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aggravatetheaxe · 3 years

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BO SINCLAIR X TRANS MAN / MAN ALIGNED READER COMING OUT - Pt. 1 - Under Your Skin

This title is SAFE FOR WORK. Pt. 2, Over the Moon, will be NSFW. I'll link that here when it's written!

You met Bo while you were still presenting as a woman. Suffice to say things have changed, and you can't keep your secret from him any longer. You have no choice but to tell him or leave ... but what if he makes you leave anyway?

CW: descriptions of dysphoria that get very intense, deadnaming/misgendering, mentions of murder and mortal peril, it's 2005 and Bo is from the south so just be advised it's not all fluff and rainbows (but there is payoff, this isn't straight angst, it's just a journey)

Soundtrack: x

Words: 4,175

Part Two

Masterlist

***

Your shoulders were stiff. Your throat was dry. Your leg was bouncing, the only thing you could do to release the nervous energy juttering through your body.

You were going to tell him.

You'd put it off for months now, not quite sure how to say the words. Then, when you'd arranged them in your head, fear had kept you from saying them out loud. But you couldn't wait anymore. You couldn't live like this any longer.

You'd been hiding the secret for too long. Every time Bo called you by your birth name or made some quip about you being his girl, your heart shriveled just a little more. It had gotten to the point where you didn't even want compliments from him ... you didn't want to talk. You didn't even really want to sleep with him, didn't like to think about him looking at you as a woman during sex.

He didn't know, of course. But that almost made it worse. He couldn't stop hurting you and you couldn't yell at him for it. It was always the same: you lost control, you got frustrated, wouldn't tell him why, he'd get frustrated, you'd fight ... it was a mess. You knew all that was putting a strain on your relationship.

So it had to be tonight.

It had to be tonight.

You had everything planned. You'd already gone into town with Lester and picked up some stuff for a nice dinner; there was a fresh, cold six-pack of Bud in the fridge; and Rocky III was sitting in the VHS player, ready to go. Once he was relaxed, you'd talk to him.

You'd convinced yourself so fully that you'd stick to the plan that when you heard his truck pull up and your heart leapt into your throat, you nearly cried. Fuck, not again. Not another night. You were supposed to be stronger than this.

Stomping boots on the porch. You heard the door swing open from the kitchen. "I'm home."

He didn't sound like he was in a particularly good mood, but it didn't sound like a bad one, either. That was good news, at least. Things must have gone okay down at the shop. "I'm in here!" you called back.

Bo appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, tracking a little gravel into the house as always. He leaned against the doorframe with one hand on his hip, gesturing with his chin. "Hey, sugar. What you got there?"

You looked down at the meal you were plating. "I thought I'd try a pot roast? I dunno. I don't think it came out very good, but I guess we'll see."

He didn't say anything. You glanced over your tense shoulder to see him simply staring at you, like he was trying to read your thoughts. You could sense the gears in his head turning behind those clever blue eyes of his. He knew there was something wrong; you were guarded.

For a moment, you thought he might say something. That familiar little bit of irritation was beginning to creep into his face, right around his neck and jaw. But after a few seconds, he simply said, "A'right," and straightened. "M'gonna go change."

"'Kay." As he stomped up the stairs, you finished getting the food ready and brought the plates to the living room. Bo usually ate at the table—"I ain't a savage"—but you could tell he liked eating on the couch. It was like a special treat. And clearly, you were short on charm at the moment, so you'd have to use your environment to your advantage.

You pulled up two tray tables and set the food down, then fetched the beer. By the time everything was set up, Bo was coming back down the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to look at him. He was wearing jeans and a red flannel, sleeves rolled up. At this point, he didn't care about you seeing his scars. You hardly noticed them anymore.

He came closer and slowed to a stop, forehead wrinkling as he eyed your set-up. "What's all this about?"

"I was thinking dinner and a movie." You paused. "I thought Rocky might get the taste of my cooking out of your mouth."

You succeeded in making him laugh a little, crow's feet crinkling, but as he took a step closer, his smile faded. "Did you do somethin'? Is somethin' broken?" He glanced quickly, running his gaze over the clutter his parents had left behind.

"Nothing's wrong," you reassured him quickly, stepping back into his line of sight in the hopes of distracting him. "I just thought, you know, we could have a nice night. Like ... romantic?"

He stared at you for a moment. Then, his gaze lit, a toothy smile appearing. "Romantic, huh? Well hell, sweetie, why didn't ya say so?"

He clearly thought you meant sex. In fact, the way he was looking at you, you thought he'd jump you right up against the pool table if you let him. Your dysphoria made sex so unbearable that you'd been avoiding it when you could lately, and you were sure he missed it.

You were lucky he hadn't gotten mean yet. You guessed that was a testament to how much he must like you. But who knew if he'd like you after tonight?

Quickly, you shoved a beer into his hand, redirecting his attention as you slid onto the couch and clicked play. He slid into place beside you, relaxing back with his legs spread.

You both picked at your food—you because you were way too nervous to eat, and him because ... well, you assumed it was because he was waiting for you to initiate the "romance." He did eventually finish his meal, though, complimenting you with one of his "So good, baby"s and a boozy kiss.

The movie droned on, and eventually, he wrapped an arm around you. As he did, you relaxed, if only a little. You wanted to settle into him ... you wanted it more than anything in the world. You did love him. But who did he love? The woman he thought he was putting his arm around wasn't you.

"What's wrong?" His tone was firm and sudden after such a long stretch of silence.

You blinked at him. "Nothing."

He wasn't buying it, and he didn't look impressed. "There's no point in lyin'a me, darlin'. I know when somethin' ain't right." Then, with a little edge to his voice, "You know I get pissed when you brush me off."

"I'm just..." You sighed, setting your beer aside and rubbing your forehead. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Let's go to bed, then." In one fluid motion, he stood and turned off the TV. "Hope you're not too tired," he added quietly.

It was equal parts insult, warning, and come-on, and it exhausted you as much as it panicked you. You weren't ready to tell him just yet. You'd figured you still had a few hours, but ... well, if you pissed him off now, all this nice set-dressing had been for nothing. Then you'd either have to tell him while he was in a bad mood or spend another night as someone you weren't.

Biting back a sigh, you stood, too. He was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, and let you go up first.

"Nice view from back here," he said smoothly. "Almost wanna tell you to start runnin'."

Shit. You needed an excuse to buy yourself a little time. "Can you shower first?"

You knew the question ticked him off because he didn't answer it. He followed you to your shared room, grabbed a towel, and left for the bathroom in heated silence.

The shower would make him feel better. It always did. He'd scald himself like he liked, then come out much calmer. Hopefully. You changed and took your place in bed, sitting under the blankets with your pillow propping you up. Waiting.

You were wrong about the calm. When he came back into the bedroom—red-skinned and completely naked, towel occupied in his hair—he was scowling at the floor. You waited for him to yell. It was inevitable.

When he did finally say something, his tone was quieter than you imagined, though simmering. "Why are you doin' this to me?"

You didn't respond, mostly because you had no idea which this he was talking about.

"Hurts my pride, y'know." He began toweling his body. Rather roughly, you noticed. "My girl don't wanna fuck me. You know how that feels as a man? You think I wanna have to— hurt you?"

A pause. "Bo..."

"Am I gonna have to get it somewhere else? Fuck, Deadname."

You shrank in bed. That name made you feel rotten to the core. It was like poison slowly choking your veins. You had to do this ... but you couldn't. But you had to.

Bo was unaware of the war going on inside of you as he turned, leaning against the dresser, arms back to clutch the edge. "Is it someone else?" You could tell he was murderous just thinking about that possibility, gaze aflame, jaw clenched so hard you thought he might break teeth. "Is it Vincent?"

"What? No!" Why he'd think that when you'd only ever expressed mild concern for Vincent's well-being, you had no idea. "There's no one else, Bo, I just—"

"Then what's a matter with you, huh?" He raised his voice. "Am I too rough, am I too— Jesus Christ, you gotta at least tell me what the damage is!"

Your conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm you. You yelled back, "It's not you!"

"Then what the hell is it?!"

"It's me!"

He opened his mouth to shout back, but only managed, "What in the f—" before he lost steam, searching your face helplessly. Something about the way you looked must have given him pause. You meant what you said. Desperately, desperately. It was you. You were the problem.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, glare pointed. "You been off all night. Hell"—one of those incredulous laughs that betrayed his genuine anger—"you been off for a while. Least you can do is tell me what the fuck is goin' on."

He was right. No turning back now. You took a deep, grounding breath. "Okay."

A moment of hesitation. Did you want him close or across the room like that, just in case? Eventually, you decided you needed him close. You patted the bed beside you.

Bo grabbed a pair of boxer-briefs, stepping into them on his way over. His expression was still twisted sourly, but you could sense him relax as he sat in bed next to you. He didn't meet your eye, simply looking down at the sheets. Beneath the anger, a begrudging expectation simmered. Did he think you were going to break things off?

That thought spurred you into taking his hand, squeezing lightly. "I love you so fucking much."

He glanced to the side. At length, he mumbled, "You, too."

You took another deep breath, trying to keep your voice from shaking. "There's something I haven't told you about me. And it's really been stressing me out lately. That's why I've been acting so weird." When he didn't reply, you continued, "It's been making it ... hard to be close to you. I don't like the way lying to you makes me feel, and I've been ... scared, so fucking scared, Bo."

He glanced at you again, brows drawn, this time with confusion rather than anger. "So what is it? What the hell can be so big an' important that you can't stand bein' around me?" A pause. "I mean shit, Deadname, you know I kill people for a livin'. My fucked up twin turns 'em into wax. You know about the fuckin' dungeon—what could be bigger'n that?"

That fucking name. You couldn't take it anymore. Your voice cracked as you whispered, "You need to stop calling me Deadname."

"What? Why?" He frowned deeply. "That's your name, ain't it?"

"It's not the name I want to be called."

You could almost hear the gears in his head turning as he tried to figure out what was going on. "Okay ... so it ain't your real name. Why you goin' around using a fake name?" His gaze turned flinty and cold. "You're a cop."

"No!" You held up your hands. "No, I didn't lie about who I was, not ... not in the way you're thinking. I was born with that name; everything I've told you about my life and where I came from, all those things were true. I never lied about any of that."

"Then what is it?" He was getting angry again. "Spit it out!"

Well, since he asked... "I don't want to use that name because ... it's a woman's name. And I'm not a woman. I'm a man."

Bo stared for a few seconds, then scanned you up and down once. His shoulders slumped, just slightly. "You were ... born a man? Then how come your name—"

"No, no." You pursed your lips, taking his hand hesitantly again. "I was ... I guess for simplicity's sake you could say I was born a girl. I was born with a vagina, I developed breasts and started my period naturally. But I'm not a girl. Like, in my head. In my brain, I'm actually a man."

He didn't believe you. You could see it in his face. But you weren't planning on giving up that easily. You knew what he'd be thinking; you'd planned this whole thing out so carefully, chosen your words so precisely.

"It's not ... a delusion or anything. It's actually more common than people think. It's called being transgender. When you're born one gender but you want to be another."

He frowned, obviously completely lost. He wasn't getting it. He just didn't fucking understand. And you were growing desperate.

"Bo." Your throat was raw, tears threatening your eyes. "Every time you call me your girl, or you refer to me as a woman, or you use that name ... I fucking hate it. It hurts. It hurts so goddamn bad to know you're not seeing the real me. It makes me not see the real me. I look in the mirror and I just want to ... tear my skin off. Sometimes I just wanna take a knife and— and fix me. Cut out whatever part of me makes it hurt so bad. I just want to be seen as who I am so bad."

"Okay." You didn't like the way he was looking at you, but the anguish in your voice had at least moved him to speak. You could see in his eyes that he was working overtime to puzzle this out. "So, what? What're you gonna do? What's it mean for us?"

"Well..." You had to break eye contact, staring down at his hand. "What I'd like to do is start living as a man. You know, dressing like a man—which I already pretty much do—going by a different name, maybe cutting my hair. You could call me 'he' ... I might even get medicine later on down the line, like hormones, to make me look squarer. Maybe even surgery."

"You gonna get a dick?" The almost mocking tone of his voice made you want to shrivel up and die. He seemed to pick up on the change in your body immediately and shifted his tone. "I'm askin'."

"No, that's not a thing. But I'm gonna be a man regardless." Finally, you released his hand, though you still couldn't look at him. "What that means for us is ... up to you, I guess. It'd mean you were dating a guy. I mean, you have been this whole time—"

"I didn't fucking know," he cut in firmly.

A jolt of fear lanced your heart. "I know. That's my fault; I didn't tell you. I was ... scared."

"Scared of what?" he pressed, tone growing aggressive.

"I don't know. Of you being mad. Or not loving me anymore." You glanced up. "I love you. Seriously, I do. More than anything. I still want to be with you, just ... as a man."

There was silence. A horrible, stretching, heavy silence that made you want to hang your head and cry. After a while, Bo rose from bed, going to the dresser and pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, all in that silence.

Was he ... leaving you? No, he wouldn't leave his own house, he'd make you leave. Or kill you. But he certainly wasn't opening his arms to you. Waves of sadness crashed over your chest, so intense you thought you'd throw up.

He seemed to contemplate the dresser for an extended period. Then, he glanced over his shoulder, just barely. "I need ta' think."

And with that, he was out the door. He didn't come back to bed that night. The next morning, you found his pillow on the couch.

***

Vincent was next on your list of people to tell. It turned out he was a big help, bigger than you could have ever realized he would be. You had to explain yourself, but he took it in stride, calling you by your new chosen name and even helping you come up with a sign for it.

« Did you tell Bo? » he eventually asked you.

"I told him last night." Your eyes were still puffy and red from your night alone, and the morning following it. You still hadn't seen him, but you could hear music blaring from the garage, so you at least knew where he was.

« How did he take it? »

"He isn't speaking to me."

Vincent paused. His wax face was blank as always, but you could tell he was considering something. « Did he yell? »

"No ... he just said he would think about it."

A low grunt, and Vincent nodded. « Then let him think. »

And he did think. He thought about it every night from then on. You could see him thinking during meal times, when you brought him lunch down at the shop, when he was watching TV. You noticed him zoning out in the middle of reading sometimes: paperback crunched and folded in one hand, other hand pressed to his grim mouth, those blue eyes glassy and staring at nothing. Thinking.

He hardly ever spoke to you outside of necessary communication. Before bed, he told you goodnight, but it was ... heavy. He didn't roll over to touch you or hold you anymore. The distance was yawning and heartbreaking, especially when you were alone. The silence was so pregnant with unsaid words and all his damn thoughts.

You wanted to ask if he was mad, but you didn't dare. He didn't seem mad, and you knew a thing or two about his moods. This seemed ... different. So you simply didn't say anything.

And then, one day...

"Hey, handsome."

His voice practically made you jump out of your skin. You, Vincent, and Bo—and sometimes Lester—divided who would have to go into the houses in Ambrose to dust and clean, and today was your day. He'd snuck up on you in the middle of oiling some of the rigs like he'd taught you.

"Uh. Hey." You managed a hasty smile, uncertain you'd actually heard him call you what you thought he had. "What're you doing here?" After a week of him barely speaking to you, it seemed odd that he'd start now.

