally put down the bundle of leaves he'd been holding onto and allowed her to pick out the more juicy piece's she liked. "Go on then, I don't want you complain'n later that you missed dinner." He ruffled her hair a little and sat back. "Thank you daddy.." Her voice replied, a little muffled from the mouthful of food she had, but glazed with a sweetness that coated his heart with a sugary glaze that left him warm inside. "Of course bud..."

#my fics #LMK #Sun Wukong #Sun Wu Fang #my char

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oceanmonsters · 4 years ago

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I guess this is technically a callout post but none of this is new stuff, it’s stuff that’s already featured on my blog that I’m just collating together and explaining. I am not doing this to try and stir up drama or expose this person or bring them down or whatever. I’m just tired of myself and other poc getting told we’re overreacting or deluded or reaching when we call someone out on their shit and so I wanted to make an actual record of the reasons why I am against this person that I & others can can direct people to rather than having to repeatedly explain ourselves. If you read this and still decide that we’re wrong and overreacting then feel free to unfollow/block me.

@/ayeforscotland brands himself as a progressive left leaning “woke” person but fundamentally the thing he really cares about most is Scottish independence, and he weaponises progressive causes to support his own agenda. He has a long history of downplaying racism in Scotland and Scotland’s own imperialist history. He has somewhat changed after being called out for doing these things on several occasions but instead of recognising that he was wrong in the past and only changed his tune when people called him out, he lies and pretends that he never tried to whitewash Scotland at all even when there is obvious evidence to the contrary. (I don’t have more specific sources on his downplaying racism in Scotland/whitewashing it’s colonial history but poc on here have been talking about it for a while so if anyone has any links please lmk!)

While he reblogs antiracist posts and publicly denounces racism, he also seems to only care about racism when it furthers his own arguments. While I don’t have receipts for every single post, I’ve seen multiple occurrences of him trying to link racism to being pro-England/anti Scottish independence. As well as the previous post linked in which he he posted a video of white supremacists but made it all about how terrible the English are (while ignoring similar occurrences in Scotland) here is another example of the type of post I mean (warning for antiblackness) - making posts in the BLM tag literally trivialising racism and treating it as a joke to dunk on the unionists. It is really disgusting for a white person to be weaponising the racism of people who don’t agree with them to garner support for their own cause. While I think AFS may genuinely believe himself to be antiracist, he is clearly very performative and that he ultimately only truly cares about his main agenda of Scottish independence and is happy to use the experiences & suffering of English and Scottish POC as a tool to push his own agenda.

He is also incredibly disrespectful towards POC who call him out for the above. In this same thread linked earlier, he repeatedly tone polices after being called out (for purposefully inciting people to be racist on his posts/in his inbox so he can “expose them”, which is obviously disgusting in itself).

As well as the tone policing, in that thread he also gives a perfect example of being performative and not actually caring about racism: he basically expects that instead of calling him out when he does something wrong, we as poc should be expected to have a constructive chat with him and walk him through what he should and shouldn’t say. He says that he’s “happy to have a chat with [her] and learn about how [he] can improve in the future”. How gracious of him to be “happy to” have her to spend her time and energy walk-in him through how not to be racist in a perfectly friendly deferential way 🙄. He’s not willing to do any of the labour to actually learn or read about racism himself (if he was, he would know that inciting racists to spew hate speech and sharing it on his blog is not good allyship, and neither is expecting poc to personally educate you), he just expects poc to calmly educate him every time he messes up so he can learn not to do that same thing again, while never actually engaging with his own role in racism. My post here goes further into this topic. Furthermore, he has since blocked both me and @pakisstani for calling him out for his racism in all of the linked threads. Blocking the POC who repeatedly call you out for racism is really not a good look for a self-proclaimed ally.

AFS would no doubt profusely deny that he is a racist person. However, his actions and words in the threads linked WERE racist and until he takes responsibility for them and makes any effort to educate himself he has absolutely no business building up a platform marketing himself as progressive ally. If you’re a white person who still supports him after seeing all this then I don’t trust you any more than I trust him.

(+ bonus: this post isn’t racist but it is an ignorant and weird perspective, implying that people labelling themselves as from the UK/British because of the negative connotations are somehow shirking the blame of colonialism and responsible for enabling white supremacists to claim the label of English (completely ignoring the fact that there are plenty of poc living in England who do not want to claim the label for obvious reasons...). Maybe not particularly relevant to this post but I feel like it helps paint the picture as a whole.)

ETA: some things from others rbing this post, obviously I don’t have sources for these things but I have also seen similar occurrences and they fit into the attitude I’ve seen from AFS in the past (before he got called out and then pretended he never did those things).

Adding some screenshots for posterity in case links go down (all screenshots are from posts linked here)

#pls lmk if there are any mistakes or typos in this I have a headache lol #okay to rb but don’t derail/start shit I will just block you #afs #racism

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skellebonez · 3 years ago

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I'm so sorry that's happening to you. Fuck that/those anon(s), Knox just made a post ab the shadowpeach thing that they could certainly read. Essentially, there are several different versions of Wukong's and Mac's relationship, as paralells, as brothers, and as enemies/friends. People can see them in any way they want, it's called a fucking headcanon. I'm assuming you're writing the LMK version, where they don't seem to be brothers in any way. Even if they are, people should explicitly say that, and it should probably be Chinese people and/or the creators of the show. You're doing fine, and I'm so sorry this is happening. You truly don't deserve that. Maybe turn off anon for a while so they don't have the confidence to say horrible things? If you feel like taking a break from tumblr for mental health that'll be totally ok, the actually fucking good people will still be here when you get back.

I hope those horrible messages stop soon, and if they don't, I will personally come into your inbox and kick them very hard.

You matter, ok? Seriously, people on the internet can be assholes, especially after the family emergency you just went through. Why the hell would anyone think you were lying about that? I mean, if you needed to take a break for a few days, you would just say so.

I would recommend taking a break from tumblr for a few hours or days, and turning off anon as well. If any of them try to message you off anon, there's a big fat block button waiting for you.

You're not doing anything wrong, and I wish you the best.

I read Knox's post and while I was originally going to make my own post I think our feelings on the matter align enough that I am just going to reblog theirs with some additional tags. I have some rather... complicated feelings about all of this, partly due to things I saw off Tumblr, but it really boils down to me not wanting to draw this out longer than it needs to past acknowledging validity and sharing my personal opinion before moving forward.

I have blocked the anon, though they don't seem to have been logged in. I'm not going to turn off anon, however, because while those messages are awful I also received some wonderful kind messages in return. I'd like that space to remain open.

I may be a little more private about what is happening in my life in the future, however. I have my reasons for wanting to post at least once a day, reasons my friends know related to unfortunate circumstances in my past, but if i take a break again I will just post "gone for the day, I'll check back tomorrow" or something. I have a feeling that part of why I got the accusation in the first place was the coincidence of the timing. But coincidences happen. That's just life for you.

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rainandhotchocolate · 5 years ago

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Secrets

A/N YOOO DAY 1 OF ADVENT This is based on a request for a Hermione x reader, where the reader is Ron’s twin sister and doesn’t know that Ron has a crush on her. It’s mostly real fluffy, and I’m going to write a second chapter I think if people enjoy the character! :)

- Tagged users, i tagged Lily x reader in case anyone was keen on this too! Feel free to lmk to take you off it :)

Enjoy! (Hermione x Ron’s Twin Sister!reader, fluff)

Y/N grabbed hold of Hermione’s hand and dragged her down the stairs, careful not to let the invisibility cloak slip as the moved swiftly through the castle.

Y/N knew that Harry would kill her if he ever found it missing, but Ginny had promised to keep him occupied for the evening so that she could sneak it out of his dorm. Y/N hated to think what her younger sister was doing to keep him ‘occupied’, but pushed it from her mind as she focused on avoiding the trick step as the two girls continued down further towards the Great Hall.

“Where are you taking me?” Hermione hissed, her trademark nerves coming through on each word.

“Just lean into the surprise for once.”

“I’d rather not get caught out of bounds right as Dumbledore has returned to the castle.”

“Oh come on, you know that he’d hardly give a tough punishment to anyone friends with Harry,” Y/N teased her. She wanted to give her a kiss on her forehead, watch Hermione’s face relax at Y/N’s touch, but there was the very real chance that the invisibility cloak would slip at the slightest change in positioning, given that Y/N had grown about 3 inches and was pulling it way above their ankles if she didn’t remain in a crouched position. Hermione grumbled but didn’t respond, and Y/N knew it was because she knew Dumbledore wouldn’t ever really get them in trouble.

Eventually they reached the Great Hall, pausing momentarily to check that Ms. Norris wasn’t prowling anywhere nearby, ready to sound the alarm to Filch.

“All clear,” Y/N knocked her elbow lightly into Hermione’s ribs, and pulled her again before Hermione could make any sound of protest. Y/N pushed open the front doors slowly, slipping into the grounds. It was warm, or at least warm for May in Scotland. The iciness in the air had disappeared and there were flowers blooming throughout the grounds and in the potted plants by the green houses. Y/N continued to lead Hermione through the main courtyard and onto the soft grass, pulling off the invisibility cloak once she was sure they were out of the Castle’s main view.

“I’m not sure if this is my ideal date night,” but Hermione was smiling as she spoke, making Y/N grin down at her in response.

“That’s the point, Miss Granger, something you wouldn’t expect,” Y/N slowed her steps so that she could hold Hermione’s hand properly, “promise it’s just a little bit further.”

Hermione nodded, looking down the sloping hills and towards Hagrid’s hut.

“Ok close your eyes for a sec,” Y/N beamed at Hermione, stepping in front of her to block her view.

“Really, Y/N?”