Bo took a few steps in, looking away and reaching to fiddle with a knick-knack on a nearby side table. "Just thought I'd come check up on you. You are my, uh ... boyfriend, after all."

You stopped dead in the middle of spraying WD-40, staring over your shoulder. What?

When he felt you staring, he lifted his gaze. There was an uncertainty there, discomfort, along with a challenge. "What?"

"Nothing." You turned back to your work. After a few seconds, you added, "Thank you."

He didn't respond, but he eventually sidled up to you, surveying your work. "Not half bad. Yeah, you're doin' real good." He reached up to adjust his hat, and you could feel his gaze on you. "We'll make a man outta you yet."

You couldn't help it—your face burned. "Girls can maintain machinery, too, Bo."

"Yeah, I know that, but you—" An edge of irritation entered his voice. "Now you're just confusin' me."

You set down the WD-40 and turned, searching his face. By god, he really was trying, wasn't he? It was almost cute how bad he was at it, but he was trying. Vincent had been right.

"You never asked my name," you eventually muttered.

"Vincent told me it. Y/N." He said it again, rolling it around on his tongue. "Y/N ... in'erestin' choice. I guess it suits ya." A pause, and he lowered his voice. "Gonna take me some gettin' used to."

"That's okay," you said quickly. "As long as you're trying."

"Yeah, well..." Bo paused before reaching out, brushing his fingers through your hair. "Gonna miss all this."

You leaned into his hand. "I might not cut it. I haven't decided yet."

He grunted, continuing to brush his fingers through your hair. You could see his expression drift back to that thoughtfulness you'd gotten used to seeing. Eventually, he said, "Guess this makes me gay."

He sounded so begrudging and yet so decisive that you almost laughed in his face. Thankfully, you were able to bite back your reaction. "You don't have to be. You can be whatever you want. But ... if you stayed with me, it would mean you were attracted to at least one man, yeah."

"Fine." He pursed his lips, huffing through his nose. "Bi-sexual or whatever."

"You don't have to put a label on it right now. You've got time." You hesitated before taking his large hands in yours, bringing them to cup your jaw. "This ... you know ... it isn't something that has to happen overnight. I'm not asking that. It's a process for both of us ... a lot to get used to for both of us."

"Sure the hell is." He scoffed and shoved his hat up his forehead, scratching his hairline. "Now I want you to tell me somethin'. Why were you so damn scared of tellin' me?"

You took a breath. "I mean ... Bo."

"What?"

"I'm in the south ... alone, no family ... in a town where you could kill me if I pissed you off and no one would ever know." He made a face, but you pressed: "You know where I come from. Things are dangerous there, and things around here are even—"

"You think just 'cause you're in the country folks are gonna treat you different?" He sounded offended.

"Bo," you said again. "Let's not kid ourselves. How many guys do you know who would beat my ass if they found out? If they found out I liked other men, even."

"Couple assholes. But they ain't gonna bother you with me around. B'sides, plenty a' gays around here, like any other place ... they're just drillin' and weldin' and workin' the factories." He fixed you with a look. "Country don't mean stupid."

"Did you just quote The Stand?"

"No," he said hastily, taking his hat off and shoving it in the back pocket of his Dickies. "All I'm sayin' is ... I'm not some dumb animal."

Your shoulders sank, heart softening. "I know you're not, baby. But you have been known to, y'know, murder people. You can understand why I was scared, can't you?"

His mouth twitched, but reluctantly, he mumbled, "Yeah, I guess." A pause. "I can't promise I won't never hurt you, Deadn— Y/N. I know I can be real careless with my words on occasion. But I won't kill ya. Don' know if I could reconcile that shame. And, uh ... I love you."

Your heart swelled, and you leaned forward, hugging him tightly around the middle. It wasn't long until you felt his strong, warm arms enfold you in return, one hand tangling in your hair. His heartbeat was steady and comforting beneath your head, and the heat radiating from him relaxed every muscle in your body.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, hugging tightly while the TV droned in the background. Eventually, he shifted and spoke, his voice rumbling deliciously against you.

"Now if you don't mind," Bo started casually before dropping into a purr, "I'd like a kiss from my handsome lover."

You couldn't help but grin up at him. "You sure?"

"Lay it on me, big boy."

Maybe you were evil for loving him despite it all. Maybe you were complicit. Those weren't your judgments to make. But as you craned your neck to kiss him and euphoria exploded through your chest, you knew one thing for certain:

You were you.

***

Part Two

Masterlist

Tip Jar

#bo sinclair imagine #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #house of wax 2005 #slasher fic #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher imagine #written #vincent sinclair

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hewantshisbrideback · 3 years

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Jonrya AU: Other Engagements

Summary: The remaining Starks gather some time after the Long Night is won to discuss possible plans for marriages and alliances. With Jon crowned King of the Wall, ruling under Daenerys, High Queen of Westeros, discussion of who will reign by his side as queen over the north is paramount. But Jon is not the only wolf for whom a match must be made.

“Proposals," Rickon groaned and tossed back his head, auburn curls glinting. "My spear is still crusted with blood, and we're already talking of politics?"

"And how long a grace period were you expecting?" Arya snorted, shaking her head. Her dismissive words were born partially of relief.

She had been speaking with the washer women when Jon found her and pulled her away. He had lead her to a small, stony room, recently rebuilt, containing only two windows, a small side table of wood, and her siblings gathered around in a semi-circle as if for a ritual.

Her hackles had risen in an instant, but Bran had quickly laid her greatest fears to rest. There was no new tragedy to break their hearts, no new disaster to ravage their land; only the tedious intricacies of a civil society.

“A longer one,” the boy groused. Arya imagined that in his mind, there was likely no tragedy more agonizing than such tedious complexities.

“Oh? Are you inconvenienced?” She tilted her head at him. "Shall we postpone rebuilding the kingdom until the armory's polished nice and new?"

"Can we?" He asked. For a moment it was difficult for her to tell whether he was serious. Maybe the boy didn’t know himself. She cuffed him lightly over the head with a scoff just to be safe, and the grin that broke on his lips was wild.

Still, she had to admit he wasn’t exaggerating. Hardly a moon had past since the last dregs of the Others had been sighted, had been felled, and already there were talks of contracts, engagements, and promises between names she recognized only from war letters and fireside whispers.

During the blight, there had been hurried ceremonies in Great Halls, like that between Princess Val of the Free Folk and the gentle Willas Tyrell. However, there was no need for hushed vows in torch-lit gatherings anymore. What was left of the nobility, and whatever names had been gilded by the Long Winter, would want feasts, balls, parades through the streets.

Arya thought she almost preferred a quiet cloaking in the night. Perhaps that was only natural. After all, she had been present for the wedding of Val and Willas, and no better a pair had been made than they.

She recalled what a sight they’d been: the free woman’s flushed cheeks painted orange with firelight, the lord of the Reach’s nervous brown eyes pinned to his bride’s easy smile, rapt and adoring. They had danced for only a short song, but they had whispered all throughout, and had been whispering to each other ever since whenever she saw them.

The warrior princess and her lord of roses. She could count at least three songs that had been written of them since, the battles the lady fought and the bed of flowers her lord laid down for her, but none of them noted how they made each other laugh, how they sat at each other’s side like old friends.

"Bran is right,” Arya blinked from her thoughts in time to see Sansa grimace and continue, “We may have put aside our differences to face a greater threat, but that won't make for a lasting peace now that the threat is extinguished.”

"Fine," Rickon groused, then pursed his lips, surveying the room sullenly. "So, we're looking to pick up a queen already?"

Arya flinched, eyes snapping to Jon. Perhaps Rickon had been right to moan and whine. She knew her cousin would be married off eventually, now that he'd had a crown foisted onto him, but the idea of helping select his bride settled like shards of ice beneath her ribs. She cursed herself. How selfish she was. Finding a queen for the North was in the best interest of all who inhabited it, and here she was, unable to look at this as of yet faceless woman as anything but another competitor for Jon’s attention.

"A queen for the North?" Sansa contemplated, sounding as equally troubled as Arya felt. Her hopes that Sansa might object in her stead were dashed in an instant. "I suppose it bears discussing--”

"We can't," Arya blurted, panic coursing through her like lightning. Her siblings turned to stare at her. She flushed under their baffled eyes. Swallowing her shame and clearing her throat, she leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. "Well, we can't. We can't start making decisions yet. Not on our own. The dragons. They have a stake in this, too."

Jon lingered on her for a moment. She held her breath, brow cocked defiantly, but he made a noise of agreement that showed she need not have worried. "That's true. I'm heir, second to Aegon. Daenerys lets me keep my name, but she will want a say in who shares our blood all the same."

"You're right. It may be one day that the children of your union and hers are married themselves," Bran conceded. “It won't do to decide without her.”

Her sister nodded, expression poised and thoughtful. "That’s true. I suppose there should be some talk between us and her, even Aegon perhaps, before we think about who would be a suitable choice.”

The ice in Arya's chest melted, soft like relief, but colder and heavier, and she made an effort to ignore the stab of resentment at her sister’s next words.

“Jon, you can send her a message, invite her to share her thoughts. Of course, you could always visit her in person as well, if she prefers it.”

Jon's jaw ticked as he nodded, eyes flickering towards Arya, only to snap away as if it burned when she returned his gaze. For a moment, she was petrified. Had he noticed? Had he noticed how upset this talk of queens had made her?

"Alright," he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. "I'll draft a letter after supper."

His words were disappointing, and his tone was resigned, but it was also familiar. She felt her heart calm. It was no use to fret, over any of it. They were close, and given all that happened, it only made sense for her to be worried. She shouldn’t be afraid for him to see it.

And at least the decision itself had been delayed some, Arya thought, staring at the ceiling, even if only until Daenerys had enough time to consider the best use of her nephew.

"Great!" Rickon looked around at each of them. "That's that, then, isn't it?” Sansa tutted at him for his impatience, and Bran shook his head, and Rickon threw up his hands. “If we can’t do anything without the queen’s say-so, why stand here brooding over it now? Just wait until she tells you what to do."

“She’s not just going to tell us what to do.” Arya tried not to quibble over semantics with Rickon, as he was still learning the world of kings and courts, but she couldn’t stop herself this time. “Daenerys isn’t a tyrant. No doubt she has prospects in mind, but the choice is ultimately Jon’s.”

“Which is why it’s worth going over the options now,” Sansa added on, “to prepare ourselves for when we do make that decision.”

“And we will,” Bran intercut, "but we can afford to set it aside today. There are still some other arrangements we need to consider.”

“What arrangements?” Jon rumbled, but the stiff set to his jaw and the scowl inching onto his lips made it clear he had some idea and, evidently, disapproved already.

If Bran sensed his ire, he ignored it. “Arrangements for the rest of the Starks."

Arya blinked. She had seen the eyes of visiting nobles and their kin lingering on her brothers and her sister. Even she had received some curious glances. But somehow she’d still managed to overlook the obvious, managed to fool herself into thinking that they had more time.

“Are we really to be parted from each other so soon?” she murmured.

Bran gave her an appreciative glance tinged with grief, and in that glance she felt all those lonely years already spent apart, a splintered pack. After spending this many fighting so hard to reunite, she felt sick imagining any of her family leaving Winterfell. No wonder Jon was on edge.

“I don’t like it,” Rickon grumbled in tandem with her thoughts, and from the looks on everyone else’s faces, they weren't the only ones.

Sansa had folded in on herself, a brooding edge to her perfect mouth, but with Rickon’s complaint, she moved beside him, tucking his stray red curls behind his ear, a gesture that smacked of their late mother to a degree which hurt.

“Nevertheless,” she muttered after a moment, hand retracting and interlacing with the other, but she could not bring herself to follow through and continue the thought. No one could.

The room was still and heavy with preemptive sorrow, until Arya could bear it no longer. What would they do, sit in silence in this room until the fire dwindled and the sun set? There were meals to be had and men to appease, even just this evening, and waiting wouldn't stall the inevitable. Bran knew that. They all knew that. Sucking in a solemn, silent breath, she asked, “So then which of us is to be married first? And to who?”

Sansa opened her mouth, face wilted with regret, but Bran shook his head dismissing her, and the rest of them mirrored him. There was no need for a defense to be made.

“I’m well aware of the union between you and Sandor Clegane,” Bran assured her. “I would never ask you to break your vows. Aside from this, your first two marriages would have diminished your prospects regardless, one of which still needs to be annulled. Sansa is not an option. I mean you no offense, sister."

Sansa did not look offended. If anything, her expression spoke to some small, secret amusement. Arya was just glad that she wasn't weeping.

“No,” Bran continued, “by now, the attention of our allies has wandered to our other sister, Princess Arya.”

Arya was still beneath her brother’s cool, blue stare. She used to squirm whenever someone referred to her title aloud. By now, she’d nearly grown used to it. After all, she’d answered to far too many ill-fitting names to abandon Arya Stark for her accompanying titles, so she wasn’t left with much choice.

Now, something in her felt hollow, as though if the wind began to blow, it would whistle through her insides, and she’d be able to hum without using her mouth.

“They intend to offer their sons to Arya." Jon's words were slow and pointed and metered all the way through. “Have they no daughters for you or Rickon?”

“I did not say that they are not looking out for their daughters as well,” Bran reasoned, just as slowly and emphatic as his cousin had. “But of the three of us, Arya is the most attractive option. She cannot give them a royal title, but it’s no secret what she means to you, and the North at large, or that she’s earned the favor of Daenerys. Every wifeless heir on the continent will be interested.”

She must’ve imagined the way his fists clenched. Jon was smart. Men underestimated him, always, but he was smarter than all of them. He should've expected this, even if, somehow, she hadn’t. Of course suitors would seek a princess’s hand. It would not matter to them whether that hand was supple or calloused. Jon knew that. If he didn’t, he should’ve.

If the world had taught her anything, it had taught her that nothing staves the ambition of powerful men. Not even death. Not even ugliness.

“Good.” The word startled her, even more than her sister’s soft hand suddenly pressing to her cheek. But she smiled, albeit with closed lips, as Sansa's furrowed gaze swept over her features like she'd never seen them, like she was trying to absorb all she could for safe keeping. “You’ll have your pick of the lot.”

“Septa Mordane would be quaking to hear such talk of Arya Horseface,” Arya snorted in response, provoking a wry smile from Bran, an expression she sheepishly mirrored.

“Be serious, Arya,” Sansa huffed with a noble frown, hand falling from her face to clutch her wrist in earnest. Arya adjusted her clasp so that they held hands instead, and Sansa's thumb swept the back of her hand in search of comfort. “That silly, old nickname couldn’t be more ill-fitting. You’re quite pretty now.”

Jon made an ill-tempered rumbling noise, and Arya wanted to press him, but refrained in front of the others. He’d been reserved since he was a child, but ever since the Long Night began, he’d been downright secretive. She wouldn’t pry, at least not until she’d gotten him alone.

“It’s true," Rickon cut in, offering a rakish grin. “You should hear the free folk talk of you, sister. They say such things I’ve had to threaten to gut near half of them. They might’ve tried to steal you already, if they weren’t so frightened of Jon. And me, too, of course!”

The others stiffened, but Arya saw his assurance for what it was and spared a moment to thank the old gods for her littlest brother. Though her gratitude didn’t prevent her from rolling her eyes.

“The freefolk have a might different set of standards than the noble lords of Westeros. I can only hope that my reputation is not too far spread. It’s too much harder to see a she-wolf wed than a proper lady,” she drawled, letting go of Sansa as she paused and turned to him with a shrug. “Though I suppose in another world, a marriage with some wily freefolk warrior might've suited, and done well to unite the North.”

Rickon puffed up with pride, though on behalf of whom she had no idea.

“You can’t be serious,” Sansa huffed, then turned an admonishing glare on her brothers. “I know that you have all grown quite fond of the wildlings, having spent so much time with them, but however helpful they’ve been, there is hardly a suitable match for a lady amongst them.”

“A princess, now,” Bran reminded her, and Sansa nodded firmly.

“Suitable how?” A sneer curved on Rickon's mouth. “I’m not the one who wants to marry her off, but a free man can be good as any lord of Westeros. It wasn’t a wildling who tortured the poor girl in Arya’s stead, was it? And your good Joffrey was a prince. It seems that didn’t stop him from being vile.”

“Rickon!” Arya snapped in warning.

The youngest Stark stared her sister down, burning as remorselessly as the sun, but Sansa’s face was stone and her eyes blue flint.

“That is not what I meant,” she amended calmly. “Of course, the wildlings are no more capable of cruelty than the rest of us. That being said,” her words sharpened to points, like they were her talons, "the lords of Westeros will not stand to see one Stark sister married to a former knight and the other to a wildling. Not when order has just been settled and peace is still in question. If we marry Arya to a wildling, we spit in the faces of our Northern lords and our Southron neighbors both.”

“Aside from that, we don’t need another tie to the free folk,” Bran noted mildly. “With Tormund in our council, Val in the reach, and Jon their chosen king, their loyalty is as guaranteed as we could hope.”

Arya shrugged. “Well, as far as I've heard, if I were to be stolen, I'd hardly be in a position to refuse."

"Perhaps not, but I don't think Jon would be all too pleased to wake up and find you stolen by one of his subjects." Bran was watching Jon as if it were his sole, solemn duty. "I imagine they'd only get so far before he stole you back."

Jon flinched violently and it was a shock, how pale and harrowed he looked.

"It’s not like anyone could ever steal me away in the first place," Arya reminded him quietly, and when he looked at her, his mouth was pressed into a bitter facsimile of a smile.

“Unfortunately,” Rickon mumbled, and when Sansa and Jon simultaneously turned to glare, he merely scuffed his foot against the ground defiantly. "I mean it. At least then she could've stayed in Winterfell.”

Ridiculous boy. Arya nearly pulled him into a hug, but Bran interrupted her before she could move and his next words kept her still.

"It's not entirely out of the question,” he professed. “It’s possible she’ll find a suitor who will be able to reside in the North."

Arya felt her heart stutter. “You mean, like someone who’s not an heir?”

“No,” Sansa asserted. “If you snub the heir of one house for another’s second son, their entire territory will take it as an offense.”

“No, I was not specifically thinking along those lines,” Bran amended. “There are those with other circumstances under which you may be able to remain.” His eyes slid curiously to one of the windows as he tilted his head. "Ned Dayne, for example. We’ve received word that he intends to act in service to the Queen’s Greater Westerosi Council. You get along well, don't you?"

Jon stepped forward before she could reply, straightened to his full height. His stare was locked on her, stark and unyielding against the pallor of his cheeks, like stones atop snow dunes. "How do you know the Sword of the Morning?"

Arya felt apprehension tighten like a cord around her throat.

This had been the way since they’d reunited.

When Jon introduced her to his allies, she’d beamed like the sun. They had delighted her, despite her jealousy, for all the years she’d spent apart from him, that he’d been with them instead. The jealousy didn’t matter as much as the relief that he’d found friends. She took them as her own. She had been excited for him to do the same with hers. She had been so sure he would, it hadn’t even felt like hope. She’d just known.

But when she brought Jon to Gendry, explained who he’d been to her, he met the smith with suspicious words and a dark glare. When she told him of Hot Pie, or Lommy, or Weasel, or any of the number of sailors and whores from Braavos, he answered only with sarcasm and silence. And the Hound...

Now she’d be the first to point out that Sandor Clegane had not been her friend, or her ally, when they first travelled together. But she would also admit, begrudgingly, that he’d become something close by the time he accompanied her to the Wall with the Brotherhood. Jon had known that. Still, when Sansa brought the Hound into their home as her husband, Arya had heard the King of the Wall bellowing his objections from the other side of Winterfell.

"We travelled together, for a time," she replied carefully. Her tongue suddenly felt too big for her mouth. "Not very long.”

“When?” he prompted impatiently.

“When I was with the Brotherhood,” she confessed, “back when it was still lead by Beric Dondarrion.”

“You didn’t say anything.” In other circumstances, these words might’ve been a mere observation, or even an expression of concern, but here and now, they were an accusation.

He had mentioned the Sword of the Morning to her before in passing, but by that time, around the time poor Morgan Umber started running away whenever she waved in his direction, she had heard just about everything he had to say about her friends. So she had decided not to mention it. That would be easier.

Except now it looked like she’d been keeping secrets. She cursed the gods and all they stood for. “He wasn't the Sword of the Morning then — just a boy."

"Oh, just a boy," Rickon snorted. "Just another boy, you mean?"

Jon glowered but said nothing.

"That's right," Sansa tittered, with a sudden little smile. "You’ve collected so many. The blacksmith, the baker. Even that boy from House Umber. And now, the heir of Starfall."

"Gendry wouldn’t be a bad match either," Rickon piped up, a grin forming. Like Jon, he had been wary of the smith when Arya first introduced them, but unlike Jon, that had since changed. There was a higher degree of respect between the Free Folk and the Brotherhood than between either of them and any of the other factions. They worked together more easily, and more often, and Rickon was always with Osha and the free folk. Between this growing familiarity and Gendry's formidable reputations both as the Bull of the Brotherhood and the Arm of Stoneheart, a friendship had formed.

Her sister, on the other hand, had been entirely lukewarm when it came to the blacksmith. It was clear she saw him as beneath Arya’s station, but he was useful and she’d kept any complaints to herself, likely as recompense for Arya’s support for her and Sandor. This worked in Gendry’s favor as Sansa hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, only saying, "Who knew your habit of collecting strays would come so in handy?"

Arya's cheeks warmed. "They're not strays."

Rickon shrugged. "Not anymore, I suppose.”

"They're allies!” She insisted. “They're vital allies."

This time, Bran shrugged. "They can be both," he suggested innocently.

Arya growled and whacked his shoulder gently, turning to Jon for even a drop of support, but the only thing she found was frustration marring his brow. They were stalling again, wasting time. Arya sobered. She felt a bit like a child, finding Jon so troubled and having been so oblivious.

"Jon?” she ventured. “What are you thinking?"

He was quiet for a moment and she thought he might scold them, but instead he responded, "It's as Sansa said before. A knight is hardly a suitable match for a princess, let alone a smith."

Arya prickled at his words. True as they may be, in the political sense, the insinuation that her friends were somehow beneath her would never sit well with her. She knew that Jon was just being practical, that he had too much sense to hold a man's status against his character.

But then, he seemed to make many exceptions to sense when it came to those she cared about. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to marry Gendry, but she knew she’d prefer him to most, and she wasn’t about to let Jon discount him without objection.

"Gendry isn't just a smith.” She reminded him stiffly, fighting to remain civil as he huffed and turned away. "He leads the Brotherhood without Banners. He has earned the respect of Westeros.”

"And the smallfolk adore him. He's not just some war hero to them," Rickon added eagerly, looking to her, and she nodded him on. “He means something more. The whole Brotherhood does. They love them.”

"And he may not be a lord, by his own choice," Arya concluded, "but he is a Baratheon. That could mollify at least some of the lords."

"And would it mollify Daenerys? Or Aegon?" Jon snapped. "When it was a Baratheon who killed their family and sent them into exile in the first place? I may be their kin but I can only do so much to protect you."

"I thought that Daenerys granted immunity and legitimacy to Robert's children in exchange for recognizing Targaryen rule?" Sansa asked, hands moving to her hips. "Even Edric Baratheon has bent the knee."

"So how do you think she feels about Gendry, then, the only bastard to refuse her offer of a title and land? And the leader of a band of fools," Jon spat the word like it tasted foul on his tongue, "who reject the authority of anyone who wears a crown?"

Why Jon was suddenly spouting hostility at the Brotherhood he'd vocally appreciated during the war, Arya wasn't sure, but as much as she took issue with his slander, it wasn’t the time to bring it up. "If Daenerys does see the Brotherhood as a threat, then a marriage between us could be a means of establishing peace before a conflict breaks out...”

The look Jon gave her was that of a wounded animal with its prey cornered. She forgot what she had been about to say.

"If you think," he hissed, "that I'm going to risk your life on the premise that it might prevent disputes between that menace and the Crown, then I am going to have to disappoint you."

"And what of Edric Dayne?"

Arya could only watch as Jon turned away to face her sister, whose chin jutted out defiantly at the king. That imperious timbre sent shivers down Arya’s spine. She hadn’t heard her sister take such a lofty tone with Jon in ten years.

Jon, on the other hand, just sounded irritated. "What of him?"

"As a candidate for Arya's husband,” Sansa deadpanned, as unamused with him as he was with her. “Is something wrong with him?"

"Is this not the boy that used to traipse around with the same Brotherhood?" Jon enunciated his words as if he was speaking to someone extraordinarily slow and particularly annoying, and if his goal was to offend, then by the way Sansa bristled, he had succeeded.

"His involvement with the Brotherhood was minimal, contingent on his position as Ser Dondarrion's squire, and has already ended," she pointed out hotly. "It would have to, either way, seeing as he's not just a lord, but the heir to Starfall."

"And you think as the heir to Starfall, he and his bride will not be obligated to return to Starfall?" Jon replied just as impatiently. "He could afford to pick up the mantle of Sword of the Morning and run around the continent as a knight during the war, but do you truly think he will forfeit his responsibilities at the behest of a girl he knew when he was a squire?"

"But what if he forfeits his claim? If he intends to work for the council, he will."

"Then there is no guarantee he settles here."

“Oh,” Sansa made a cruel, ladylike sound, something like a laugh but not. "Is that all?"

The whites of Jon’s eyes had never been so visible. "Is that all?"

"Is that all, that she may have to leave? Is that your only qualm?"

"He offers her nothing!"

"He's a lord. He's an heir." Sansa lifted a finger with each point she made. "He's a war hero. He's a celebrated ally to the Martells, and to the Targaryens!"

Jon scoffed, loud, and so unlike him at all that Arya's jaw fell a little. "If a king with Targaryen blood is not enough to guarantee peace with the Targaryens, then a marriage to Edric Dayne will do no better! He offers her nothing!"

"He offers her security and kindness!" Sansa roared, calm breaking like the sea against cliffs. "He and Arya are not just familiar with each other — they're friends. Do you understand how rare and precious it is? As far as safety and happiness can go, there's no better assurance than that."

"What of our assurance?" Rickon snapped, stepping into line with his cousin, opposing Sansa. "We can offer her better than that."

"Exactly, Rickon!" Jon crowed, towering above them all even as he leaned in to emphasize his point. "Her family, in Winterfell, is better than that."

Her sister sputtered at his malice, turning to Arya, but she could only stare back, face still slack with surprise. Helpless, Sansa seethed, shaking her head at them all. "And so, what? She will never marry anyone?"

"I don't see why she has to," Rickon grumbled, but Arya barely heard him as Jon crossed over to her, took her by the shoulder, and tucked her into his side. "At least right away.”

"She doesn't," Jon agreed, gaze soft and raw, as if he’d been stripped bare and bleeding before her and didn't mind at all. What was she supposed to do? This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Time? But then he said, “She won’t.”

Sansa shrunk back as if slapped and Arya stilled under his arm. This was a voice she'd only heard him wield on the battlefield, or in court, deep as a wolf and imperious as a dragon. He had never been the king with them, not with his family, no matter how they'd fought or what over. But now, he’d raised his head to look at Sansa with narrowed eyes, and did not seem to see a cousin at all.

He continued steadily, "We have every right to keep her."

Sansa’s teeth were small and peeked out from her mouth like she wanted to run but when she met Arya's gaze, her mouth shut. She straightened her posture, her chin dipped low and humble this time. "You are a Targaryen king, but you're not her head of house. You may have a say, but the final word is Bran's."

Jon’s grip tightened and Arya winced as he positioned himself between the two sisters, almost as if to make sure Sansa wouldn’t reach out and grab her.

"Oh, did you forget?" she asked, so elegantly applying salt in the wound.

"It seems Bran has," Arya interjected. "Surely he has something to add?"

She looked to her brother, silently imploring, but he merely made a contented hum. Part of her wanted to tear her hair out, another wanted a go at his. She did not see what was so amusing about their siblings spitting and hissing at one another over her marriage prospects. Jon and Sansa were volatile enough as it is, some days managing genuine cordiality and others only just barely maintaining a facade of civility. This couldn’t help.

"Bran will do what's best for Arya," Jon spoke on his behalf, drawing her even closer, so her chest was pressed to his ribs. His heat warmed her like a furnace. "I trust him with that much. He loves his sister."

"And I don't," Sansa inhaled, eyes wide and stepping back. "That's what you mean, isn't it? Be honest with us, Jon. Arya and I have made our peace and moved past our childhood quarrels, but clearly, you haven't. You still hold them against me, don't you?"

"It's nothing like that," Arya assured her with a furrowed brow, gesturing for her cousin to corroborate. Jon didn't say a word.

Sansa looked down at her and soon deflated. "What would you know? He's an entirely different person to you.” She turned back to Jon, her voice low and scathing. “You’re making me look like a villain for suggesting she marry at all, but I’m just trying to find her someone who will be good for her before it’s too late. I will not allow her to suffer like I did.”

"No, you would just exile her from her home, to live with strangers.” There was no room for argument. There never had been. “Arya has been away from home long enough without you sending her away once more."

"Away from home, or away from you?”

She might’ve said more, she must’ve said more, and Jon must’ve said more too, but Arya couldn’t stand to hear another a word of it. What was the point of this bickering and bullshit? All the while Bran just sat there with that inscrutable certainty as his eyes trailed after Jon, and what did any of it matter?

“Enough!” she howled, pushing at his chest and ripping out of Jon’s reach.

His arm hung in the air for a moment, expression hurt, but she didn't have the time to be sorry.

"Were either of you going to ask me what I thought? Or are you two happy assuming you know what's best for me, as well as the North, and the rest of the kingdoms?" she snapped. Sansa, Jon, and even Rickon all began speaking at once, but she'd had enough of listening for an entire week. “Shut up! I’m sick of it. I’m sick of all of you.” She sneered. “What a waste of time.”

Sansa objected, and Jon tried to defend himself, but it had been, nothing but a waste of time and a strain on their throats. If this was the way things would go, she was better off being stolen by the free folk. She was half tempted to leave her window open in invitation. They might not even have to bind and carry her.