“Come on, let me have this one night,” Y/N pleaded, pouting.

“Ok, ok,” Hermione laughed at the whine of Y/N’s voice and covered her eyes with both hands. Y/N watched her for a second before spinning on her heel and moving quickly down the rest of the hill. From her pocket she pulled out her wand and small package, placing this on the ground and standing above it. Taking a deep breath she flicked her wand over it. This better work, Fred, she thought, her nerves spiking as she thought of having made Hermione lose her 8 hours sleep for a fake spell.

After a split second where Y/N’s heart sat in her throat, the package moved. It hovered slightly, jumping up and then open, the packaging becoming bigger and bigger as it spun in the air. The spinning slowed as the packaging unwrapped itself, now as large as a picnic blanket, and placing itself daintily on the grass at Y/N’s feet.

“Fuck, yes!” Y/N exclaimed, realising after a moment that she would have startled Hermione.

“What’s going on?” She heard Hermione call, and spun around to see her moving down the hill towards Y/N, “Did you just yell?”

“Yes sorry! I, uh, well surprise!” Y/N threw her hands out awkwardly, stepping aside so that Hermione could actually see what Y/N had set up for her.

“What is all this?” Hermione stepped forward, gaping a little at the spread. On the banks of the black lake, a blanket lay across the grass, a small basket sitting in the middle. Hermione moved closer, peering inside, a smile playing across her face as she saw two butterbeers, strawberries, and a case of raspberry jam tarts, Hermione’s favourite.

“Well I know that we aren’t like, official official since we haven’t exactly told anyone,” Y/N laughed, and hoped it came across as easy going and not slightly nervous, “Anyway, I figured that wasn’t any reason to not celebrate our 6 months.”

“6 months!” Hermione yelped, wheeling around to face Y/N, “Oh my god I am so sorry I completely forgot, with everything going on I –“

“It’s fine, honestly,” Y/N grinned at Hermione’s now very flustered expression, “I didn’t expect you to remember, that’s why it was a surprise.”

“I really am sorry, I would have-“ but she fell silent when Y/N leaned in and kissed her softly. Hermione’s lips were soft and sometimes had the faint taste of ink to them.

“You’ve got to stop sucking the end of your quill,” Y/N snorted, pulling away and kissing her forehead. Hermione flushed, turning back towards the picnic blanket.

“I still can’t believe you set this all up for me,” She sat down on the blanket and stared out at the black lake. Y/N had a suspicion that she wanted to get a proper glimpse of the giant squid before they graduated the next year. Potentially to ask if it’s living situation was adequate or if Dumbledore needed to do some upkeep.

“Well I have to admit, Fred helped me with a bit of it – but I promise I didn’t tell him about us, I just said it was for something,” Y/N explained as Hermione opened her mouth to protest.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to hide this from your family, wouldn’t you want to tell your mum at least?” Hermione pulled out the tub of jam biscuits and opened it daintily, peeling off the stickers on each edge carefully so that she could fold them into little squares.

Y/N shrugged, avoiding her gaze. They had both agreed to avoid telling anyone for the first little while. This was mainly because neither of them really knew they were anything but straight until they had all travelled home to see Y/N’s dad when he was attacked at the Ministry. Whilst Ron and Ginny were determined to cheer Harry up, Hermione had stayed with Y/N all night and they’d woken up looped together in Y/N’s bed in the early hours of the morning having fallen asleep.

That was their first kiss. And it still made Y/N’s heart flutter even though she remembered the concurrent stomach ache she got when she felt Hermione’s soft lips press against her own, Hermione’s curls falling between them and her hand in the curve of her back, and realised that she was definitely not straight. And perhaps during a severe death eater attack on her own father wasn’t the best time to bring it up to the family.

And it wasn’t like Y/N hadn’t heard the sneers from other students, wizards were in such small pools that it was basically to heresy to not continue the family line. Y/N’s mum had been pressing her about her future grandkids since she was old enough to know what a uterus was.

It just… never seemed to the be right time to tell anyone.

“It’s better this way, and anyway at least no one can use us against each other,” Y/N winked at Hermione who rolled her eyes whilst biting into another tart, “But this is our anniversary, so less downer talk and more romance thanks.”

They remained by the lake for what felt like an hour before Hermione looked up and saw the moon in full shining down upon them, the stars twinkling brightly in the clear sky. Y/N knew what it meant when she looked up at the sky, it was her little tell that she had begun thinking about other things, about tomorrow. It was her meditation but organisational.

“Ok, come on we can go now,” Y/N had sidled over to her, leaning her arms back and against Hermione’s thigh. Hermione jumped, turning back to Y/N.

“What, oh, sorry, I faded out again didn’t I.”

“Yeah,” Y/N laughed, “but also I know if we spend too much time out late you’re going to start thinking about how many hours sleep you’re going to be able to get and then stress about being tired during class.”

“You know me too well, Y/N,” Hermione smiled toothily, reaching out a hand to touch Y/N’s forearm. She felt a jolt where Hermione’s fingers sat, trailing up and down her arm.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Anytime, lovely,” Y/N tried to keep her confident façade but felt her ears starting to burn red at Hermione’s earnest gaze.

“No, honestly, just, I know that we were both not exactly experience with the whole, kissing a girl thing, but I know I’ve been unsure and confused and just. Thank you.”

Y/N could feel the blush creeping up into her cheeks and chest now and cursed her ginger genes internally. Hermione leaned in slowly, taking her face in both hands and kissed her again, deeper this time, opening her mouth and slipping her tongue against Y/N’s softly.

Y/N couldn’t help but moan lightly as it flicked across her tongue again and she could feel Hermione’s body moving closer to hers, making Y/N lean backwards and onto the blanket behind her so that Hermione’s body was lying on top, her bushy hair falling over her face and onto Y/N’s. Hermione pulled her closer, Y/N wrapping her hands around Hermione’s waist to make it easier for them to be as close as possible. Feeling Hermione’s breasts pressed on top of her own made her stomach flip over, sparks flying throughout her body. It was terrifying. And possibly the most excited Y/N had ever felt.

They pulled apart, both breathing heavily and grinning stupidly at each other.

“You sure you want to go?” Y/N whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind Hermione’s ear, which fell immediately back out and across her face.

“Unfortunately, yes, I will start stressing about my sleep schedule very soon,” Hermione laughed at Y/N’s pout, “But I can tell you I wish that I could stay longer.”

“That’s all I need to hear.”

Hermione sat up, holding out a hand to pull Y/N up from the blanket, brushing some of the bits of dirt and grass out of her hair. Y/N turned back towards the blanket and pulled out her wand. With a flick it packed itself back up, letting off a small popping noise that made Y/N’s heart jump, praying that Fred hadn’t done anything particularly annoying to her basket.

However, much to Y/N’s surprise, the popping noise was quickly followed by small lights that flew from the basket and hovered just above it, twinkling like stars in the night.

“Your brothers’ may be a bit insane, but that is some beautiful magic,” Hermione looked impressed, watching them move slowly into different formations and lighting the area around the basket, like a soft torch.

“They always mean well,” Y/N made a mental note to thank Fred in some way and picked up the basket, letting it light the way back to the castle. Thankfully, they easily avoided Mrs Norris who had been prowling along the entrance to the castle but was momentarily distracted by a flock of pigeons who were pecking for scraps along the courtyard walls. Even Peeves stayed out of their way, but Y/N could hear him in a nearby classroom banging around the walls and cackling something that sounded suspiciously like dungbombs.

Hermione’s hand stayed gripping onto Y/N’s own the entire way back to the common room, and even though it meant a slight loss of circulation when Hermione heard what could potentially be a teacher, Y/N felt a little giddy at the idea that someone like Hermione wanted to touch her that badly. Once they made it back into the common room Y/N slipped off the invisibility cloak and tucked it into her back pocket, letting it hang out slightly.

“Ok well, goodnight,” Y/N sung Hermione’s hand softly, looking up into her brown eyes.

“Good night, Y/N,” Hermione’s expression was neutral but it felt like her eyes were staring into Y/N’s soul, watching every movement she made. After a moment, Hermione leaned in, kissing Y/N softly on the lips and then the cheek.

“I know it’s weird that we have to like go from date to roommates, do you want me to like wait here or…?” Y/N hated this part, feeling unsure. It was one thing to see her every day, hanging out with Harry and Ron, hands touching underneath the Gryffindor table, but a whole other problem when they got back to the dorm rooms and Y/N was torn between wanting to relax and nonstop thinking about Hermione changing two feet from her bed.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond but her face contorted into fear as there was a soft thump behind us. Y/N’s whole body went rigid, arms tensing by their sides as she dropped Hermione’s hand and spun around to see what had fallen.

“Lumos!” Hermione hissed beside Y/N, lighting up the common room and landing on a large stack of books that had fallen off one of the side tables near the far right windows. She lowered the wand so that it fell underneath the table, revealing two figures hunched behind it.

“Shit,” Y/N swore loudly, feeling her heart thump forcefully in her chest as she recognised the messy black and bright red mop of hair on each of the two boys. They stepped out, looking a little sheepish, moving into the light.

“What the fuck,” Ron swore loudly, staring at the two of them, his twin sister and best friend standing side by side. Having just kissed. Shit.

Taglist: @maraudersandco @northscorpio @seesaw-it @lustfulcry @depressedcoffeebean @supercuteasalily @palaisdecouture @blackpinkdolan @fashionlive15 @creepysweet @sour-patch-kid

#rainandhotchocolate #hermione x reader #hermione granger imagine #hermione granger x reader #hermione imagine #hermione x weasley!reader #hp imagine #hp x reader

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knightofameris · 4 years ago

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—𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬—

◦ 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ◦ 𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑠! ◦ 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠! ◦ 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒! ◦ 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠!! (𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠!)

𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑠' 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: blacklist “ameris 500 celebration!” if you don’t want to see any of my posts about this celebration! also if this flops i will cry. jk i won’t but it’ll definitely take a hit on my heart u__u (and if it does flop, you didn’t see this post)

—𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍—

Ahhhh! I’m so amazed that I got to 500 followers despite the fact that I barely?? Post?? And sometimes I just talk about random shit but even then, I still appreciate all of you guys so much? I have a few options on what I have to celebrate and I am so excited heheh. But before I get started I just,,, Have a few more things I’d like to talk about (cus I like to talk LOL). Feel free to skip though!!

content continued below the cut!! (warning; introduction is long because I just have a lot of thoughts I want to share LOL. seriously, feel free to just skip)

I know that I only really started posting Haikyuu!! around my 300 mark, and I feel like the people after my 300 mark are the one’s who are active because of how much I come onto tumblr and then disappear.

If you don’t know this, I’ve actually been writing on Tumblr since 2015/2016. I’ve just changed blogs so many times that it’s like, hey, this is my new blog. Or like, I would write for a few months, disappear, come back but then everyone who followed me was dead so I was like eh I’ll just start again or whatever. And I think this makes me very very soft because out of all the communities I’ve been in, I’ve truly felt more welcome/at home even?? With everyone in Haikyuu? Like yeah there’s shit that goes down every few days or whatever but it’s always so fun to see people interact with each other and though I was hesitant at first (because before this the only writer I’ve ever interacted with was Scout for marvel oop) I’m really glad I reached out to a few of y’all and vice versa.

But despite that, Marvel will always hold a place in my heart and to everyone who followed me from my Marvel days, thank you for supporting me way back when. And even to my Narnia days (AHAHAHA). I don’t think I would’ve continued writing on tumblr without your guys’ support. I know that younger me appreciated you all for reading those old works (even if I hate my old writing now).

And to everyone now, thank you for sending in asks or commenting on my works. I actually think I would’ve disappeared by this time from this blog if you guys didn’t interact. I’m not saying I’m writing for the follows or the notes, if that makes sense. But it’s more like, I feel less of a robot that people expect to churn out works. Idk, it makes me feel like a person? And it just gives me a lot more serotnin than you might think!!

One last thing though, it’s not me saying I expect you guys to always read my work and always comment. It’s more so, I’d actually rather have you guys comment or whatever because you want to and you want to read it. Like on one hand yes it does make me feel appreciated but I also don’t want you to feel obligated or feel guilty of you don’t read my things. No matter what, I will always be writing. It definitely does feel nice tho LOL

I promise in the future, if I ever do intros they won’t be this long lol.

Phew. Anyway.

For this celebration, this is only for Haikyuu!!

—𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒—

I love love love self ships SO much. So I want to hear about your guys’ self ships!

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

this will only be open from 12am september 23 — 11:59pm september 25 PST

any requests received before or after will be deleted (may be extended depending on how many requests I get!)

do keep in mind that i’m starting classes soon so it will take me some time to get through this.

send it in through asks or submissions!

send in as many asks as you’d like

if you use an emoji to show who you are, include it on all asks :3c

nothing nsfw for this, thanks!

since this is a follower celebration,,, i do have to ask that you be following me! honestly, i won’t check if you are, thats too much work on my part but it would mean a lot if you’re following me to participate in this celebration! );

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 [example]

i will be creating two instagram posts with one of them having a comment section (3-4 screenshots)

i might also include a screenshot of your profile and/or your s/o if I can put in more pictures!

chats with your s/o ( heheh (; ) (1-2 screenshots)

chats with your s/o’s team! (1-2 screenshots) (this will possibly be with the entire team or just a select few)

take a look at the example as that’s what i’ve done for a friend of mine!!

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨

send in 1-2 headcanons about you and your s/o

send in a little bit about your personality!!

your pronouns! and a name you’d like to go by!

give me your instagram handle! (not your real one, but what it would be within haikyuu) otherwise, i’ll make a random one based off your name!

what are your ~aesthetics~

what phone nickname would u have for your s/o (or any other people on the team) so it can be more personalized! or if ur like me where everyone is just their name besides a select few

do u have particular texting habits?

what’s your favorite animal? this is what I will be putting as your profile picture! alternatively if you submit all of this through my submissions and give me a piccrew, I will use that!

you could give me the most BASIC description, you don’t need to do all of these points, and i’d be fine with that. It’s up to you how much you want this to be personalized <3

(also this one’s not necessary, it’ll just be more ~fun~ but lmk if u wanna be a manager of the team! or if u have ur own little AU so u might have other certain details u want to throw in. otherwise i’m gonna make it a sorta free for all lol)

𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒: hi! my name’s ameris and i ship myself with suga! my pronouns are she/her/hers and i like to think that suga and i have a sort of childhood friends to lovers trope. i also like to think that we go stargazing at least once a month no matter what! my aesthetic is definitely space heh. i’m a little bit like suga where i’m chaos and baby! i curse a lot and i have way too many interests to count but i always like trying new things! my instagram handle would be ameris_stars (dude idk lMAO) and suga’s name in my phone would be Koushi <3 i make a lot of typos and i like using a mix of emojis and emoticons/occasional kaomojis. my favorite animal is a fox or dog!

this,,, is a lot but i’m okay with that! heheh

to protect you, I won’t publish your ask! I will make separate posts titled w/ your name + s/o + emoji (if you use your emoji). If you do it off anon, I will tag you!

Request List!! If you don’t see your name on here, just submit it again :3c I will not be tagging for the sake of not spamming you guys lol.

—𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔—

I would love love love to get to know you! So tell me about yourself!

what’s your favorite color?

who’re your favorite haikyuu characters?

favorite haikyuu teams?

you got any writers you want to give a shout out to?

maybe a little self promo too?

adsfasdfasdflj i will keep bringing this up but like any,,, spice asks,,, about the haikyuu characters cus like,,, lol

horn knee asks will be tagged with: “ameris needs a drink” which honestly sounds like i need an alcoholic drink and at this point, yeah

please be 18+ if you do send in any spicey asks!!

This can go on for as long as y’all want really, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’ll just answer these like normal and spread them out too lol

—𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐄—

I have a few ask games I’ve reblogged before, so I have a few linked for you LOL

intrusive asks 👁👄👁

~space~ asks! (this has a lot more!)

zodiac asks (just about my writing!)

writer’s asks

a little game I got from my friend which I think is absolutely so much fun

this is a version of fuck-marry-kill, but send in THREE characters (this one can be from any mix of my interests!) and I’ll choose which one I’d rather have a fanfic trope with:

“enemies-to-lovers”

“childhood friends-to-lovers”

and “fake dating”

would definitely prefer haikyuu characters

but doing a mix and match from all my interests is a lotta fun

things i used to or am currently into: haikyuu, marvel, bnha, demon slayer, rwby, sailor moon, voltron, dc, overwatch, tales of vesperia, legend of zelda, bungo stray dogs, narnia (lmao), one piece, uhm, i’ll add more if i can think of more, tbh u can even just say random characters and i’ll just google them

As always though, feel free to ask me any other questions!!

this will also go on for as long as whenever, i’ll probably spread out this one!

—𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒—

AH. It was lookin a little long so here’s the link to the post :3c (will edit post later!!! when I come back from my exam!!!)

to those who got to the end, omg i’m sorry. i talk so much. but thank you for your support and just getting through this block of words hakdfhkasf

#seriously #this is long #ameris 500 celebration!

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shawnssongs · 5 years ago

Text

Please.

requested: yes

summary: Shawn sees his ex after a year and tries to explain how sorry he is and asks for a second chance [angst]

warnings: none? probably some mediocre, unedited writing

check out my masterlist!

“Y/n?” You hear, the familiar voice making you freeze in your spot.

You turn around hesitantly, forcing a smile on your face to be met with the shocked faces of both Shawn and Aaliyah.

“Shawn,” you let out breathily.

“I’ll go grab the fruit.” Aaliyah spoke, taking the basket from Shawn and leaving the two of you alone in the isle.

The grocery store is the last place you expected to accidentally run into Shawn.

“H-how are you?” He stuttered.

“I’m good.” You responded dryly, not sure what else to say. The two of you had been broken up for over a year at this point, no contact whatsoever until now. Well, Shawn had tried to contact you, but you never responded.

“Y/n...” He trailed off and you knew what was coming.

“Shawn, no. Don–“

“Wait, just hear me out.” He pleaded, interrupting you. “Come on, it’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough,” you deadpan, turning to walk the other direction, but you don’t get far because Shawn rushed forward, gripping your elbows.

“Y/n...” He pleaded again, but this time you made the mistake of looking up into his perfect hazel eyes, and you couldn’t resist.

“Fine. What?” You tried to act annoyed, but the warm sensation of his large hands on your soft skin were simultaneously making you melt and shiver.

“Not here. Coffee?” You took a breath in, about to decline, but he knew you too well. “Please?” He spoke before you could.

“Okay...” You heard yourself answering even though you were trying to say no. Damn those eyes, you thought.

You found yourself waiting while Shawn and Aaliyah finished shopping, then followed them home so they could put their cold items away before you drove to your favorite coffee shop. You didn’t have cold groceries, so you just left everything in your car. The two of you could’ve walked, but you figured the less amount of time you spent with him the better.

“Hey.” Shawn let out when the two of you finally got settled at a table in the corner of the ship after getting your coffees.

“Hi.”

“I miss you.”

“Shawn-“ You start to shake your head, but Shawn interrupts you again.

“You said you’d hear me out, Y/n. Please, just listen.”