"We are not going to make these decisions in a single evening," Bran's voice raised now, cutting through the clamor like a sword through cloth. "I knew that when I brought it up. Although, I had thought we'd at least get the chance to discuss some of the prospects for Rickon and me. But that can wait for now. We have other engagements to attend to.”

"Right," she croaked. Meals and men. Meals and men. She was supposed to meet with Ser Davos and Lord Manderley. Through the window, the sky was orange. She swallowed, but her throat kept dry. "I'm already late. I have to go.”

She moved to leave, and Jon moved to follow, but Bran called out and asked him to wait as the door swung shut behind her, and that was the last she allowed herself to hear before breaking into a sprint.

@mysticalmuddle This isn’t the fic I was talking about before, but I thought you might like to be tagged anyway, seeing as you’re basically the sole reason I ever post my fics! Thank you for all your encouragement, you are amazing.

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monochromemedic · 3 years

Text

I had been stuck in the Dark World for who knows how long. The days didn’t seem to matter down here. No sun, no moon, just the vibrant green grid that coated the sky that would twitch and surge with occasional frequency. When I first got here, I fought hard to get back to the surface, to fight for any sense of normalcy, for home but after a while the dream began to fade. The options began to run dry when compared to the dangers that surrounded me. And so I settled. I survived. I searched for food, begged for shelter from kind Darkners. I did what I had to to live. The Queen was not an option. Whispers from Darkners told me how I was just what she was looking for, that would help her expand her reign to the Light World. As much as that would probably help me, I didn’t want to ruin the lives of others for the chance to see my family, as much as I missed them with every passing minute. The sound of bustling cars and the blinding lights of neon signs stung my senses, my palms pressing into my eyes to drown out what I could. Damn it this place never slept did it? There was always something, some sort of noise. Whatever bags I had under my eyes were probably made cartoonishly drastic with the lack of pure rest I was getting. ‘Supose it was better then being dead... My body felt heavy, and I knew I’d have to find a place to rest or I’d fall asleep mid crossing of a road and get run over by one of those goofy cars I’d seen. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad... I recalled the time one of the car’s rear bumped into a fire hydrant (or at least I thought it was) and made a squeaking sound. The darkness of a certain alley called to me, the silence a sweet lullaby to the roaring around me. Was it dangerous? Oh yeah. Was it stupid? No shit. Was I going to do it? The shadows the engulfed me were perfect and if it wasn’t for the underlying stench of garbage it’d probably be ideal. Still beggars couldn’t be choosers and if tonight was good enough I would have to consider having this as my permanent sleeping spot. My back slid against the cool wall across from the dumpster, eyes half lidded as they read the advertisements littering above. Why the hell did the Queen have ads anyway, if she wanted she could monopolize any products she wanted... Despite the quiet I couldn’t shake the feeling that creeped down my spine. The presence of something other then myself around me. I tried to close my eyes, I was in the city after all. It’d be concerning if I didn’t feel like people were one second from crawling up my ass. Though I had to admit I didn’t expect to actually feel something begin to touch me. My eyes snapped open, elbow prodding into a blurry shape that yelped and tumbled backward, it’s grasp my on shoulder tearing a hole in my already worn shirt in the struggle. “Hey! What the hell?!” I barked, standing over the perpetrator. My shoulders slumped when I saw what looked to be a doll staring up at me with wide eyes, an over exaggerated smile permanently spread across it’s face. The creature’s jaw opened wider with a clack, it’s small body shooting upwards to stand on it’s small pointed feet. “WOAH WOAH WOAHAH- [Live worms]!” The darkner’s voice was deafeningly loud, a shrill tone that cut the air like newly sharpened blades. “ I THOUGHT YOU WERE [Roadkill]. NICE TO KNOW I WON’T BE [Sleeping with the fishes] T0NIGHT!!” Well he had a certain way of speaking that was obvious. What the hell was going on with him, he talked like he was constantly being cut of random clips of other people speaking. He talked like a youtube poop or any other shitpost that would randomly shove memes into them for a quick laugh. “You thought I was dead? I was just... I was... uh.” I looked around me, eyeing the dirt and debris. “I was... going to sleep... here.” Dammit, telling people I had to sleep in such ratty places were always a blow to the ego but I suppose it was better then saying ‘Oh I was just sitting down here to die’ The puppet shook his head and waltzed over to the dumpster, his small hand smacking the side with a sense of pride. “ [Finders keepers, losers weepers] HUMAN, YOU PICKED A GOOD SPOT. TOO BAD [so sadd] I GOT HERE FIRST. THOUGH FOR A DEAL I SUPPOSE I COULD [Share the love~]” “Got here first... what are you talking about?” The Darkner let out a laugh, distorted echoes filling the air as he leapt inside, a solitary hand popping out to beg me to come closer. This was a terrible idea, but despite my best judgement I followed, and witnessed what I could only describe to be a makeshift bed inside. The puppet laid on top of musty mats and raggedy rugs, a single stained pillow resting just beneath his head. My god was he living in here? The creature continued his laugh, lurching only a few inches away from my face. “ [Sweet deal] ISN’T IT? J3ALOUS, [baby]?” I shirked back, cheeks reddening at the tone of his last word. I was most defiantly not jealous, in fact I was filled with remorse, something his pride did not help with. “It’s... uh something. I guess this means I’ll have to find another alleyway um, sorry for bothering you-” “SPAMTON.” “What?” His hand shot out towards my chest, fingers wiggling for a handshake. “SP-SPA MTON G SPAMTON, [Number 1 rated salesmen 1997]” He announced, an extra flair of bravado laced his titled. His hand was surprisingly warm for what it was made of but nothing that would be described as body temperature. “Jenna. Also 1997.” “WHAT A YEAR. LISTEN LIGHT nER, I AM DEALSMAN [yes/no?]” “Um... y-yes? I don’t-” “THEN LET ME MAKE A DEAL YEAH? FOR ONLY [many] KROMER, YOU MAY STAY IN MY [Privately owned] ALLEY. IT’S A REAL [steal] YOU’RE ROBBING ME [deaf] HERE!” My brows furrowed as I searched his face for any context clues for what the hell he was trying to say. Kromer? What the fuck was ‘kromer’? The only thing I knew of currency down here was dark dollars not kromer... even if he did ask for dark dollars he didn’t name a price, he just said many. And the amount of dark dollars I had was zero. “Uh I don’t have kromer. I don’t even have dark dollars I’m kinda broke Spamton, in case you couldn’t tell from uh...” I trailed off realizing saying that sleeping in an alley wasn’t a very smart thing to say to someone who slept in an alley. He seemed surprised by my words, beginning to tug on my coat, flipping my pockets to see if I was really lying. I had to push his mitts off me a couple of times, to which he eventually got the idea the way his hands began to rub at his extended jaw. “NO KROMER... WHAT CAN YOU DO?” “What do you mean?” He seemed to sense my change in tone, his grin beginning to wobble nervously “[Whoopsie daisy!] LET ME START AGAIN. DO YOU HAVE A [trade]? A [skill] TO [Exchange for goods and services]?” he croaked. I eyed the ground, rubbing the back of my neck. What the hell was I good at again? “I mean, I can draw, I suppose...” “ARTIST? WOW OWOW!” Spamton’s face lit up before digging in the dumpster, pulling out a few napkins and a ball point pen and shoving them into my hands. “WHAT A [trade] TELL YOU WHAT. YOU DRAW A [one-of-a-kind masterpiece] AND YOU CAN STAY THE NIGHT!” “You’ll let me stay... if I draw something for you on this napkin. Am I getting that right?” The doll nodded feverishly, basically hovering over my shoulder as I played with the pen. This was certainly the weirdest way to pay someone that I could imagine... well no but one that was in the realm of reality. I had to ask Spamton to give me some space a few time, the feeling of his breath on my neck making me more then nervous as I drew. God he was like those kids in school that would ask for drawings but ten times worse with the amount of personal space he’d give you. Besides I needed something to draw and with nothing on the mind why not draw the most interesting thing in front of me. I held the finished doodle out to Spamton only to have it snatched out of my fingers so fast I swore we could have started a fire. “WOAH...” The puppet sank inside of the dumpster, his face softening as for once in what seemed like forever the alley way grew silent. “THIS IS... ME?” “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t know what to draw, you kind of put me on the spot. Besides everyone likes drawings of themselves right?” I shrugged, being pulled away from my thoughts by an overdramatic sniffle. Was he... crying? Not quite, just damn well close. Spamton’s shoulders quaked as a warm smile returned to his cheeks, slipping the napkin into his pocket with glee. “SO GOOD... THANK YOU.” “It’s really nothing, honestly that was a pretty shitty drawing.” “WHAT? YOU’RE [&#!^]ING ME! THAT WAS [BIG SHOT]” He was screaming again, hands gesturing wildly about. “It wasn’t but thank you. I wish I was better to be honest. I’m not very happy with my art, not at all.” I turned away from his gaze, unsure of why I was overcome by a choking sensation building my throat. Why the hell was I telling this stranger this sort of stuff anyway? I mean I could hazard a guess it was the fact that this was the longest conversation I had had with anyone since I had gotten down here but with how things were it could be some magic power the doll possessed to tell him my deepest darkest secrets. “YOU DON’T THINK THIS IS [Big?]” “No.” “WHY NOT?” “I don’t know. I just... I think it doesn’t look the way I want it to. Doesn’t look good to me, and I don’t know how to fix it. Which I guess is a little funny considering how long I’ve been drawing. Just keep... drawing and drawing and never improving, least not how I’d like. It’s just garbage to me.” Spamton’s face seemed to fall, his glasses fading to a dark inky black. “YOU FEEL? NO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO? YOUR [passion]?” “Yeah.” A laugh ripped from his chest, his head lolling back with each chuckle. I felt my soul began to crack, a shame flooding my body with how hard he seemed to laugh. Did he find this funny? Humorous? I felt tears prick my eyes as I snapped my head back to glare at him, his head glitching back to stare back at me. “YOU’RE JUST LIKE ME, JENNA. A [slime] A REAL [slime]!” With a quick motion the puppet jumped to the ground, his hand resting against my arm as he spoke. “YOU’RE A REAL [BIG SHOT] YOU KNOW THAT? STAY AS LONG AS YOUR [Greasy little heart] DESIRES!” Well... that was unexpected. He’d really let me stay here as long as I want cause I was pathetic? Or did he just feel sorry for me? What was going on? And why was he calling me a slime... or us a slime? “Oh... uh thanks? I didn’t think I was being much of a big shot whatever that is but I apricate it. Really.” His head clacked with every little nod, leading me to a pile of cardboard boxes and patting them with the grace of a car salesman. “BEST [Seat in the house] ALL FOR YOU. [Night night forever]!” Spamton beamed, awkwardly swaying side to side before stumbling back to the dumpster a few inches away and crawling inside of it, much like a wild animal. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. This guy was weird. Kinda creepy but also kind of funny. I honestly couldn’t pinpoint a feeling on him but at least he didn’t want to hurt me just make weird ass deals and make me ‘big’. Did that mean famous? Was this guy so into my art he wanted to be some sort of manager? I rubbed my eyes and let out a yawn, the excitement of the day finally beginning to fade. God I forgot how tired I was, that little guy made me feel like I was gonna go into fight or flight. “Hey Spamton?” “YES?” his voice echoed from inside the metal container. “...Thank you.”

#self insert #spamton #vent #idk im just thinking #just wanted something to do

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purpleyellow · 3 years

Text

It’s not enough

NCT 24th member / Dream 8th member

Bee’s Masterlist

“The remarkable world of Mark Lee’s mind” or, Mark rethinkgs his entire history with Bee.

a/n: I finished it!! Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open!💛 this gif is peak devastation

All Mark could think when Bee first joined the group was “Thank God for Lee Jeno”.

Noticing that while she didn’t know how to express herself in front of them, Jeno was the first to give her a sense of comfort. Mark, after getting nervous for not knowing how to be helpful, told himself that eventually, Bee would get close to him too. He had a year, after all, to become friends and grow a bond with her.

Except that a year doesn’t last that long and little girls don’t come with instructions.

He knows she cried on his last showcase with Dream. But Mark has a feeling she only did so because of the occasion. She was seeing the seven best friends she witnessed together being separated, and that’s a heartbreaking sight when you know how close they are together.

Two years later, Mark realizes that was his big mistake. It wasn’t on purpose but along the way, he isolated the girl from their original friend group, and maybe it’s what caused some sort of distance in between them.

The year following his departure was an eventful one, and the boy grew a lot, experienced a lot, and learned a lot. The best part of everything being that whenever he met with their little friend group, his spot was intact and everything was the same. Except for Bee. Mark would see how she had inevitably built her own place within the dreamies, and it had him feeling weirdly left out even though they were perfectly coexisting.

They went on being coworkers and labeling each other as friends despite the weird lack of bond, until, of course, the whole “crush” fiasco went down. Mark saw himself and the girl going from, no correlation besides being in the same friend group, to suddenly facing a crisis that revolved around her feelings and his lack of knowledge about how she works.

The image he had of her, was built on a shallow level based on how others perceived her. That’s his second mistake. Jeno, and some of his Hyungs, were almost protective over Bee. Renjun and Jaemin treated her like their personal teddy bear. Haechan, Chenle, and to some extent Jisung were not worth going over in his head, because he thought that if he joked around as they did, she would probably get offended.

So there Mark was, trying to work around, this seemingly fragile character, while finding out that she saw him as a friend more than he did to her. And that maybe all the stress he had gone through to make sure she was being “protected” was worthless and seemingly ignored. He was a bit selfish for wanting to do the right thing simply for others to notice him, but that’s how he knew things. That's how he had to build a career for himself, he needed to get recognition from others to do the things he had done. And maybe connecting everything to work was another mistake.

“What’cha thinking about?” Chenle throws his coat on top of Mark’s head after realizing the practice room wasn’t empty. Though the boy was so deep in thought he didn’t realize the idol had arrived until he announced himself.

“Just life” Mark groans while laying back on the ground, his phone left on the floor next to him. The younger boy walked to the side, taking a glance at the screen before smirking.

“And by life, do you mean someone special?” He teases and Mark's hands fly to the device, the notes app open on the words he had mindlessly typed. He knew Chenle didn’t have time to actually read everything, but the title gave away enough. “The little ballerina”

“I’m trying to see things through a different lens” The Canadian spoke looking sideways at him. Gesturing he continued “Yesterday, I tried talking to her back at the van, but to be honest I had no idea what to say. Apparently, there's no good way to approach it, but I kind of feel like there might be”

“Markie, Markie. Don’t overthink anything. What do we do when we have a schedule that we’re not particularly good at?” Chenle placed a hand behind his ear and waited for the boy to say.

“We go ahead and just do it”

“So do just that” The boy snapped, “Between you and me, Yun-hee doesn't know what she wants. At one point she's all certain about 'moving on' or whatever, yet then when you ask her for any details of what she's feeling, she completely ignores you”.

“You asked her about it?” Mark's head snaps up frowning and the boy nods. “What did she say? Does-”

“Did you not listen to what I just say? She brushed me off” Chenle rolls his eyes “But I think she still likes you if that's worth something. Maybe not the way she did back when Haechan dropped the bomb”.

“What do you mean? Like a friend?” He questions confused, decreasing the younger's patience.