“What are you going to say, Shawn?” You ask. “That you miss me? That you made a mistake? That you want me back? I know all that, okay? It’s not going to make it better. If anything hearing it will just make me feel worse than I already do.” Your voice was quiet, but you spoke with a sense of urgency.

Shawn leaned forward, gripping your hands. “All of that’s true, but that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

You look up at him, eager for him to continue.

“I was going to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t appreciate you as much as I should have. I’m sorry I didn’t make you a priority. I’m sorry I took you for granted. I realize now that it wasn’t just the fighting in the end that led us to this. I understand that it’s more than that, and I’m sorry for everything.”

You didn’t realize you had started to cry until a tear drop fell from your face and dropped into your coffee, making both Shawn and you laugh.

His hands didn’t leave yours as he continued to speak. “I know I said some things that I can’t take back, and I know I broke it off, but you should know that I didn’t mean any of it. I was frustrated and I wa-”

“You woudln’t say something like that if you hadn’t thought about it before.” You counter, thinking back to the night Shawn broke up with you.

“Why are you still awake?” Shawn asked as he made his way into your shared apartment.

“I was worried. You said you’d be home hours ago.”

Shawn rolled his eyes at that, and for some reason it didn’t even upset you. The past few months had been so bad that these little fights had become a normal occurrence. “Stop acting like my mother.”

Shawn kicked his shoes off at the door and went to the fridge to grab a beer, but he groaned in annoyance when there weren’t any left.

“All you do is sit home and wait around for me all day and you can’t manage to go buy some more beer?”

You stand up to meet him in the kitchen, tired of his less than admirable attitude. “Thought you didn’t want me to act like your mom. First of all, I have a job. I don’t just sit around all day waiting for you. And you can buy your own damn beer, Shawn.” You responded, crossing your arms.

“Well sorry I just want to come home every once in a while to some peace and quiet and have a beer without my girlfriend interrogating me.” He spike sarcastically. Shawn pushed past you and made his way to the living room, plopping down on the couch.

“Interrogating you?” You call after him. “I just want to know where my boyfriend was when he told me he’d be home to spend some time with me for once.” You stand in front of him, blocking his view of the tv.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to hang out with you. You ever think about that?” The seriousness of his tone shocked you.

“What?” You ask, hoping you misheard him.

“Maybe I stay out so late every night because I’d rather come home to you in bed waiting for me than come home early and have to sit around and talk to you.”

“Are you serious?” You speak harshly, anger radiating within your body.

Shawn just shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Stop saying that.” You yell, letting his words get to you. For the past few months you had been doing your best to ignore his rude comments, believing he was just stressed and tired, but you couldn’t do it anymore. “Shawn, what are you saying?” You ask, looking for a real answer.

He rolls his eyes, refusing to speak.

“Are you saying you’re only with me for the sex?”

Shawn refuses to answer once again and you immediately run to the bedroom and start packing your things. And not even to your surprise, Shawn doesn’t come in to try and stop you.

When you make your way back into the living room with your duffel, Shawn is still sitting in the same place.

“Where are you going?” He asked, even though he looked uninterested.

“Nora’s.”

“Good. I could use a break.”

“Fuck off, Shawn.” You grab your keys and open the door, about to leave when you hear his voice call out to you. For a split second you thought he was going to apologize, ask you to stay, but it was the opposite.

“Hey, Y/n. While you’re at it, don’t come back.”

That was the last time you had seen Shawn until now. You had no idea what was going on in his life this whole time since you avoided his name like the plague. You never even went back to the apartment to get the rest of your stuff. The worst part about the whole thing was the fact that that fight happened while Shawn was sober. He was conscious of every word he said.

Shawn’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Maybe I did mean them at the time, but Y/n, now I realize how stupid I was. I didn’t appreciate everything you did for me. I was stressed all the time since I was working on the album and I pushed you away when I should’ve been pulling you closer. Look, I’m not making excuses.” He explained, pulling your hands up towards his lips. “I’m apologizing. Nothing can excuse what I did and how I acted, but I can promise that that Shawn is gone, okay? He doesn’t exist.” You remain silent as Shawn continues. “I said and did some terrible things, but I can promise never to act like that again. I’ll never take you for granted again, Y/n.”

Again, you didn’t speak. You kept your poker face up and looked down at your intertwined hands.

“Please, say something.” He begged, gripping tighter. “Tell me you’ll give me another chance, honey.”

You figured enough was enough and flicked your eyes up to meet his before speaking. “Do you still have all my stuff?”

“Yes. Y-of course.”

As he answered, you remove your hands from his grasp, grabbing your keys off the table.

“Pack it all up. I’ll text you the address to send it to.” And with that, you stood up and left the coffee shop.

You knew you’d see Shawn again. He wasn’t just going to send you your stuff without showing up to talk to you again. You figured you’d deal with it then. Maybe in the future you could forgive him, take him back, give him another chance, but for now, you needed to keep your distance. He hurt you because he didn’t respect you, didn’t understand your worth. You weren’t sure you wanted to risk going through that ever again.

- feel free to send feedback and or requests! would anyone want to be on a tag list?? -

- also, part 2 maybe? lmk -

#shawn mendes #requested #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes writing

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telesthisia · 5 years ago

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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; mun & muse - meme.

TAGGED BY: @hyaciiintho thank you so much!!! <3 TAGGING: @rcguna @cadcnce either or whatever works for you bear, @panickypeachboy @paintmaid @emfiliae @windmcge and you as well!! The person reading this

FILL OUT & REPOST ♥ this meme definitely favors canons more, but i hope oc’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. multi-muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm. <--- leaving this here because this is super sweet ALSO FAIR WARNING my blog has right click turned off. I’m going to be placing this under readmore but I think you can see it on dashboard view! If not lmk we’ll work something out!!!

MY MUSE IS: CANON / OC / AU (Verse dependent) / CANON-DIVERGENT (Interactions & verse dependent) / FANDOMLESS

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES well kinda at least thanks to ssbu before she wasn’t that well known I MEAN PPL KNEW HER BUT SHE DIDN’T HAVE AS MANY FANART AS OTHER ZELDAS SDJBKHJABSD/ NO

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK because not too many people talk about her and by her I mean ALTTP Zel, people are bonkers over SSBU Zel!

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO if we’re talking about the canon of ALTTP and OoX series rather than ssbu it’s a hard no, she has enough magic to be considered a sacrifice to break barriers and revive the dead but not enough to fend herself off from evil mages who want to talk over the world / IDK

Are they underrated? YES / NO

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO / MAYBE

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO / MAYBE

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON? NOT THAT STRICT HONESTLY, she’s just an OC at this point haha because she has zero substance in her own god damn game ;v; she’s just exposition.txt with dulcina effect playing into view though it is somewhat justified since she is the princess and the only thing that stopped Agahnim from breaking out Ganon.... I MEAN!!! SHE’S NOT AT ALL A DEPRESSED CALM ROMANTIC IN CANON LET’S PUT IT TO YOU THAT WAY SDBKASDJHBDASD.

SELL YOUR MUSE! AKA TRY TO LIST EVERYTHING, WHICH MAKES YOUR MUSE INTERESTING IN YOUR OPINION TO MAKE THEM SPICY FOR YOUR MUTUALS. TAKES A DEEP BREATH

Tiny funky elf princess trying her best to rule elf kingdom. HJKA there’s more, I’m lazy but not that lazy. She’s the descendent of essentially a mortal god, more than likely acting as an avatar of sorts to the goddess Hylia, as such she’s gifted with fantastical abilities that’s been passed down her family for generations and she intends to use these powers to protect her kingdom that’s still on the road of recovery, as the sole survivor from Agahnim’s destruction upon Hyrule and thus sole scion she’s left picking up the small fragments from the tragedy that occurred ages ago where the Hero of Time had fallen. But here’s the downside to these powers: she was born with a very weak body and poor health as such she can’t utilize the abilities she has from her bloodline aside from a few powers without affecting her low stamina issues. Namely telepathy, clairvoyance, healing, sealing things away, creating barriers, and connection with the spirit realm. As such, she tends to rely on the wisdom given to her by her naturally bright mind and enhanced by the mythical object known as the Triforce of Wisdom. Surprisingly, she can be cunning despite her soft-hearted nature and is willing to do whatever it takes to protect her kingdom and people she loves, her silent determination more than makes up for the lack of powers she may have. That in mind, she’s often the target of more nefarious plans that means the downfall of her kingdom. She may not have the amazing light magic spells her ancestors did to prevent darkness from taking over but that doesn’t mean her magic isn’t any less potent, she just can’t tap into it. She’s an easy target for enemies that wish to use her sacred powers to revive the dead Ganon or break pass whatever powerful barrier or seal that’s in place.

Her future is pretty grim as well, considering she has a shorter life span. But it’s fine, things are fine she may have a gloomy outlook on certain things but that doesn’t stop her from living life!! Despite how sour this may all seem Zelda is still that encouraging young woman whose kindness defines her, she’s playfully innocent around friends and enjoys exploring old places of decay that’s rich with history! She tends to bottle up her more negative aspects to not worry others since she’s the pillar of an entire ass nation, she needs to maintain her placid demeanor as a means to calm and soothe others around her. Because the truth of the matter is that the events of ALTTP (before the game where harsh plagues among other things happened before Agahnim arrived to fix everything as well as after the events of the game) and OoX, instances where she’s witnessed death of loved ones, the downfall of her kingdom, and coming across death herself has affected her greatly. She suffers from grief and depression that needs to be addressed but... ;v;

NGL I’M ABOUT TO CRY

NOW THE OPPOSITE, LIST EVERYTHING WHY YOUR MUSE COULD NOT BE SO INTERESTING (EVEN IF YOU MAY NOT AGREE, WHAT DOES THE FANDOM PERHAPS THINK?). HJKA TAKE OUT MY BULLSHIT TAKE ON HER AND YOU’RE LEFT WITH EXPOSITION AND DAMSEL IN DISTRESS!!! She’s not at all interesting if you don’t take into account her roles in the mangas which I somewhat base her personality and thoughts on... she’s just.... nice pretty princess that needs to be rescued. A tale as old as time....

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE? GOOD QUESTION!!! BECAUSE I STARTED OUT WITH HILDA BEFORE DECIDING TO GO WITH SKY ZELDA BECAUSE I WANTED TO DO A MORE OUTGOING MUSE and then I opened up a sideblog for this Zelda out of whim. There’s no reason why I choose the most obscure Zelda, I just did it because I thought it’d be fun. I did not expect this much characterization for someone like her ngl. I guess what keeps me going is the fact that she’s a fun character to write for!

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING? HA!!! NOTHING!!! Mental illness is a bitch, I will have my down... weeks. Not days, literal weeks or months depending on how long my episodes last. It sucks, and I try to work around it but there’s not much I can do. That said, inspiration depends on motivation and want to write. As well as focus because god knows I have so little of that.

SOME MORE PERSONAL QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN.

give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES / NO I TRY BUT UNDERSTAND THERE’S NOT MUCH TO WORK WITH IN CANON YOU EITHER LIKE HER OR DON’T

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO but I honestly should???

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES where’s the kinda opition, because I personally love her and think she’s interesting enough but I’m still working a lot on her NO

Are you confident in your writing? YES / HA HARD NO

Are you a sensitive person? YES fun part of having ADD is that you feel emotions more intenstly, I’m naturally a senstive person too so :’)))) / NO

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL? YES OF COURSE!!!! As someone who wants to grow more in writing any sort of feedback is appreciated!

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER? If you give me the chance to ramble about this stupid elf I will literally love you so much like I love all sorts of questions anyone may have about her!! Though I feel my rambles don’t really make much sense since I just type whatever pops in the mind and put it down as fast as I can without double-checking well enough.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY? Sí! Again, I want to grow more as a writer and rper! So if someone were to come across a headcanon they don’t like I’d like to know why so that I can think more critically about it and fix it so that it better fits Zelda. If someone were to say “I don’t like this” without saying why it really won’t help much aside from letting me know that you don’t like the thing, which is fine and valid but pls let me know why!

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT? Eh, fine with it. I honestly don’t mind if someone doesn’t like my characters, any of my characters I play as! Sometimes, certain portrayals aren’t someone’s cup of tea and that’s perfectly fine. I won’t take offense to it, at the end of the day while I’m still working on Zelda I’m happy with how much she’s grown over the years I’ve played her as... which were just two but it feels longer dude!!!

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT? Again, I wouldn’t care that much lol. It’s just rping, it’s really not that deep. It’s no different from someone not liking a book because they just don’t vibe with the writing style among other reasons. I may be sensitive but I don’t really take a lot of things personally.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS? Ye uvub! I’m a literal dumbass behind a keyboard, don’t be afraid to say “hey this wasn’t spelled right” or “hey this doesn’t make much sense mind checking it over really quick”.

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN? I THINK?! I MEAN HONESTLY I’M SUPER ANXIOUS AND A WORRYWART I JUST DON’T SHOW IT MUCH AAAAAAAA I’d like to think of myself as chill ;v; I try to treat others how I want to be treated and just try to be nice. Idk if I come across as that or not, it’s hard to convey feelings through text sometimes to some.

#THIS TOOK ME A BIT BECAUSE MY ATTENTION SPAN IS ALL OVER THE PLACE #ooc postings.#i need to sneep but.... i just need to answer meme too ;v; at least do one writing on here! i feel bad not doing much aaaa #dash games.

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lucacangettathisass · 5 years ago

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how the light gets in (ch. 6)

SUMMARY: After your home is ransacked by a group of strange men, you and your cousin are taken in by a group of outlaws. And that’s when the trouble really starts.

PAIRINGS: John Marston x Fem!Reader, Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE, CHAPTER FOUR, CHAPTER FIVE

TAGGING: @mountainhymn if you would like to be tagged in future tags lmk!

NOTES: oof got a long one here fellers! but also a pretty speedy update by my standards so im very happy! small warning for some suggestive language and micah being a creepy dick. as always feedback and REBLOGS are greatly appreciated! have a good one!

Over the following few days, you remained with the other women, only seeing the men who chose to bring in food. This was usually Mr Matthews, Mr Pearson, and Herr Strauss, although Mr Escuella would occasionally pop in. Herr Strauss in particular seemed to have grown fond of you, as he would linger and speak with you in German. You found him to be an erudite and rather friendly man, and you enjoyed his conversation, and the fact that you seemed to have made a friend.

Shortly after Mr Marston’s return, Mr Morgan and Mr Smith went hunting and returned with two deer, which lifted everyone’s spirits considerably. Even Sadie seemed impressed at the mens’ efforts, which you hoped meant she would actually grow to respect them, and possibly even like them.

About four days after Mr Marston’s rescue, you decided to go check on him, and make sure the stitches were holding up well and nothing had gotten infected.

Sadie, of course, insisted on going with you and wouldn’t take no for an answer, despite the fact that you wouldn’t be that far away.

“I don’t want you out of my sight.” She said as you both trudged through the snow, which had frustratingly gotten thicker following a heavy fall the night before. “I don’t trust any of these degenerates.”

“They’re not degenerates Sadie.” You said. “They’re trying to help us.”

She scoffed.

When you entered the building housing the men, you quickly spotted Herr Strauss in the corner. He had looked up when the door opened and you both exchanged a smile.

“Guten morgen Herr Strauss.” You said politely.

“Guten morgen fraulein.” He looked over your shoulder, where you knew Sadie stood. “Frau Adler. Do you speak German?”

“No.”

Herr Strauss seemed surprised at Sadie’s abrupt and sharp tone, and unsure as to how he should continue the conversation, or if he should continue it at all.

“I’m just here to check on Mr Marston.” You said in an attempt to ease the tension. “I won’t be too much of a bother.”

You approached Mr Marston and saw that Miss Roberts was already at his side, with Jack in her lap. This was hardly a surprise, as Miss Roberts scarcely left Mr Marston’s side since his return, keeping him company and making sure the stitches remained clean as best as she could. It warmed your heart to see such devotion and love.

At some point someone had placed a large bandage over Mr Marston’s right eye, obscuring almost half his face, and making him seem very grim indeed. You felt rather sorry for him.

“How are you today Mr Marston?” You asked, smiling kindly.

“I’m alive, so that’s something.” Mr Marston grunted, his eye looking up and behind you. “You must be Mrs Adler.”

“I am.”

“I’m real sorry about what happened to your husband.” Mr Marston sounded sincere, and you were touched on Sadie’s behalf. “I-Well, I guess it happened to you too.”

It took you a moment to realize that Mr Marston was talking to you. “I-Yes.” You swallowed in an attempt to keep your emotions in check. “But you’ve all been very kind.”

You knelt beside Mr Marston and re-examined his face. Just like last time you kept your touch light, just skimming his skin with the pads of your fingertips, only using force to tilt his head when you needed to, and even then you used as little as possible, so as to not hurt or startle. “So, Mr Marston, have you experienced any irritation? Or seen anything that would perhaps indicate an infection?”

Mr Marston was silent for a few moments, probably in thought. “No.” He said. His voice was a little shaky, which concerned you.

“Is something the matter Mr Marston? You sound odd.”

Mr Marston quickly shook his head. “No, nothin’. It’s uh, it’s just my voice.” He cleared his throat and turned his face away.

Feeling somewhat perplexed, you withdrew your hands from Mr Marston’s face. “Well, you seem to be healing well.” You placed a hand gently on his forearm. “There will be some scarring, but there doesn’t appear to be any other cause for concern.” You gave him an encouraging smile.

He said nothing.

You heard a deep chuckle. “There’s no need for you to be fussin’ over him like that miss.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw Mr Bell, smirking while he lit a cigarette. You offered a smile. “Good day Mr Bell, how have you been?”

Mr Bell snorted. “Cold as sin.” He took a drag of his cigarette and looked you over. He was looking at you the way you had seen collectors look at supposedly valuable items; appraising them from sight alone before deciding if they were worth a closer look. “Bet you could keep me warm though.”

You gave him an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I haven’t fared any better.” You said. “I doubt I would be able to help you.”

Mr Bell’s smirk grew wider, and he chuckled lowly. “I could show you a thing or two if you like.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” You said, genuinely confused as to what Mr Bell was talking about.

“Ignore him.” You saw Mr Escuella standing beside the small fireplace, smoking his own cigarette. He shot Mr Bell a dirty look. “Would it kill you to not be a total jackass to everyone?”

Your eyes moved from Mr Escuella to Mr Bell and back again. You were beginning to feel rather awkward. “How are you feeling Jack?” You asked the young boy, turning to him in an attempt to change the subject and avoid any further tension. “Not too cold?”

“No.” He smiled at you. Over the past few days he appeared to have warmed up to you, which pleased you immensely. You had always loved children, and despite everything, you still dreamed of having some of your own.

“Good.” You smiled. “You let me know if you need anything ok?”

“Ok.”

“You want to sit?” Miss Roberts brought Jack closer to her, and seemed to be rising out of the stool she was sitting on. “I can’t imagine the floor is very comfortable.”

“Oh no no no!” You said quickly. “Really Miss Roberts, there’s no need.” You smiled reassuringly. “It’s like I said to Miss Grimshaw yesterday, I’ve spent a lot of time on my knees.”

To your surprise, Miss Roberts gave you a shocked look. “I-You what?”