“No, Mark. The same way you like her now”.

“Chenle, I already told her, and all of you, that I don't feel like that towards Bee” Mark’s tone gets more serious and the younger groans annoyed.

“You two are so slow, we literally have to put words in your mouth to get things going” Chenle speaks quicker trying to get his point across. “It's really obvious you care about Bee more than you did at the beginning of last year. And okay, let's say you don't have a little thing for her or whatever, but you do want to have some sort of relationship with her, don't you?”

“Yeah, being friends for once would be nice” Mark nods, sarcastically, and gets up from the floor. “I really just want this all to end”

Mark left the room shortly after and being honest with himself, he felt a little light-headed with everything Chenle just told him. Putting most things aside to revisit once he had a clearer mind, the boy decided to put into use the one good advice he could find in the middle of everything. When you have a particularly hard task, you just have to go ahead and do it.

So with that, his plan was built. And by plan, he means to have no prepared speech, and no questions to ask, instead figure out everything after he finally finds a way of talking to her, which has been harder than anticipated.

A couple of days later, while he went down to the sm cafe before it was time to be at the studio, Mark quite literally froze in place at the sight of a certain Stray Kids member standing near a wall.

Waving shyly at him and Renjun, Seungmin waited awkwardly to see if they would come near him.

"Bee shouldn't take much longer" Renjun caught Mark by surprise, as he approached the boy calmly "Her recording session is almost done, but we can show you the studio if you want to wait for her there"

"No, it's fine" Seungmin smiled, though a little intimidated by Mark's frown. "I'll just sit wherever if it takes too long"

"I'm sorry, you two are going out?" The laugh followed by Mark's question was a little nervous, considering he had only seen the boy a few times yet here he was waiting for Bee to be done so they could do... something?

"No, no. Bee's going to meet Moon, I'm just the intermediate" Seungmin tries to joke but Renjun is the only one laughing. Clearing his throat, he explains further "My group was nearby and we're meeting Ateez for dinner so Moon asked if I could come to pick her up"

"Yun-hee is staying over at her dorm" Renjun adds, glaring sideways at the Canadian. "A sleepover or whatever you want to call it" The three fall silent after he's done talking and Mark runs over an explanation as to why he's feeling so frustrated over this conversation.

He and Bee hadn’t properly spoken since the award show shooting. And while forced interactions were the bare minimum, the boy felt as if the distance they kept had triplicated its length. It made him feel odd to see her act normally with everyone, including a boy she hadn’t spoken to for a year. So why couldn’t they be normal as well?

"Well, I'm going ahead and get a coffee. She should be coming anytime, though being late is kind of expected at this point" The comment from Renjun makes Seungmin chuckle and both boys nod to each other. Turning to Mark, he frowns at his wondering expression "You coming?"

"I'm heading up actually, it's my turn on studio 3" He shakes his head and waves at them. The elevator doesn't seem to take much longer to arrive, which Mark thinks might be some weird doing of fate, considering as soon as he makes it to his floor, Bee is walking along the hallway. Or was, because she changes her path the moment she spots him

Acting purely on instinct might not be the smartest thing to do, the boy thinks to himself while chasing her through the building without any idea of what he wants to say once "catching" her. Maybe Kun hiding Bee in his studio and obviously lying to him was a good thing, or at least it gave him another day to think about where he wants to stand with her.

Ironically, a couple of days after, he's in fact standing in front of a door while thinking if he should or not enter and hopefully settle everything. Mark opens the door slowly, analyzing the small room with two chairs in which she's sitting on one.

“Can we talk now?” He waits for her positive to walk inside and Bee does so by simply nodding. Her eyes looked a little tired and uninterested, but the small tremor on her hands told him how present she really was. And just like the first time they met, her nervousness contaminated him, and they just sat inside the small room without looking at each other in silence.

"I, um, have been thinking about everything since that game night" Mark clears his throat and starts speaking towards the floor "And, not that you owe me anything, but I'd just like to know what happened"

Frowning, Bee quickly glances at him "What do you mean, what happened?"

"When did you start, kind of seeing me in that way. And how did it stop, I guess. It just feels like a lot happened that I'm not aware of, and it's making me look back and reconsider some stuff, I'll explain that later, just let me know what I missed"

Bee thought of how she would put things into words and twirled the ring on her finger, taking a deep breath she tried to make herself comfortable on the chair

"It started around when you came back from the SuperM tour. Or maybe before that, I'm not sure” She sighs and picks at her nails “It seemed like that boy I met was gone after you graduated, and you became this even cooler rapper, you became more confident in yourself, literally embodied SM's favorite child. I sort of became stunned, this feels really weird to say, but I couldn't really recognize you"

Mark slowly looks at Bee while she's talking and carefully listens, he feels a little more comfortable not to look away once she raises her head again. Once she stops, he nods turning his chair a little so they're more face to face.

"You feel out of it after you find out I'm still the awkward boy from before" His jokes make her shrug as opposed to the giggle he expected to hear.

"That happened, but also, you did turn me down" Bee bites her lip regretting the word choice "Not that I'm mad, or really hoped for anything, I simply didn't want to push anything or make things too weird. That's why going back to normal was such a huge thing, but it's been a really long time since then and we still don't know how to do that, I guess"

"Maybe it's because we didn't exactly have a normal, at least not the one we're trying to do right now" Mark catches her attention and she gestures for him to keep going "Thinking back to when we first met, we never got close just the two of us. The others were always around, and even then, I can't recall us sticking together or anything. That might be why you thought I was different"

"It makes sense" The girl mumbles tilting her head and frowning. If he was true, that would mean her crush had been based on this picture of him she drew on her head. And while part of it certainly was, Bee also knows that a little percentage came from his actual responsible yet boyish and kind personality she still appreciates to this day.

"I guess it does" Mark nods reading her face "We should probably find a way to work around that. Just get closer in general, I guess. Find out what our dynamic is like without blending in with the rest of the boys and ignoring each other" He speaks hopefully, but Bee fears it might not work again.

"But, what if this is it for us. We didn't naturally become friends, so maybe accountancies it's what we should stick with" She doesn't know if she meant it, or was scared of this whole 'finding out' deal and its consequences. From what she knew, Bee could easily slip back into her feelings for him and end up breaking her face again.

Yet Mark wasn't having it. He'd spent way too much time, especially lately, noticing how she was comfortable with the others, and the nice chemistry they had. He felt left out, not as in ignored, but Bee was sweet, and a little quirky which also made her funny, but still very caring, and he never denied she was pretty. He wanted to know what it’s like to be her friend like the others are. Though this moment might be the first time he questions if a friendship will be enough for him.

"Let's put an effort this time" He shakes his head dismissing her comment "We can stick around in the practice room a little longer now that our schedules mostly match. And you know, hang out together more, no running away or ignoring each other"

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Bee bounces up her leg and thinks a little bit.

"For what it's worth, we can try. We spent a good time in here and it didn't get awkward, so there’s hope" Mark giggles and she follows him "It'll make the teamwork better if you need a greater good to support your decisions"

"Okay" Bee nods making him shyly hold out a fistbump to her. Making up a quick and weird handshake, they laugh together lighting up the mood a little.

"Just a little request" The girl stops Mark as he's getting up "Let's not rush things, you know. Make it more natural than acting like we're forcefully acting as friends"

"Yeah, sure" Mark pats her head opening the door. And to everyone, especially the dreamies’, happiness, they're a little less awkward around each other.

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wreckofawriter · 3 years

Text

Magnolia Final Part

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of blood and death

Summary: idk dude just read the other chapters first or this is gonna make no sense

A/n: I did this instead of studying for my finals, also it could probably use a neither round of editing but I was anxious to post it. And I really don't give a fuck if this is historically inacurate all research done for this was from Pirate of the Caribbean.

Part 1 Part 2

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

You considered the stars your friends, their predictability and reserve made them easy to get along with. You had been taught to read their language from your early days of ships and oceans. As a child, you would speak to them, whispering secrets from your bedroom window. Your young nights had been filled with time spent stretching from the top of your magnolia tree to try and grasp their beauty. Even now as you stared up at the heavens you wished to cradle them like priceless jewels, their wonder never faded. But you supposed their mystery is what made them so appealing, everyone wanted something they could never quite reach.

The news of your captured prince had spread like fire in a dry wind, the letters you had sent to Aldir and their neighboring kingdoms throwing many into action. Sirius’s kingdom was large, powerful, and merciless. Some wanted the prince for leverage, many others wanted blood; revenge driving them to empty treasuries and sharpen swords. At first, you had been sitting pretty, letters of bids coming to you at every stop you made. Eventually, prices got too high and kingdoms decided it would be easier to take than to pay.

Ash burned in the back of your throat, you stared at your feet as the second ship that week crumbled into the ocean. Its flames were heavy on your back, reflecting in the greys of the sea. A particularly large crack of the fire made the breath catch in your throat. Your fear of the element had persisted for years filling your nightmares with smoke and screams.

As the distance between you and the defeated ship lengthened your heart began to calm. The air was thick with moisture, purple clouds bruising the dull sky. The ocean was frothy, waves lapping tirelessly at the sides of your ship.

Your mind felt dizzy, the taste of blood still thick in your mouth. Two more men had been lost in the fight which had taken place just minutes ago. One flung into the ocean and the other struck by a bullet. That was six bodies that you had been forced to dump into the sea the past month.

You had to get rid of Sirius before more corpses were to be fed to the sharks. This had never been so strikingly obvious before yet, you hesitated. Nails dug into your palms, the voices in your head fighting a clamoring war. Your feelings were illegible, their messy colors smeared together in an uninterpretable painting. So you threw them away, ignoring the throb in your chest and taking a breath. Sirius was to be sold to the highest bidder and that was that. You felt your past’s grip on your throat loosening. There was only one way to get rid of what used to be, you had to kill it.

Sirius had never been so bewildered before. His life had been a book that was written a thousand times over. The prince falls in love, the queen doesn’t approve, the love runs off, the prince finds the love, and then happily ever after. But life wasn’t as sweet nor simple as a children’s story and this may be the first time that he had ever truly realized that. All it took was the prince to be tied in the love’s basement ready to be sold to his death.

Sirius woke with a start as metal clattered inches from his face. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as his breath slowly returned to his lungs. He stared at the plate which had woken him, it was piled higher than normal with two rolls dropped next to it. He peered up at the giver of this gift.

He recognized the small blonde as the one he had threatened a few weeks before, the fear he had seen in her eyes that moment now replaced with pity, bitter and soft like rotten fruit.

“I wanna talk.” She said plainly, toeing the plate towards him like a bribe, he supposed that’s exactly what it was.

Sirius sat up ignoring the hammer of his head. His hair stuck to his cheek, slick with sweat. The woman whose name he never learned dropped to a squat beside him, a small knife held in her hand. His eyes widened as it glinted in the small gas lamp hanging above his head.

“Relax.” She sighed cutting the rope that tethered his hands behind his back.

Sirius felt his shoulders groan in protest as they fell forward, his wrists aching and rubbed red. Hot pin pricks filled his fingers as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

When he looked back up Adrie was now seated in front of him, her legs crossed. She glanced down at the food and then back up at him, “You can eat if you agree to answer some questions.” Her demands were simple.

He let silence settle for just a moment, “Fine.” After all, what did he have to lose? His dignity? His pride? They had been sleeping with the fishes for ages.

She pushed the plate towards him, watching him quietly as he began to eat, “You don’t look like much of a prince to me.” She hummed after a moment.

Sirius swallowed, licking his lips, “Does anyone after two weeks locked in the bottom of a ship full of scum?"

Adrie cracked a smile, “I suppose not.”

She stared at him still, she was lying a bit. Years held prisoner couldn’t erase the royalty he was raised with, it stuck to him like wet stuck to water. Nothing and everything proved him a prince, you could take his crown but you could never take his title.

“How do you know y/n?”

Sirius was startled by the suddenness of the question but not remotely surprised it was asked, “She hasn’t told you?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if she had,” Adire responded, her tone was blunt.

He bit into a roll thoughtfully taking his time to chew slowly, she was patient, her blank expression, not faltering.

“I thought you were friends.” He mumbled with a full mouth.

Her jaw tightened, “Y/n doesn’t speak of her past.”

“So you’ve come to me for information?” Sirius said mild mockery in his voice.

“Obviously.”

He eyed the woman curiously, she was not what he had expected of your right hand man. Sirius smiled loosely, “You sure you wanna disobey Captain’s orders?”

“Start talking or I take the food and hang you by your ankles.”

Sirius huffed glancing between her and his food, “Fine, you win.”

“Good. Tell me everything.” She demanded.

Sirius felt his throat tighten around the potatoes he had swallowed, his mind ached with hazy memories of summer days and speeding hearts, “There isn’t much to tell.”

“You’re a bad lair.” Adire hummed.

Sirius sighed, eyes falling to the bright white scars which laced his hands. He wasn’t sure where else to start but the beginning. He told of a loud baker girl who snuck over the walls into his garden and brought him pastries and friendship. He continued with vague details, of growing up together with swords and stars, reliving each moment he shared.

He felt his words stiffen as he spoke of falling in love with you. Part of him felt like he was talking of someone completely different. Someone who had burnt up with her parents in a small bakery a million miles away. What was left, muffling cries above him, was a shell of that girl her soul replaced with seaweed and smoke. He pushed the thought away, swallowing it with the lump in his throat as he continued to speak of a proposal he regretted and the consequences of disobeying his mother.

The broken fairytale cut his tongue filling his mouth with a bitter taste. He attempted to wash it down with the rum his listener had brought to him but its flavor was just as bad, it's only redemption was the warmth that filled his stomach.

Adrie looked at him blankly, "I don't blame her for wanting you dead."

Sirius wished she had stayed silent.

"But I pity you, you don't deserve death."

He didn't look up and instead finished his drink, "Your pity means nothing to me."

She sighed standing to her feet, "I never thought it did."

When her boots disappeared up the ladder he let his cup drop to the ground, it rolled knocking into his heel as tears dripped from his chin.

By the time you had dropped anchor just off of Haran, the moisture had dropped from the air. Dry winds and clear skies greeted your crew.

Rowboats were dropped in the water quickly, the sun was setting fast and a night of cheap ale and cheaper women were in the forefront of many a man's heads.

You were tired, the happiness of your crewmates falling short at your feet. Exhaustion had replaced all anger and sadness you had harbored for the past weeks making your eyes grow dull as the bags beneath them. The satchel burned under your arms had a note you had written agreeing to the Yerith King’s price. You had singed your finger on the wax used to seal the envelope, it still throbbed a bit with the unsteady beat of your heart. You tried not to think about much on your way to land instead filling your head with that faint burn and fog of the setting sun.

Adrie watched as you played with the diamond strung around your neck, a new piece she had only seen in recent days. She assumed you had taken it from one of the ships which had recently burnt into the sea. The bright stone was so different from the rest of your jewelry she was surprised you wore it all. Obnoxious gems had never been your type.

She was wrong on this thought, large jewels used to be what you would stare at as you passed shop windows, wishing you had the money to clutch one in your hand. They used to be a dream and a wish, now they were just things you stole and sold to the highest bidder.