You furrowed your brow, standing up. “You know, in church?”

The look of shock on Miss Robert’s face was replaced by one of realization before turning to sheepishness. “Oh! I mean-yeah, ‘course.”

Another chuckle came from behind you, even deeper than the last, and sounding far more amused. “Oh, you really are somethin’ ain’t ya sugar pie.”

You turned, and saw that Mr Bell had moved closer, now only a few feet away. His cigarette was hanging out of his mouth, which was contorted into a smile that wasn’t exactly pleasant. His eyes shone, but not with any emotion or intention you could easily identify. It made the hair on your arms stand up.

It didn’t take long for Sadie to stand in front of you, obscuring your view of Mr Bell. “Back off.” She snarled. “Touch her and you’re fucking dead.”

“Sadie!” You grabbed her arm and tried to pull her back, panicking. While you had grown to know a few of the gang members, Mr Bell was still an unknown variable. None of the other members had said anything about him, so you were flying blind where he was concerned, and you didn’t wish to take any chances. “I’m very sorry about her Mr Bell.” You said hastily, eyes flicking back and forth between the two.

“Don’t apologise to him.” Sadie snapped. She wrenched her arm out of your grip and grabbed your hand. “Come on, we’re gettin’ out of here.”

Before you could react further, Sadie dragged you outside, keeping your hand in a vice like grip.

“Sadie you can’t say things like that to people!” You exclaimed once you were both out in the cold, door slamming shut behind you. “Especially people who help you!”

She snarled and stopped abruptly. “Well you can’t tell people you’re used to being on your knees!”

You frowned. “Why not? Surely they know what I mean?”

“They’ll think you mean-” Sadie stopped and sighed. “Look, just-just forget it.”

Now you were even more confused. “What? They’ll think I mean what?”

“I said forget it!” Sadie snapped.

You winced. “Sorry.” You said softly. You looked down at your feet, cheeks flushing from the cold and embarrassment.

Sadie sighed again, and you felt her wrap her arms around you. “You don’t need to be sorry.” She said softly. “But I am.” She pulled away, holding onto your shoulders, and you looked up at her. She looked tired, haggard, defeated. You had never seen her like that before, and you felt guilty. “You know I worry about you.” She said. “And all of this ain’t helpin’.” She squeezed your shoulders. “But I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you. I’m not angry at you.” The corners of her lips twitched upwards slightly into a smile. “Do you forgive me?”

“Oh Sadie.” You immediately wrapped your arms around her. “Of course I do. I’ll always forgive you.”

You felt her tremble slightly when she hugged you back. Probably the cold.

Later, while speaking with the women and re-braiding Sadie’s hair, you all received a visitor.

It was a man you had recalled seeing with the other men, in your peripheral vision. He was older, appearing to be close to Mr Matthew’s age, and dressed entirely in black with a rather large hat. Once he took the hat off, you noted his eye catching red hair, which you were sure was far more bright and vibrant in his youth. Now it seemed to have faded, and was accompanied by a considerable amount of grey, while his moustache was seemingly untouched by time.

“A-Afternoon ladies.” He said, looking around until his eyes landed on you.

You paused in your braiding of Sadie’s hair. You looked up at the man, and noted that he was clutching onto his hat, fingers drumming on the rim of it. He seemed nervous, so you smiled kindly. “Good afternoon sir.”

He seemed almost startled, like a child that had been caught doing something they shouldn’t be, but he quickly composed himself. He took a step closer to you. “I uh, I thought I should finally introduce myself.” He held out a hand. “Orville Swanson.”

You felt yourself perk up, and your smile grew wider. “You’re the Reverend right? Miss Grimshaw told me about you.” You took his hand and shook it. “It’s very nice to meet you Reverend Swanson.”

The Reverend seemed startled again, but he shook your hand as well and even smiled. “May I sit?”

“Of course!” You gestured to the empty floor beside you. You resumed braiding Sadie’s hair, but you watched the Reverend from your peripheral. “Is there something you needed Reverend?”

“I uh, I wished to speak to you. About what you said earlier.”

You felt Sadie tense, and you gently squeezed her shoulder to keep her calm. “Which part?”

“The part about church.”

That didn’t surprise you. “Which denomination are you Reverend, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Baptist.” He seemed to hesitate again. “At least, I was. Before…” He trailed off. You remembered how Miss Grimshaw mentioned that he was no longer a member of the clergy, that he had more or less abandoned his post, even before he met the gang. “Well, that was a long time ago. But, what about you? What was your church?”

“Eastern Orthodox.” Even now you could transport yourself to the old church; feel the polished wood, smell the heavy incense, hear the praise and worship of your fellow believers. It made you feel sad. You missed that old church, and all the people you had met because of it.

The Reverend furrowed his brow. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of that one.” He said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“Well, it’s more popular in Eastern Europe than here.” You said. “I’m sure it’s numbers pale in comparison to the Baptists.”

The corners of the Reverend’s lips twitched upwards. “So, how did you come to Eastern Orthodoxy?”

The locket around your neck grew heavy, and almost burned. “My mother worked for a wealthy Russian widow.” You explained. “She had immigrated to America years ago, and she kept her religion with her. When I was very young, she was kind enough to take me in, and she raised me with it. It might sound silly but, it almost feels like it’s a part of me now.” A sad smile formed on your face.

“Oh no! That’s not silly at all!”

You looked at the Reverend in surprise at how fervent he was with his words.

“Um, well, I mean-” Apparently embarrassed by his outburst, the Reverend cleared his throat. “It’s...good, to have a uh...rich, spiritual life.” He paused, seemingly trying to fully collect himself. “This kind of life...well, it doesn’t really tend to attract the most spiritual of folks. So, you know, it’s nice to see someone else who has kept their faith.”

You smiled kindly and nodded. “I understand.” You said assuringly. “It’s comforting, having something like that, you know?”

The Reverend seemed to consider this, before smiling. “Yes. It is.”

You smiled back, because for a moment, the Reverend seemed at ease. And looking at him, he didn’t seem like the kind of man who felt like that often. You knew you couldn’t do much, but if you could make someone that happy, then that would be more than enough for you.

i don't remember if it was ever explicitly stated that swanson is baptist, but considering the church he preaches at in the epilogue is apparently baptist (according to wikipedia) i decided to go with it. the only thing im really sure of about the reverend is that he isnt catholic which does grant me a lot of wiggle room.

German translations:

Guten morgen Herr Strauss: Good morning Mr Strauss

Guten morgen fraulein: Good morning miss

Frau: Mrs

#john marston x reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead fanfic #rdr fic #red dead redemption 2 fic #fic: how the light gets in

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lysa1201-saucy · 2 years ago

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Don’t Read A Book In Abyssal At 3 AM! (Not Clickbait)(Emotional)(Gone Sexual) - Lucifer x F!Reader (Part 6)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

Read Chapters Early on my Patreon!! Chapter 7 will be posted on Patreon first! Also includes NSFW art uncensored!! <;33

Lmk if you wanna be added to the tag list!! Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated!

This story will contain sexual themes and smut in the future, which is why it is being posted onto my 18+ account rather than my SFW account. Thank you <33

Genre: Comedy, Romance (Fluff + Smut), Angst

Warnings: None (that I know of, lmk if there is thanks)

Word Count: 1467

++++

“I got invited to a party tonight!” You exclaimed excitedly to Lucifer. You and Lucifer were researching the weekend. It was 5 pm on a Saturday when you got a text that your coworkers were going to a club tonight. “It’s happening at 8! I need to find an outfit-”

“You’re not going,”

“What?” You look at Lucifer with an offended look. “Why not?”

“We have work to do,” He stated. “You going to a party isn’t helping me get home.”

“But I want to live my life-”

“As do I, but I’m unable to when you ripped me away from it,” Lucifer harshly replied, looking at the paperwork in front of him and the different spells he was ready to test. His eyebrows furrowed, and his unused hand balled into a fist.

“Please? You can come too if you want,” You offered in a sweet and shy voice. “It could be a good break for the both of us.”

Lucifer wanted to fuck you badly, but he couldn’t get himself to initiate it. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t find a time. So, he took a different route. Get you to dislike him. “No,”

“What happened to you not hating me? Last weekend, you were so kind and took care of me when I was sick and told me you didn’t hate me, and now you’re being a massive asshole again.” You complained, standing up from your seat in annoyance. “We were doing fine the next day, but this whole week, you’ve just been getting meaner and meaner until you became this fucking jackass.” You scolded him. He just ignored your words, even though he heard all of them and felt guilty about it.

“I’m going to the party, and if I don’t get home, it’s because I’m getting laid!” You shouted at him and stormed off to your room. You didn’t plan to get laid; you were just angry now and wanted to be frustrating to him.

Little did you know, that’s what got to him. Lucifer did not like the idea of you not coming home because that would mean you’re off having sex with someone else. He wanted to have sex with you. Fine. If you plan to get laid, he’ll go with you and make sure you get fucking laid.

When you left your room wearing a little black dress, red heels, and some adorable jewelry, you were not expecting Lucifer to be waiting in the living all dressed up as well. Instead, he chose to mix the clothes he arrived in and the clothes you bought him when needed. He looked fucking sexy. But so did you.

Lucifer turned to face you when he heard you exit your room, and his lips parted slightly as he looked at you. How the dress hugged your curves, how the heels made your legs look so fucking good, and realized it was going to be a hard night in more than one way. He needed to get himself together before it got hard now.

“Are you going somewhere?” You asked with a judgmental tone.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and stood up, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt while he walked towards you. “I’m going with you.”

“Why?” You looked at him in almost disgust. “Because I said I was going to get laid?” You chuckled as a joke. You didn’t expect him to agree.

“I’m not going just to let you go home with a stranger from a club just so you can have some angry sex,” He rolled his eyes.

Your jaw dropped. “What do you mean angry sex?”

“Well, you’re angry at me, are you not? So you’re having sex to get back at me?”

“Not everything is about you, Lucifer! Get off your fucking high horse!” You shouted at him again, quickly walking past him to your door. But, unfortunately, he followed unfazed. “Just leave me alone,”

“No, I don’t think I will,”

“Oh, fuck off.”

++++

“And who’s this fella?” One of your coworkers poked at Lucifer’s chest with a smirk on their face.

You pushed their hand off of Lucifer awkwardly and replied, “That’s my roommate.”

Her jaw dropped. “That’s Lucy? I thought you were rooming with a girl, not a sex God,”

“A sex God?” Lucifer asked in curiosity, but he was uncomfortable.

“Okay, Cassy, that’s enough interacting with Lucy for the day,” You shooed her away. “Sorry about that. She’s kind of a handful.”

“Noticed,” Lucifer simply responded to you. You two stood at the bar and watched your coworkers on the dance floor for a while. “You aren’t going to join them?”

You chuckled a tiny bit. “I’m going to need a bit of liquid courage before I can do that,”

Lucifer, at first, didn’t see the problem until he thought deeper into it. If he were lucky enough to fuck you tonight, he wanted to ensure you were completely sober. “I’ll go with you,” He proposed. You quickly looked at Lucifer, who faced you slowly and slyly. He held a cool smirk to himself. Lucifer then offered you a gloved hand. “Shall we?”

You were thankful that the club was dark, so Lucifer couldn’t see how hard you were blushing. He did see your blush; he just won’t tell you. You took his hand and let him lead you to the bumping dance floor.

The dancing between you too was lovely. This was the most relaxed you had seen Lucifer be in the last two months you had known him. His smirk was attractive, and so was the way he moved.

And shit was Lucifer horny. Watching you dance with him and the way you moved your body. He could feel himself getting hard at the thought of you touching him and sucking him off in that little black dress as he took a fistful of your hair and face fucked you. Why won’t you leave his head?

Lucifer took your hand in his and pulled you to him roughly. He spun you around, so your back faced him, and held you flush against his chest. He took your hands and lifted them to have them hold onto his neck while he gripped your waist and began to grind against your ass.

You gasped at his actions, feeling an already half-hard cock rub against you, but didn’t pull away. “You look absolutely ravishing tonight, MC.” Lucifer leaned down to your ear to whisper those words. Your breathing got heavy, and you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks and an all too familiar feeling at your core. He hummed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you felt his erection grow harder every second he continued to grind against your ass. “If you’re going to get laid by anyone, it’s going to be by me.”

You shouldn’t want this; you shouldn’t crave this; you shouldn’t want him to fuck you into oblivion. You wanted to go home, but didn’t want to go because he wanted to have sex with you. You wanted to go home because you were a ball of embarrassment. So, you pushed away from his grasp and turned to face him, refusing to meet his eyes. “I don’t think we should do this,” You shouted to make sure he could hear you over the music and the chatter of the patrons. “Um, I want to go home and go to bed now. Are you okay with that?”

No, he wasn’t. His dick was hard, and he wanted to tear that dress off of you and have his way with your body. But, of course, he won’t tell you. “Okay,”

++++

Arriving at your apartment, you pretended that the scene with Lucifer at the club never happened. “I’m going to go get ready for bed,” You began talking as you started to take off your heels. “This dress is uncomfortable, and my feet are killing me.” You chuckled slightly, heading towards your room.

“I suppose I’ll get ready for bed as well then,” Lucifer responded, immediately beginning to take off his top pieces before you even made it to your room. He usually changed in the bathroom, but he was stripping in front of you.

“Hey, wait for me to get to my room before you start undressing,” You covered your eyes and laughed.

“Why, you aren’t interested in seeing me without a shirt again?” He then let out a small chuckle, though it was deep and incredibly teasing. You blushed hard. “Just by that reaction, I know the answer.”

“Shut up, just don’t undress in front of me dick wad,” You groaned, uncovering your eyes to bolt to your room. Lucifer laughed in response at your flustered state while you two got ready for bed and called it a night.

++++

Tag List: @sassykattery , @dfgdfgxftdd , @karmasadistic69 , @sayumiht , @naruucore , @alyssatjuhhh , @alexus4real

Next Part

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #lucifer x mc #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #lucifer x reader

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lucacangettathisass · 5 years ago

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How The Light Gets In (ch.5)

SUMMARY: After your home is ransacked by a group of strange men, you and your cousin are taken in by a group of outlaws. And that’s when the trouble really starts.

PAIRINGS: John Marston x Fem!Reader, Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE, CHAPTER FOUR

TAGGING: @mountainhymn if you would like to be tagged in future chapters please lmk!

NOTES: What’s that sound you ask? Why, that’s the sound of me shooting myself in the goddamn foot for not watching a playthrough of chapter one to actually see what happens so I can write everything out accurately. oh well. description of stitching up a wound in this chapter, don’t know if it’s entirely accurate but i did feel a little nauseous while writing it so just a warning (of course im already sick so that might have something to do with it but eh). as always reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated, if you like the work, share it!

Later, you learned that the man Mr Morgan had brought back with him, Mr Duffy, claimed to have only been with the O’Driscolls for a few months, and that he hated their leader, Colm, as much as the rest of the gang. However, Mr Van Der Linde appeared to be unconvinced, and decreed that poor Mr Duffy was to be tied up in the barn with some of the other horses, and denied all food and drink.

You felt rather sorry for him. After all, he was on a snow-covered mountain, surrounded by enemies that were heavily armed. The least that Mr Van Der Linde could do was allow him some comforts, at least in your mind.

When you shared these thoughts with Sadie that night, quietly, and away from the other women, her mouth contorted into a cruel sneer. You knew it wasn’t meant for you, but you flinched all the same. “He’s an O’Driscoll.” She snarled. “You don’t owe him nothin’, least of all your pity.”

Maybe she was right. Sadie always said you had a bad habit of wanting to fix people. But then you thought of the look of terror on Mr Duffy’s face when he saw Mr Van Der Linde, like he truly thought he was about to meet his maker, and you couldn’t find it within yourself to hate him the way you hated the O’Driscolls that had taken advantage of your willingness to help them, and killed Jake. Those men had been made of something meaner than whatever it was Mr Duffy had in him.

You hoped he would live long enough to prove you right.

“I ain’t waitin’ any longer.”

You looked up Miss Roberts, pausing in your braiding of Sadie’s hair. “Miss Roberts?”

If she heard you she showed no reaction, just wrung her hands and paced. “It’s been too long, someone should be out there looking for him.”

“That ain’t your decision to make.” Miss Grimshaw said sternly, lighting herself a cigarette.

“Hosea said he would send someone out if John wasn’t back, and he ain’t back!” Miss Roberts argued, with more force than you expected.

“Miss Roberts,” you started gently, “I’m sure Mr Matthews is already organising to have someone go out looking for him. He understands how worried you are.”

This seemed to placate Miss Roberts somewhat, but she was still clearly fretful. “I-I just don’t like it is all. It’s cold out there, and who knows what kind of trouble he could get into.”

She had a point. The cold and thick snow alone were causes for concern, but you knew that wolves lurked on the mountain range as well, and you had heard whispers of a deadly gang hiding out in one of the more remote parts of the wilderness. You had a hard time deciding which would be worse to run into.

Just as you felt the hairs on your body rise, the door opened before quickly closing, heralding the arrival of what could only be more gang members. It was odd, how quickly you had adjusted to being around outlaws.

You recognized Mr Morgan, Mr Matthews, and the well-groomed man, and they were handing out bowls of the same warm soup from the day before. The well-groomed man approached you and Sadie, a bowl in each hand.

“Thank you.” You said, taking both and handing one to Sadie.

“Arthur!” Miss Roberts was almost immediately at Mr Morgan’s side. “H-How you doing?”

Mr Morgan raised an eyebrow before giving Miss Roberts, Jack, and Miss Jackson bowls of soup. “Just fine Abigail. And you?”

“I need you to-” Miss Roberts was momentarily cut off by Mr Morgan scoffing slightly, but she remained undeterred. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry to ask-”

“It’s little John.” Mr Morgan sounded partly exasperated, partly amused, which confused you a little. “He’s got himself caught into a scrape again.”

To say you were surprised at Mr Morgan’s apparent lack of concern would be an understatement, and made you wonder what kind of relationship the two men had. But then, you knew men had a tendency to conceal how they truly felt, even about those they cared about, with very few exceptions.

“He ain’t been seen in two-” Miss Roberts cut herself off as her voice rose, and you could see her make a mighty effort to calm herself. “In two days.”

“Your John’ll be fine.” Mr Morgan insisted. “I mean, he may be as dumb as rocks, and as dull as rusted iron, but that ain’t changing because he got caught in some snowstorm!”

You exchanged a glance with Sadie, and she also seemed surprised at how blase Mr Morgan was being.

“At least go take a look.” Everyone turned their attention to Mr Matthews. “Javier?”

For a moment you were confused, before you heard a “Yes?”, and realized that it had come from the well-groomed man. This made you realize that he was none other than Javier Escuella, the Mexican man Miss Grimshaw had told you about.

“Javier, will you ride out with Arthur, to take a look for John?” Mr Matthews looked from Mr Morgan to Mr Escuella. “You’re the two best fit men we’ve got.”

“Now?” Mr Escuella sounded reluctant, but whether that was because of the conditions or his own feelings towards his missing comrade you couldn’t say.

“She’s...we’re all...we’re pretty worried about him.” Mr Matthews put a hand on Miss Roberts’s shoulder, and you were touched at the show of affection.