Sirius had been briefly told of the plans for the evening. Two men whom he had become somewhat accustomed to during his stay had tied him up. The knots were tighter than usual as they were to be gone for the night. In his usual nature, Sirius complained about the ache of his wrists and the cramps in his legs. His grievances went unheard and his company disappeared from sight. The boat was quiet within the hour, nothing but the creak of old boards and calls of gulls far above his head breaking the silence.

He drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours, time passing in its usual way, slowly. Finally, a clear thought came to Sirius’s head, he had the whole boat to himself. That meant there was no one to stop him from escaping his certain and quickly approaching death.

Sirius tried to twist his hands out of the rope for what must have been an hour and only resulted in drawing blood from his wrists. Switching tactics he began to slowly shuffle and roll around the cabin he was in, searching for anything that could cut rope. As the sun’s light began to fade his task was growing difficult. Just before he gave in to his exhaustion Sirius found a bent nail sticking about a centimeter out of the ladder that led to the upper deck. The next two hours were spent rubbing his binds against the dull metal until they finally snapped.

After a month of being held prisoner, freedom left him stunned. He stumbled up the ladder until he reached the ship’s deck. The warm breeze which washed over him felt like a gift from the gods. A smile stretched his aching cheeks and for the first time in a while Sirius Black let out a genuine laugh.

He quickly found a small boat which he could lower to the water. He could be miles away before the sun rose and you found his binds cut. Judging by the port you had stopped at he was only a few days' row from neutral lands. There he could gather himself and write for help. He was saved.

Sirius’s glee was cut short as he realized that he was missing one vital thing; you. The only reason he was out here in the first place was for you. He had spent years following rumors across the sea, he had given up his place as king, he had spent hundreds of thousands on supplies. But the truth was even if he hadn’t done all that, even if he had stumbled across you within a week and spent no more than ten doubloons he still wouldn’t leave this ship alive unless you were by his side.

Sirius cursed, slamming his fist into the deck. His eyes darted around in what felt like panic. He was trapped between your love and his life and while he had chosen the former weeks ago he had no way of securing it.

In the dark, a glint of light was seen. A crate of liquor stowed next to the captain’s quarters revealed itself to the pale moon. The man's mind buzzed, he realized quickly that he would need to act fast, the hours of the dark he had left must be well used.

The deal had been easy, one glance at the large gem and you had a buyer offering hundreds. You walked away with 400 doubloons knowing it was worth much more. Not that you cared, you had been hours from chucking the necklace into the sea.

It was late at night now, the golden light of pubs and brothels spilling onto the gravel road you walked. Your legs still felt weak, they were accustomed to the sway of boats on sloshing waves not the strange sturdiness of the ground. You hadn’t been able to sleep well on land since you had stepped off it, you had always opted for a swinging hammock over a still cot.

You swung your bag of coins round in circles as you made your way to the beach. The water was smooth save the ripple of waves drawn by the full moon. Sand glistened silver under your boots, the light crash of water on rocks echoing around you.

You had never intended to spend the full night on land, your crew was well aware of this fact and none would be surprised to find you gone in the morning. You shoved one of your beached row boats back into the water, splashing about ankle deep before leaping into it.

When you reached your ship, you sensed something was wrong immediately. The small voice which you tended to ignore was screaming in the back of your head. As you climbed onto the deck the strong scent of liquor overwhelmed you. You heard a soft splash and glanced down to look at the puddle you had stepped into. Swiping two fingers through the fluid and plopping them into your mouth you hummed. There was no mistaking the sharp taste of gin. You looked around to find the leak and instead locked eyes with a figure who stood about 20 meters in front of you.

“Sirius?” You asked though you already knew it was him, you didn’t think you would ever forget his face, even if it was obscured by the shadows of the moon.

He gapped at you, unsure of what to say.

You took a step closer and caught a glance of the bottle he held in his hand. Its thin neck was stuffed with a piece of cloth, the soft glow of a gas lamp flickering behind him. The second you realized what he had planned your gun was pointed at his chest.

“Drop the bottle Black.” you hissed with a steady voice despite the fact that your gun was rattling in your hands. Your thoughts were now fogged with fear, plagued by smoke and flames.

Sirius had suddenly found his voice, “I know you’re not stupid enough to fire that. One spark and we’ll both go up in flames.”

Your breaths quickened, vision blurring as tears welled in your eyes. “Why are you doing this?” You croaked. “Why do you want to ruin everything I’ve built for myself?”

“I’m not leaving without you y/n.” He shouted, “I can’t live without you. Just come with me. Please. Just come with me and it will all be fine.”

You shook your head, “No.”

“Please, please! I need you y/n, I can’t go back without you!” He begged, snatching the lamp from behind him, “I won’t be able to live.”

It was in that moment that you understood he was just as desperate as you, just as lost and hopeless. You dropped your gun to your side, tears sliding slowly down your cheeks. Your throat tightened holding back a sob, “Okay.” You said with a broken voice.

Sirius cracked a small smile, “I knew it.” He sighed, “I knew you still loved me.” Setting down the lamp he opened his arms walking towards you. You met him halfway burying your face into his rough jacket.

“God I missed you y/n,” he whispered as you slipped a knife from under your sleeve.

“I’m so sorry Siri.” You mumbled in response before plunging the blade into his back.

You held him as he collapsed forward, choking back on his own blood. You had begun to sob, hand still clutching the hilt of the blade which was lodged into him. Eventually his weight became too much to bear and you both fell to the ground. Sirius rolled off next to you, his hand still clasped around your own. The two of you started up at the stars listening as his breaths slowed. Just before they stopped completely you felt a small squeeze of your hand and for just a moment you saw the soft pink of a petal floating towards you.

You weren't sure how long you lay there, staring up at the sky but it was long enough for you to finally realize that you were the villain of your story. It was an odd thing to recognize considering in all of the books you had carried as a child you took the place of the protagonist; the one who swung the sword to save the kingdom You had always been the one to end your life with a happily ever after.

Now you had realized that you had never been a hero. You had spent your life as a villain in the making, each step you had taken leading you closer and closer to your undeniable fate of evil. You had your chance to be the princess trapped in the tower, but you had ignored the prince and now took the shape of a witch. A witch who stole and killed and burned all that she hated. Some had to do it after all, we can’t all be heroes. There is no story without a villain, at least not one worth reading.

As much as the small baker girl who rested amongst the magnolia tree would have hated you, the woman you saw when you looked in the mirror was okay with who you had become. And if she was okay with it, then why did it matter what the past would have thought? You had been running from it for years and now you would never have to again. Because now your past ran from you.

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behindheremeraldeyes · 3 years

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damirae week 2021 Wednesday, May 5th - holiday & vacations title: love is in the air summary: When his brother decides to mess with him as a Holiday prank, Damian ends up having to travel in coach like the rest of the mortals. Eventually, though, he learns that turbulence can strike even before the plane takes off.

“What do you mean by coach class?”

His brows are furrowed when he asks her that, a puzzled expression taking over his face. Expectant, green eyes are on the flight attendant in front of him, as he waits for her to provide him a little more information on the matter. She’s growing anxious the longer he stares at her, a nervous tic making her left eye tremble whenever she tries to maintain eye-contact. Apparently, she knows who he is— of course she does— therefore; he believes it’s safe to presume she understands why he’s so confused.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Wayne, but that’s what your ticket says.” She explains, her voice laced with nervousness as she shows him the printed paper with his name written on. Damian is not blind— far from that, actually. He can see all the information written on that paper, but no matter how much he tries, he still can’t comprehend the ‘coach’ part. He has been traveling by plane for as long as he can remember, and never once has he deliberately chosen a seat in coach— in fact, never once has he chosen a seat at all, since he has a secretary of his own. A very competent and well-paid one, for the matter.

Such a primal mistake like this has never happened in all the years they’ve been working together. Something must have happened, he knows.

“I believe there must have been some mistake.” He states calmly, his demeanor unaltered. “Could you please check it again? The people at my company would never make such a trivial mistake.”

“Of course, I understand completely. I’ll try checking it on the system to see if I can find anything.”

Her fingers move rapidly across the keyboard, and he studies her face, looking for a hint of what’s actually happening. She’s still nervous, he can tell, and if anything, that’s not a good sign. It means she’s not finding the problem in the system, and if she’s not finding it, it means the said problem doesn’t exist. And if it doesn’t exist— well— something must have happened at Wayne tech.

How odd, he ponders.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Wayne, but there really has been no mistake. Your ticket was ordered last Wednesday night, and it is as I’ve told you, see?” She turns the monitor so he can see, probably so he won’t hold it against her or anything. “You know, it’s quite common for some of our clients to make this kind of mistake. Perhaps you forgot to select the first class? “

“Highly unlikely. My secretary always double-checks everything.”

“Well, both the coach class and the seat were chosen by your secretary last Wednesday night. Are you sure nothing unusual happened when he ordered the ticket for you?”

“I’m positive. It was a normal Wednesday and— wait.” He suddenly stops. His emerald eyes blink once, twice and a third time, a blank expression taking over his handsome face. ”Did you just say he?”

Once he allows her words to sink in, Damian questions the integrity of his ears. Perhaps, after all of those years fighting crime and handling explosives, they might not be working as perfectly as they are supposed to.

He must have heard it wrong because, last time he checked, Mrs. Miller was not a man. She’s a conservative woman who’s around her 60s, and even if that doesn’t mean a thing anymore, she has never once told him anything about switching genders. If anything, she’s always the one lecturing Jason about finding a kind woman such as herself.

Still, a stranger such as the woman standing in front of him could never know such personal things about Mrs. Miller’s life. Things are not adding up. And for he is his father’s son, he wants to know why.

“Oh, yes. I presume the name Richard belongs to a man, no? It’s the name of the account who’s booked you this flight.”

“Richard?!” He questions, and it only takes him a second to put all the pieces of that silly puzzle together.

Grayson, you bastard.

Now it all makes perfect sense. Of course he had to be behind this childish act. Who else would have enough free time to waste before the Holidays just to prank a busy, young man such as himself? His older brother might be respected by many of their super friends, but more than anyone, Damian knows he is but a child filled with hormones. He probably thought it would be funny to make his little brother travel for hours in coach as a commoner, where he would have to sit next to a stranger.

That worthless manwhore.

However, he won’t let his predecessor have the last laugh. Grayson did this solely to piss him off and throw him out of his comfort zone, therefore, the best revenge should be handling the situation without creating a fuss. Damian is going to accept the conditions without putting up a fight, and his brother’s victory will have a bitter taste.

Yes, that’s how a real man gets his personal revenge. He will endure a six-hours flight home in coach class like a pro, and he will show the first Robin not to mess with the newest generation.

A proud smirk, then, takes over his lips. That certainly should teach him a lesson—well, that and the explosives Damian plans to hide in his brother’s bedroom, of course.

“Mister Wayne, I’m terribly sorry about all this. I—“

“No need to be sorry. In fact, I should be the one apologizing for all of these questions now that I know what happened.” He starts, placing his hand on his chest as an apologetical gesture. “You see, Richard is my older brother. He’s not as smart as the rest of the family, so it’s highly likely that he’s made this mistake.”

“Oh, I understand. I guess every family has one of those, right?”

“You have no idea. Now, Karen.” He says, finally paying attention to the name written on her uniform. “I’m incredibly sorry for wasting your time. Without further ado, I will head to my seat.”

“Mister Wayne, you’re very kind, indeed.” She starts, a blush tinging her cheeks. With a staple, she makes small holes on his ticket before handling it back to him. “I hope you have a safe flight to Gotham.”

“Yeah, me too.”

His voice doesn’t sound as irritated as he feels, and that alone is a big victory. Without wasting more of his precious time, Damian walks towards the jet bridge so he can finally board the plane. A couple walks behind him, chuckling as they talk about how much fun it will be to go back home for Christmas.

Going home for the Holidays, huh?

An entire week at the Wayne Manor with his brothers and his father, sharing meals together and trying not to murder each other during their morning exercises. Though Gotham could not get any safer since the whole bat-family will be together, it is also the one time of the year when his murderous instincts are at their peak.

A tired sigh escapes his lips. That’s a problem for another time, he thinks.

Once inside the plane, his eyes search for the signs that will take him to his seat. For the first time in his life, he turns right instead of left— coach instead of first class— and suddenly, a small corridor is in front of him. For a moment, he feels like a cow heading for the slaughterhouse, as many other people are forming a line in front of him.

It’s hard to breathe and even harder to walk with all of those people trying to put their bags inside the upper compartments. He checks his ticket again. D21. According to the numeration pattern, he’s almost there, but he’s still not moving fast enough. All the simultaneous talk is driving him insane, and now he understands why some people choose to dope themselves as soon as they get inside the plane.

He doesn’t have any sleeping pills with him, but maybe if he punches himself with enough strength…

No. He can make it. Things will get better once he sits down and they take off. It can’t possibly get any worse than it already is, right?

Right?

A curse is muffled under his breath, and finally, he reaches his seat. For he knows how to travel light, Damian is quick to place his bag where it belongs and now he can establish himself. It’s a window seat, he notices, which means that soon there will be another person next to him, too close for his own liking. He knows there’s no use in picturing what kind of person it will be, but he can certainly hope it’s a nice one who knows how to respect his personal space.

If he or she doesn’t have vocal chords, Damian definitely won’t complain.

He closes his eyes for a moment, then, allowing himself to settle down and get used to his surroundings. It’s chaotic, he thinks, and he knows chaotic. Children are crying, some people are on the phone and others are just breathing too loud. He knows he’s whining like a brat, but it’s stronger than him. It’s annoying, and he swears if that lady keeps on talking about her 3 cats, he’s going to—

His inner monologue stops, his eyes widening for a moment. At last, he hears the one thing he hates more than Joker’s maniacal laughter. That unbearable sound that makes his head throb and makes his lips turn into a deep frown.

“Is that Damian Wayne?”

Teenage girls. And they know him.

Perhaps it’s the annoying giggle or even the way they keep on getting bolder every time they meet him, but Damian can’t stand them. They’re just too obnoxious— a real pain. He honestly doesn’t know why on earth they tend to approach him whenever they have the chance, especially since he’s sure he has never once paid them any attention. In fact, chances are he has even been rude to them on more than one occasion.

Trying to understand a teenager’s mind is beyond his capacity. Ignoring them, though doesn’t prevent them from returning, is the easiest way out, and when they come— because they will come— that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“Excuse me, Damian Wayne.” One of them says, her voice laced with excitement. Two more stand next to her, but he can’t really tell them apart. “It’s you, isn’t it? “

Jesus, can someone please knock him out already?

He crosses his arms at her words, his brows now knitted in annoyance. He’s pretty sure there’s nothing welcoming in his expression, but that won’t stop them from continuing. It’s not like they actually care about his feelings or anything.

“Oh, my god! It really is you!“ She claps her hands, biting her lower lip. “Can I get a selfie? Can I?”

“God, Mary. Can you be any more inconvenient?” The one on her left asks, pushing her friend away so she can take a step closer. “Forgive my friend. She can’t read the atmosphere like I can. If you want, I can send her away and keep you some company during the flight.”

“Ugh, get out of my way, both of you!” The third one pushes through, using her elbows to force her way forward. “Hi, I love you and I really mean it, Damian! I love you so much that, if you want, we can meet at the bathroom cabinet and I’ll show you.”

His eyes widen in horror at such proposal, and he’s almost sure this girl isn’t old enough to be saying such things. From the corner of his eyes, he watches as a bunch of people lift their phones to point at him, all of them waiting to hear his final answer so the dirty press can judge him.

Grayson is going to pay dearly for this.

This girl is insufferable. All of them are.

They’re causing all of that commotion, preventing people from walking down the small corridor and embarrassing him in front of all of those eyes. They can’t possibly think it’s okay to do or say those things so openly like to a man they know nothing about. Though the initial plan might have been for him to at least talk to them, Damian can’t bear any more hatred inside of him than at this very moment, and if looks could kill, those three wouldn’t be breathing anymore.

His hands turn into fists and he closes his heavy eyes so he can stop himself from committing a murder. Justice, not vengeance. His father’s words echo inside his head, and he’s having a really hard time trying not to think only about the second part. He really just wants to go home right now. And thankfully, he’s not the only one.

“Hum, excuse me…”

His ears detect a fresh voice, calmer and more mature. Instinctively, he opens his eyes to look at this new stranger, and he’s impressed by what he sees. She’s beautiful, he notices. Dark hair, violet eyes and ivory skin, all together to form an ethereal beauty like he has never seen before. Damian can’t help but keep looking at her, curious to know what she’s going to say on this matter.

“Hi!” She continues, her thin lips turning upwards in a smile. “I know you’re all busy trying to seduce this man with your oozing pheromones and irrefutable proposals, but in case you haven’t noticed, there are people trying to get to their seats here.”

“So what?” One of them says, a hand on her hips and a lot of attitude in her high-pitched voice. She’s trying to be intimidating, but it’s clearly not working. “Can’t you see who he is, you emo? He is—“

“I couldn’t care less about who he is.” The raven-haired girl cuts in, clearly not in the mood for that drama. “He could be Superman or even the president himself, for all I care. My problem is with you three airheads who are interrupting the flow. There are people trying to walk here and the airplane hallway is not a place to flirt with strangers who won’t even remember your face once we take off.”

“What!? Of course he will remember!” She glares. “We are—“

“Annoying the hell out of him? That you are. I mean, just look at his face! He looks like shit!” She points at him, violet eyes now meeting emerald ones. Her though expression suddenly melts into a softer one, her head tilting a bit to the right. “No offense, though.”

“None taken.” He answers, an amused smirk now taking over his face. She nods at him before returning her burning eyes to those three girls.

“Like the rest of us, this man just wants this damn plane to get him where he needs to be so he can move on with his life and get drunk during the holidays. We don’t want to be here. So, without further ado, could please you get the fuck out of the way before I lose my temper? ”

He doesn’t know what happens next or even how a small girl such as herself could be so intimidating, but at her words, he notices his three fangirls flinching. They’re avoiding eye-contact, and for the first time, one of them seems to grow aware of the crowd staring at them. The one standing in the middle starts to tremble, and though they’re looking at him as if searching for some sort of support, Damian can’t bring himself to offer them anything slightly remote to that.

In fact, if he has to pick sides, he wouldn’t need to think twice before taking the brunette’s.

“I-I… I—“

“You what?” She asks, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest. Her pose holds no hesitation as she stands her ground. “Do you need me to spell it out for you? “

With a 'tch’, the three girls finally walk away, returning to their respective seats with their heads hanging low, and he can’t help but feel incredibly satisfied by that. There’s a victorious smirk on her face, and it’s safe for him to assume she’s also feeling pretty good about what she just did.

What an interesting woman, he thinks. All that sass and eloquence are certainly eliciting his curiosity, and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he can’t help but feel slightly turned on by this stranger.

Interesting, indeed.

While Damian is still trapped in his thoughts, a round of applause takes over the airplane, as people congratulate the raven-haired girl. They pat her shoulders, thank her for getting rid of those girls, and she even laughs once the old lady behind her tells her they don’t make girls like her anymore. For a quick moment, she becomes the hero they didn’t know they needed, and for sure, this is going to be a pleasant story to tell during Christmas dinner.

They will portray her as the girl who saved their flight.

Damian, however, will portray her as the one who told his fangirls to fuck off.

He really needs to thank her for that. Fortunately, he will have over six hours to do that.

Before the Wayne heir can bring himself to form the words in his head, the girl is placing her small bag in the compartment above their heads. As she lifts her arms, her shirt lifts, momentarily exposing her belly. Even if it was just for a brief second, she catches him staring, and once their eyes meet, he looks away, his cheeks growing slightly warmer.

He sees as she slowly shakes her head before sitting next to him, and though he was not expecting a girl such as her, he’s currently thanking the superior forces for the partner destiny has chosen to be his seat-mate. She’s beautiful, her voice is not annoying, and the best part is that she doesn’t seem to give a crap about who he is.

Maybe he’s finally going mad because of— well— everything, but right now, Damian trulls believes that he might even fall in love with this girl.

A sly smirk takes over his lips, and he can’t help but stare at her for a little too long. She watches as he does so, and as expected, she doesn’t feel embarrassed or inhibited at all. Instead, she stares back, eyes squinting a bit in sheer mockery. A questioning look spreads across her face, and he decides that he should be the one saying something. Anything, really.

“You’re mean.” He states, as if that’s the biggest truth in the world. She tilts her head, but his words don’t seem to affect her.

“So what?” She asks, not really caring about his answer as she fastens her seatbelt. ”If you didn’t like the way I talked to your fan girls, you can go and apologize to them, be their hero or whatever. Though, if you’re really gonna go meet them at the bathroom cabinet, I suggest we switch seats so we don’t bump knees every time you have to go.”

She’s a spirituous one, he notices. And if he’s not careful, he might be the next victim of her graciously rude words. “Nah, don’t worry about it. As you’ve pointed out before, I don’t even remember their faces anymore. Your knees can rest assured.”

“Thanks, I guess?” She lifts her brows, not bothering to spare him another glance as she adjusts her dark clothes. There’s a book resting over her lap— Christmas Carol, for what he can see— and she uses her small fingers to tug a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Yeah…” He shakes his head, forcing himself to focus. “By the way, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I am Damian— “

“Save it. I know who you are, Wayne. I might not be the most updated person in this world, but even Eskimos know your family. Don’t worry, though. I promise I’m not a disguised reporter or an annoying fangirl.”

“Not with that attitude, you’re not. Your clear lack of interest in my personal life can only be matched by only one other person I know.”

“Oh, really?” She asks, her eyes now turning to face him. Now that they’re so close to each other, he can see how bright they really are, and for a moment, he thinks she might even have hypnotic powers because he just can’t look away. There’s a curious tone lingering over her words, and he wants to believe she’s actually paying attention to him this time. “And who would that be, if I may ask?”

“My father.” He answers bluntly, and he notices as she she chokes back a giggle. There’s a soft smile decorating her lips now, and the surrounding atmosphere feels a lot lighter.

“Rachel Roth.” She sticks out her hand to him, and without hesitation, he shakes it carefully. Her hand is soft against his calloused one, and he notices the way she brushes her thumb over his skin. It’s a delicate and pure gesture, so fleeting that makes him wanting more as soon as he releases her from his grip.

“Well, Rachel…” Her name rolls out of his tongue as he tests the sound of it. It has a nice ring to it, he notices. “I think I need to thank you for saving me from a huge headache back then. Seriously, I owe you one.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I didn’t really do it for you, so you don’t need to thank me or anything. I just wanted them to get out of my seat, that’s all.”

“Selfish or not, you still got rid of them, so… thanks. “

“Well, if that’s the case, you’re welcome, Damian.” Rachel nods at him, the same smile still decorating her face. She picks up her book, then, flipping through the pages so she can pick up from where she had left. The way she says his name— so simple and unpretentious— makes his lips curl upwards, and all the bad feelings from before disappear.

This girl— Rachel— she’s showing what a life away from the streets and the business meetings must feel like. The conversation flows easily and effortlessly, to the point where it’s hard to believe they’ve met not even 30 minutes ago. It feels natural in a way very few things in his life do, and though he knows it’s not meant to last, at least he will cherish this moment before it turns into a fading memory in the depths of his mind.

Moments of pure joy shall fade into oblivion, that’s one of the most important rules of his life.

Thankfully, the internet is forever.

An unexpected buzz inside his pants breaks his train of thought. At first, he decides to ignore it, but after the third time, he gives up on the idea. Silently, he scoffs in annoyance, fishing his phone from his pocket. He presses the side button, then, the screen lighting up to reveal a couple of notifications. His eyes, though, land on three particular messages from his family’s group chat:

Grayson: I ship it

Drake : what happened, Damian? Are you okay?? Todd : hot and feisty. The best kind of girl, little bro

His brows furrow in confusion at his brothers’ messages. For what he can conclude, they’re talking about a girl he knows and has interacted with, but that’s pretty much it. The only female human in his mind right now is Rachel, and there’s no way for them to be talking about her. He’s not being followed or bugged, for all he knows— and he knows.

Something strange is happening, and he wants to know what. The youngest Wayne, then, texts them a single ‘?’ and almost immediately, Dick sends him a link to an Instagram page. He’s growing more confused with every additional information, but figures it must be just another one of Grayson’s stupid pranks.

He sighs at the thought. Isn’t he a bit too old for that?

An annoyed pout takes over his lips as a clear sign that he just wants to get this stupid thing over with. Once he taps on the link, though, it takes less than a second for his eyes to widen and his bored expression change into a surprised one. The video playing is muted, but he doesn’t need any volume or subtitles to know what the raven-haired girl in it is saying.

Oh… That angle does make her look nice.

He blinks twice as he allows the whole thing to sink in. Apparently, all of that show earlier was recorded by some cameras and posted all over the internet. There are many posts about it, with all possible captions and comments about them, and he has to admit some are quite creative. Apparently, they’re the new internet hits, not that Damian really cares about it. He’s used to all the lies and overreacted dramas, but if he were to be honest, this one is making him quite intrigued.

Not by the gossip itself, no. That would never happen.

This time, he’s intrigued by how the girl next to him will react as soon as she finds out.

From the corner of his eyes, he watches as she’s calmly reading her book, waiting for the plane to take flight. She’s immersed in Charles Dickens’ words, and it’s like the entire world around her can’t interrupt her. It’s just her and the book, and for she hasn’t touched her phone since her arrival, he’s quite sure she doesn’t know what’s happening in the digital world.

At least, not yet.

He’s definitely going to tell her.

“Uh… Rachel? ”

“Yes, Damian?” She answers, her eyes not bothering to leave the pages of the book.

“Just a quick question… How do you feel about being the center of attentions? “

“I hate it. Why?”

“Well, you might have to reconsider this…” His voice falters and he slowly massages the back of his head.

“Oh, and why would I do that?” She looks at him, at last, her brows now arched. Her expression is blank, and he suddenly wants to laugh because she has no idea of what’s coming.

“Here, check this out. ”

He gives her his phone, a smirk decorating his face. Slowly, he watches the video playing once again on the small screen, all life slowly fading from her pretty face. Her eyes widen, her lips part, and she places her fingers on her left temple. Her cheeks are growing redder than a tomato, and once the video ends, she is completely dumbfounded.

“Wha-what the hell!?“ A couple of seconds pass until she says something, her voice a little too loud, and her eyes filled with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “What’s the meaning of this, Damian!?”

“Well, I think people enjoyed your bossy words from many different angels”” He starts, taking his phone back and scrolling through his time line. His voice sounds too excited for her liking, and it’s easy to tell he’s trying to hold back a laughter. “You went viral, Rachel. ”

“No no no no.” She repeats, slowly shaking her head in denial and taking her own phone in hands. With trembling fingers, she opens her Instagram page and a rush of follows and mentions makes her eyes widen even more. “I can’t believe this is happening. ”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” Damian tries to calm her down, but the joy in his voice takes all of his credit away.

“Not that bad?!” Her eyes are glaring at him now, cheeks puffed in pure anger. “I got remixed, Damian!”

A sly smile takes over his lips, and he’s]really trying not to laugh in front of her. “And it’s a good remix. Besides, for what I can see, most people are on our side.”

“Our side? I was just trying to reach my seat. There’s no our side, Damian.”

“Well, apparently, there is. Look.” He leans towards her, absentmindedly, until he’s close enough to feel her embarrassment exhaling from her. Their knees are brushing, but neither of them seems to be aware of that closeness right now. He shows her his phone one more time, a couple of comments now displayed. “Some people are even shipping us already. #Damirae.”

A defeated whimper escapes her lungs, and finally, she locks her phone-screen. Apparently, Rachel can’t look at all that anymore, and decides to just sink into the seat. Her hands are covering her face, and her voice is muffled when the next words come out. “Ugh, this is a nightmare.”

“Try looking at the bright side. This video can make you famous. I’m sure the media already loves your sarcasm. “

“If you haven’t noticed, Wayne, I’m a goth.” She spreads her hands across her face so she can look at him through the space between her fingers, and he can’t help but find that utterly adorable. “I don’t do bright side. ��

“God, you’re so dramatic.” He also locks his phone, placing it back inside his pockets. His torso turns around so he can face her properly, that same smirk still planted on his lips. “It’s just a video, relax. Most people will soon forget about it.”

“Some people? And what about the others?” Her voice is lower now, shier, as if she’s really seeking some sort of comfort— not that he’s even trying to offer her any.

“Oh, we will remember this forever, don’t worry.” A dry chuckle escapes his lips, and he notices the way her expression melts in response, tension and nervousness now gone.

Damian is having the time of his life, not only because the video was, indeed, funny; but also because he’s getting to see another side of this interesting girl who’s sitting next to him. Even if she really is bothered by the whole thing right now, eventually, he trusts that she will get over it and realize that no one gives a damn about stuff like that.

It’s just a temporary thing. A funny story for the future.

Rachel will survive it. And he—well…

He’s just found himself an excuse to follow her on Instagram.

“You jerk.” She chuckles, finally placing her hands on her lap and adjusting her posture. She takes a deep breath, then, as if she’s trying to recompose herself, but he notices the way she shrinks a little once she realizes the couple next to them are staring. Her body turns towards his, a sign that she feels somehow safe with him.

And for that, he’s extremely glad.

“That’s a new thing.” Damian states, mockery no longer lacing his voice.

“What is?” The girl questions.

“You’re laughing.”

“So what?”

“It’s nothing, really. It’s just… cute.”

Her cheeks grow red once more and she bites her lips. For a fraction of a second, she turns away from him, but soon, her amethyst eyes are once more looking into his emeralds ones. “Shut up, will you? You’ll need more than that if you want your Damirae fantasy to come true.”

“Oh, so are you saying I have a chance, Rachel?” He teases, knowing very well she didn’t mean it like that. Still, he figures he can’t waste this opportunity. “Are you sure you’re not a disguised fangirl? “

“You wish, Wayne.“ She smirks, offering him a side glance as she picks up her book again. “And I never said that.”

“You didn’t say the other way around, either.”

“Good point.” She nods, acknowledging his words instead of trying to deny them. “I guess you have the entire flight to make sure I keep it that way…”

There’s a flirty tone in her voice, and instantly, the Wayne heir is up for the challenge. Their eyes meet again, and for a moment, he thinks she’s checking him out. They smile at each other, exchanging that you-know-what look, and right now, he doesn’t think this flight will be long enough.