Mr Escuella nodded, his previous reluctance apparently forgotten as he approached Mr Morgan. “I know if the situation were reversed and…” He handed Mr Morgan a gun, which you had no idea he had on him, and your eyes widened at the sight of it. “He’d look for me.”

Mr Morgan sighed, but he took the gun from Mr Escuella all the same, and the two men made for the door.

“Thank you!” Miss Roberts smiled, and it warmed your heart to see it.

“Mr Morgan!” You spoke before you could stop yourself, just as Mr Escuella had his hand on the door handle. “You-you can borrow Gladys if you want.”

Mr Morgan seemed surprised at the offer and raised a brow. “You think she’ll let me?”

“I think she knows how she should behave from now on.” You said confidently. “Just-just tell her I said to let you ride her.”

Mr Morgan appeared skeptical, but he nodded, and with a short burst of cold air, he and Mr Escuella were gone.

“Is Papa coming home?” Jack looked up at his mother, eyes filled with hope.

“Here’s hoping.” Abigail sat back down and brought her son into her lap, cradling him.

“Gonna need more than hope.” Sadie said.

“Sadie!” You scolded, glancing back at Jack to see his reaction.

“What? You know I’m right.” She looked at everyone else. “That’s rough terrain out there, even without a snowstorm. Throw in the animals that are out there, and those boys are gonna have their work cut out for them.”

You frowned, wholly disapproving of Sadie’s pessimism. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” You said, with more firmness than you usually use. You smiled kindly at Jack and Miss Roberts. “Mr Morgan and Mr Esceualla sound like very capable men, I doubt they’ll have much trouble.”

Sadie made a noise of skepticism but said nothing, possibly sensing your displeasure.

Even if what she said was true, that didn’t mean she had to say it.

As the hours ticked by, you became more and more anxious, wondering what had befallen Mr Morgan and Mr Escuella in their search for their friend. You occasionally glanced over at Miss Roberts and Jack to see how they were feeling, but they were being comforted by Mr Matthews so you had no real cause for concern.

The whole time you thought of Sadie’s words. You had always tried to be optimistic, after all, people who are positive are far more pleasant to be around than those that aren’t, but you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that she was right. That perhaps the worst had happened, and that Mr Morgan and Mr Escuella would return with a corpse. If they returned at all.

Just as the world outside got darker and you were beginning to consider turning to prayer, you heard yelling from outside. You couldn’t make out what was being said, but you had a feeling you knew what was afoot.

You watched as Mr Matthews and Miss Roberts rushed outside, Jack only being held back because of Miss Jackson. You all exchanged glances, and seemed to be holding a single collective breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

After what had felt like entirely too long, the door swung open, revealing a relieved Mr Matthews. That was promising.

“He’s gonna need your help Susan.” He said to Miss Grimshaw. He seemed to pause before turning to you. “Are burned hands all you can treat?”

A little surprised, it took you a moment to register that he had said and formulate a response. “I-No. I can do other things too.”

“What about scratches? Deep ones. From animals.”

You swallowed. “I have a friend who likes to hunt.” You said. “I’ve had to fix him up plenty of times.”

This seemed to be enough for Mr Matthews and he nodded. “You can come help too then.”

Despite being somewhat hesitant, you nodded. When you stood, you felt a hand on yours. You looked down and saw Sadie giving you a stern look. “You don’t have to help everyone who asks.” She said in a low voice.

“We owe them.” You reminded her. “I’ll be fine.” You gave her hand a reassuring pat before pulling away, following Miss Grimshaw out into the snow.

You managed to catch a glimpse of Gladys, and noticed that she was tied to the hitching post. You vaguely wondered if she was behaving because she knew how bad the situation was, and if she would go back to her usual ways once you were all out of the woods.

The building across from the one you were staying in with the other women was just as dubious looking as all the others, and only a little larger. You supposed that there were men than women in this gang, which didn’t really surprise you.

Once inside, you hung back a little, not wanting to overly insert yourself in what was clearly a delicate matter. You stayed at the edge of the small group that had formed, unable to see past them.

“Come on now, let Susan get a good look at him.” Mr Matthews said, urging everyone to stand aside. “Looks like he’ll need some stitches and a splint for the leg.”

The group parted, allowing Miss Grimshaw to get closer, and you tentatively followed behind.

Lying on a cot against the back wall was a tall, wiry looking man, with dark hair, and three deep cuts on his face. He was looking up at Miss Grimshaw before his dark eyes traveled to you. “Who’s this?” He asked, voice raspy and hoarse.

“[Name] [Surname].” Mr Matthews said. “She and her cousin Sadie will be with us for a while. [Name], meet John Marston.”

“How do you do Mr Marston.”

Mr Marston snorted.

You swallowed nervously. “Do-do we have any morphine? Or anything else that could ease the pain?”

“No.” Miss Grimshaw said, with surprising sharpness. “He’s going to have to cope without.”

Her reaction was confusing but you didn’t have time to dwell on it as a bottle of whiskey was quickly produced.

Miss Grimshaw uncorked the bottle and poured the contents over the bloody wounds, making Mr Marston clench his jaw and cringe.

You instinctively put a hand on his arm and gently squeezed. “It will be over soon.” You said soothingly.

“What happened to him?” You heard Miss Roberts ask.

“Wolves apparently.” Mr Morgan said, with a surprising amount of annoyance. “Couldn’t seem to be able to handle them on his own.”

“And his horse?”

“Wolves got her.” Mr Marston replied through clenched teeth. “Broke my leg when I got to the ledge where Arthur and Javier found me.”

You gazed at Mr Marston in amazement. Through freezing cold, a broken leg, wolves, and no doubt starvation, he managed to hold onto life. You couldn’t imagine the kind of mental fortitude that would require. ‘He’s so brave.’ You thought breathlessly. ‘Incredible…’

You watched as Miss Grimshaw stopped pouring the whiskey and got out a needle and thread. She sanitized the needle with a few drops of the alcohol before passing over to you. “Go on.” She said. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Now feeling every pair of eyes on you, you took the needle and thread, turning back to Mr Marston as you knelt beside him. “You’ve done very well so far.” You said.

He snorted again. “I ain’t done nothing.”

“You’ve survived.” You pointed out. “I wouldn’t call that nothing.”

You threaded the needle and tied off the end before leaning in closer to Mr Marston. It was obvious that the wounds would leave lasting scars, but if you did this right, then they shouldn’t be too bad. You would dare say that they would add a certain level of mystique and intrigue to him, as even while he was in this state you knew he was very handsome.

‘Stop it.’ You told yourself. ‘He already has someone. Now focus you silly girl.’

You lined up the needle as carefully as you could. “Let me know if it gets to be too much.” You said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Mr Marston gave no reaction that time.

Slowly, you pierced the skin, leading the needle and thread through the gaping wound, pulling out the other end and giving a slight tug to make sure it was properly taut and closed. You looked at Mr Marston, and saw that his jaw was once again clenched, and his knuckles were now white from gripping the cot. But he made no sound, and barely moved a muscle.

You continued with the stitches, silently in awe of the constitution Mr Marston had. You had no doubt that he had acquired it over his time as an outlaw, but it impressed you nonetheless. However, you were still careful in your movements to make sure you didn’t cause him any more pain, and made sure to watch what you were doing. Dexterity wasn’t something you lacked, far from it really, but you knew to still be cautious and make sure the thread didn’t tangle or get caught or leave too much of a gap for the wound to heal properly.

“You’re very lucky.” You said as you were close to completing the last stitch. “Things could have been much worse.”

Mr Marston grunted. “Sure don’t feel lucky.” He said, moving his jaw as little as possible so you could finish up the stitch properly.

“Don’t coddle him too much now Miss.” You heard Mr Morgan say from somewhere behind you. “Dutch does that enough.”

A sharp look came over Mr Marston’s features, but it was soon gone.

The dynamic between the two men continued to puzzle you, although you supposed you would be able to make more sense of it over time.

You tied off the last bit of thread and cut off the excess so that it wouldn’t irritate Mr Marston. You gently took his face and turned it slightly at different angles, to see if there was anything else that needed treating. You kept your touch feather light as your fingers skimmed over Mr Marston’s skin, looking for anything that might be a cause for concern. When you were satisfied that there was nothing else amiss, you pulled away, taking the needle and thread and returning them to Miss Grimshaw. “That’s all I can do I’m afraid.” You said apologetically. “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

Mr Marston said nothing, just stared at you intensely, and you noticed his throat moving to indicate swallowing, but you couldn’t think of a reason as to why he would.

You rose from the floor, legs slightly numb and aching but you ignored it and backed away, allowing Miss Roberts to be by Mr Marston’s side.

Miss Grimshaw exchanged a few hushed words with Mr Matthews before approaching you. “You did well.” She said, and she sounded genuinely impressed.

You flushed a little at the praise and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Knees not feeling too bad?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m fine. I’ve spent a lot of time on my knees.” You thought of the hours you spent as a child praying, and how the kneeling position became almost comfortable, unlike just now. Of course, back then you weren’t as cold and the floors weren’t as rough, so that probably had something to do with it.

As you left the building with Miss Grimshaw to return to the other women, you looked back over your shoulder at Mr Marston. “He needs a proper doctor.” You said in a hushed tone, not wanting anyone to hear and cause panic.

“Once we’re off this damn mountain he’ll see one.” Miss Grimshaw said firmly. “But for now, you’ll have to do.”

The thought of being Mr Marston’s doctor made you swallow thickly, but you nodded, not wanting to talk back. “Yes ma’am.”

The thaw couldn’t come quick enough.

#john marston x reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead fanfic #rdr fic #red dead redemption 2 fic #fic: how the light gets in

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