He wants to know more about her. He wants to play this push-and-pull game, and more than anything, he wants her phone number. And Damian Wayne win’t stop until he gets what he wants.

At last, the pilot makes his announcements, and for once, they break eye contact when the flight attendant passes by their seats, closing the compartment above their heads. Seat-belts are fastened, tables are up, and the crew is ready. They’re ready to take off.

fin.

-----

a/n: Well, there are not enough words to describe how much trouble I had with these prompts. I gave up on so many ideas and got so mad at everything that I’m impressed I even managed to write something in the end. Still, I’m glad to have written this one. I had a lot of fun with the dialogues and with every smirk I wrote! Hope you’ve enjoyed it, and please, tell me what you think!

#damirae #damirae fanfiction #damirae week 2021 #damian x raven #damirae fanfic #mydamiraefics

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xoxo-teddybear · 4 years

Text

Oh, The Lies You Tell - Bakugou Katsuki - pt. 6

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, trauma, abuse, betrayal, fluff, slice of life, smut, cursing, manipulation, possible spoilers, physical harm, 18+

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Ep. Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, touching n’ teasing,

Summary: it’s Saturday! Time for Y/N and Bakugou to head out on their official date. The end is what sets off the fireworks and where it all begins.

A/N: Still kinda short BUT the next part is where it gets juicy. So stay tuned.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

You awoke to another day. The sunlight was beaming through your window and the sweet scent of caramel invaded your senses. The warm atmosphere hugged you along with a very muscular arm. You looked to your side and saw Katsuki sleeping peacefully. You smiled at the sight of him.

Katsuki really was your dream. And he was definitely your hero. Even though you weren’t completely out of the dark, he gave you a break from it. The dark life you knew was locked away whenever Katsuki came into your line of vision. Just him being around had you gleaming. You knew what had to be done once the mission was over, and you would have to wake up from this dream. It was going to be short. You were gonna wake up soon, and so you reveled in every second of it. You pressed in closer to him as he began to stir awake.

“Mm...hey princess.” He said, hugging you closer. You giggled at his morning voice. It was so very gruff and deep but it had a soothing melody to it. It settled your nerves and had you in a peaceful state.

“G’moring Suki.” He finally opened his eyes to look at you. He smiled at your beautiful state and pecked your forehead. “So..you know what day it is today right?”

“Of course I know, ya brat. It’s Saturday. Time for our official date.” He smiled at the fact and was very excited for what was to come, but staying in bed with you all day cuddling sounded like euphoria.

“Exactly Suki! So let’s get up!” You said sitting up and tugging on his arm. He groaned as you left his side and pulled at him.

“Mmmm....Y/N why don’t we just stay here and cuddle for our date. Sounds great to me,” he smiled as he pulled you back down to his side.

“That sounds amazing but spending the day and doing stuff with my....” he opened his eyes and looked at you waiting for an answer. “Heh...uhm, you, sounds even better.”

Bakugou gave a small smile at your answer. He thought you were adorable. You guys didn’t have an established relationship but it was clear something was there. He felt something strong and he knew you did too. He had only known you for almost a month, but it was love at first sight for him.....he loved you.

“Ya know dumbass, staying in bed and cuddling all day means you would technically be doing stuff with me,”

“Katsuki.”

“*Sigh* Yeeeaaah, I know princess.” He sat up and stretched out. “We’ll go on that date.”

You released a squee and Bakugou just couldn’t stop smiling. Why were you so damn cute?

“C’mon, get ready and I’ll meet you in the common rooms. Then we can go. Okay?” Bakugou said.

“Mhm!” And with that Bakugou gave you a quick kiss that you happily returned and left to get ready. You got up, showered, got dressed and said goodbye to Rumor. You finally met with Bakugou in the common rooms.

“Ready to go Princess?” He said smiling.

“Definitely.” Bakugou was definitely a happier person with you around. He wasn’t as angry and wasn’t as aggressive as before. You bettered him. And you weren’t as upset and cold hearted anymore. He bettered you. You were so appreciative of him and how he’s done good for you, but you were feeling so guilty at the same time.

Bakugou was so good to you. He treated you with so much care and..love, and you tried doing the same but it was wrong for you to do it. You truly did love spending time with him and sharing these loving touches but you were basically leading him on. You could never truly be with him. You would eventually have to return to the league and that would break both you and him. But your head and your heart were at war, and so even though your head decided it was wrong for you to be with him, your heart went against it. Which lead you to this moment.

“I want you to officially be mine.”

The request made your eyes go wide. You and Bakugou were at the end of your date. He took you to a carnival, then brought you to a picnic at a park and then he took you to a secluded part in the forests where cherry blossoms bloomed. You both were resting on a cherry blossom tree on a hill as the golden sun painted the valley when he decided to pop the question.

“W-what?” You asked him. He smiled at you and released a laugh of nervousness.

“Y/N..I want you to be my girlfriend.” He looked at you with loving eyes as he spoke and held both your hands. You only stared at him in shock as your mouth opened and closed trying to find the right words.

“Katsuki...I-...look I-“

“Do you not want to be with me?” He questioned you with a scared tone. He was really nervous now and was kind of shaking. He still held a hopeful look on his face but you could see how his lip slightly trembled away from his smile.

However, the question saddened you. You finally settled your nerves before speaking and putting a hand on his cheek. You took note at how he leaned into your palm, and that made you smile.

“Suki..of course I want to be with you..I want to be your girlfriend.” Bakugou’s head arose from your hand and he smiled, his nerves settling and he stopped shaking. His grip on your hands got a little tighter due to him being so happy.

“But are you sure you want to be with me?”

“What?” He kinda laughed as he replied. Were you insane? You’re amazing! How could he not want to be with you. If anything, he should be asking you that question.

“Princess, what the hell are you talking about?” He asked.

“You barely know anything about me. Believe me, you know a lot more than anyone else, but there’s still a big part of me that you should know before deciding to-“

He cut off your rambling by quickly pulling you in and giving you a comforting kiss. The kiss was deep as you finally chose to fall into it, embracing his warm lips and sweet taste. You both finally separated to continue your talk as Bakugou placed his forehead to yours.

“I told you to tell me when you were ready. Don’t tell me at all for all I care, I just want to be with you.” He softly said.

“Suki..when you find out what it is you won’t want me anymo-“

“Would you stop saying that?! Nothing you could ever say or do could keep me away from you!” He stated.

“You don’t know that!”

“But I do! Y/N I love you!”

The world stilled at his confession. Katsuki Bakugou. UA’s resident hot head. The angry Pomeranian. Lord explosion murder. The guy who you loved also loved you. Pools of tears began to fill your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You were so happy. Love. Something you never thought you would ever be allowed to experience. In this moment, you didn’t care about your titles and sides or light and dark. In the moment, it didn’t matter if you were a villain and he a hero. It was just you and him. And...

“I-..I love you too Katsuki.” You confessed. You said it back. And it felt so right! You wanted to let the whole world know. You loved Katsuki Bakugou.

He smiled again and you both jumped back into a passionate kiss. He held you tighter than ever as you sat on his lap. Your hands went to wrap around his neck and pull him in deeper. The warmth of the sun danced across your bodies, the song of the soft breeze that carried the flowery scent wrapped you both in a refreshing hug. It was like something of a new start for the both of you. Where you both were in the clear. You both had an understanding. You are his and he is yours. Officially. The feeling had you floating off the ground.

When you both separated, you both shared a loving look. A smile grew on Bakugou’s face and you copied his action. The sweet comforting silence that was now so familiar to you both returned until you both spoke at the same time.

“I love you.”

You both shared a smile and a look of shock before you both released small laughs as you hugged each other. You both cuddled in the sunlight and settled for staying there for a little more before returning to the dorms.

The feeling felt so right. Even though on your end it was so wrong, the way he hugged you, kissed you, embraced you, and loved you proved otherwise.

——————————————————————————

The week continued and 1-A rejoiced around the happy couple. The Bakusquad was physicked for their angry friend, thanking whatever entity that he found someone to tame the demon inside. The couple became the iconic duo of the school. Both incredibly good looking, incredibly powerful, incredibly talented, and all and all, incredible.

Class 1-A relaxed in the common room on a Friday, excited for what was to come on Monday.

“Can you believe the battle competition is coming so soon?!” Mina said.

“I know right! I think it’s clear 1-A will be winning and kicking ass. Especially with Y/N around.” Sero said.

“Well we can’t always be sure. A lot of other schools have really good fighters.” Kirishima said. “Like that one windy guy from Shiketsu who went against Todoroki.”

“Inasa Yoarashi.” Todoroki corrected.

“Quit worrying you idiots. We’ve got some powerhouses of our own in this lame ass class.” Bakugou said as he relaxed and layed on the couch, taking up the whole space for himself.

“Is that a compliment?” Todoroki asked.

“I’m talking about me and Y/N, Icy-Hot.” Bakugou clarified.

“Figures,” Kaminari laughed out.

“Somebody say my name?” Y/N said as she walked into the common rooms with Rumor.

“Hey babe,” he said opening his eyes to look at you. You smiled and leaned down to his resting head on the couch to give him a quick peck. Bakugou sat up so you could sit on his lap.

“And here she is, class 1-A’s resident pretty girl model with her boyfriend, class 1-A’s hot head.” Kaminari joked.

“Put a sock in it, Sparky.” Bakugou said while glaring at the boy. How dare he compliment his girl.

The group laughed until Midoriya walked in.

“I can’t wait for the competition!” He brought up the battle competition again. Everyone grew excited and continued the conversation but your head just got lost and strayed away in thought.

Flashback

“JUST TELL ME THE NEW DATE!” Shigaraki screamed into the earring.

“I- I mean are we even sure we wanna go through with this?!” You nervously laughed out, trying to convince the league to drop the whole attack.

“TITANIA! YOU ARE A VILLAIN WITH THE LEAGUE! YOU ARE MY SUBORDINATE AND YOU WILL DO AS I SAY OR ELSE THEY’LL BE HELL TO PAY!! HOW DARE YOU TRY AND REFUSE ME!” He screamed

“I’m sorry!” You replied with tears down your face and a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs.

“Y/N! ...Have you gone soft?!” Shigaraki questioned.

“N-No! No sir! I swear!” You tried to convince him.

“You better have not. Now tell me the new date. NOW!” You flinched at his screaming and finally gave in.

“This coming Monday! We’re leaving at 9:00 a.m.” you said.

“You’ll send me the coordinates when you’re there. Understand?” He asked.

“.........yes.”

“Good girl. Oh, and Y/N?” He questioned.

“Yes sir?”

“Don’t let those little heroes get to your head. You’re rotten to the core. Don’t forget it.”

Present Time

“Princess.....Princess!.....Y/N!” Bakugou said as he finally shook you out of your daydream.

“Huh? I’m sorry,” you said apologizing for dazing off.

“You okay? You got really quiet,” Bakugou asked you with concern. He held you tight as you sat in his lap trying to shake your mind of the memory.

“I’m..I’m okay. I promise.” You reassured him.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You smiled at his care and pecked his cheek.

“I’m okay, love. Swear.” You said.

“Okay,” he said and cuddled into your neck. The class awed at the cute couple and Bakugou glared them off before returning to cuddles.

You were thankful for his care but worried of what was to come. Soon, bloodshed and violence would tear through and you would partially be responsible for it. It made you ache inside but you put up a strong facade.

The class continued their talks before opting to head to bed. Once inside your dorm and you and Katsuki were in bed, he brought up a conversation topic.

“What was up with you earlier princess? You seemed kind of out of it.” He asked as you were both face to face in bed.

“Nothing to worry about Suki. My mind just drifts off when I get bored of a topic.” You explained.

“Makes sense. It was that damn nerd talking after all so I don’t blame you.” He said while bringing you into his chest to cuddle.

“Heh..yeah.” Your mind wandered off as silence came over the room. Both you and him were tired after your day and so sleep was very much needed. However, there was a topic on your mind that you couldn’t seem to shake ever since you guys started officially dating.

“Umm...Suki?” You spoke up.

“Yea Princess?” He asked with shut eyes.

“...You...You know I’m not like these other girls..right?” You said with your head buried in his chest, avoiding his concerned look.

“What do you mean?” He asked with worry laced in his voice.

“I-....I’m not as great as them. I’m not an innocent good girl or a pretty pink princess,” you paused as you thought very carefully about your next words, “I’m a delinquent. A rebellious bad girl who used to be in and out of jail as a child. I’m...me.”

“I know you’re you, and I thank every god for that.” Bakugou began. You gave him a look of confusion and hope as he continued. “Yeah, you used to be a delinquent and you used to commit crimes, with good reasons, and you used to...well you’re still a little rebel to be honest,” he laughed out.

“Hey,” you giggled and smacked his bare chest.

“But...those are some things I love about you.” He admitted. You looked at him in confusion once more before you spoke.

“Explain.” He sighed in embarrassment before speaking.

“You were a delinquent. A criminal. A little devil. A bad girl. A rebel..well you still are-“

“Why don’t you just take a gun and shoot my self esteem while you’re at it,” you sarcastically said.

“Sorry,” he began, “but really, those parts of you are what made you who you are today. Not only that, but because of your bad girl past, it does well for me. Growing up, I was always a straightforward kid with a passion for being a hero. Meaning, I was pretty strict with myself on rules, meaning I didn’t really get to have fun as a kid or do the bad things that kids usually do.” He explained but it was clear you were still confused.

“Y/N, you fucking dumbass, what I’m trying to say is that you bring out a me I never got to enjoy. Your rebellious self encouraged me to have fun and explore and be a normal teen. And no offense or anything, but you do go off the rails time to time, so I’m glad you have me to keep you out of trouble. I just really feel like we were made for each other, Princess,” he said and brought your hand up to give it a kiss.

“I don’t care if you’re not a pretty pink princess because you’re a rebellious red queen. I don’t care if you’re not an innocent good girl because you’re a mischievous badass. And I know you’re not as great as those other girls.....you’re better and you’re the best.” His words almost brought you to tears and you swore you would’ve started bawling if it wasn’t for the fact that he kissed away the first tear drop that fell.

“Thank you Katsuki.....I really needed to hear that.” You said smiling and hugging him.

“I’ll always be here for you Princess. Don’t forget it.” He said and pecked you’re forehead. “Now get some sleep, okay?”

“Yeah..okay.”

——————————————————————————

Time skip! You and Katsuki have now been together for a short amount of time, but the amount of time you have spent together even before you were dating just holds so much chemistry. You guys feel like you’ve known each other for years. A very cute couple indeed.

Now it was a Monday morning and the class was just waiting for the bus to arrive to take them to the competition. Aizawa let you guys just roam the classroom as he napped in his bag.

You were hanging with the Bakusquad in a little corner enjoying the laughs and yourselves. You were trying to distract yourself from the inevitable. Soon, once you’ve arrived at the location, you would have to send the league your coordinates so they could arrive and launch the first attack. Safe to say it was making you nervous, but luckily for you, you had an angry Pomeranian to calm your nerves. And he didn’t even have to try, all he had to do was just be there.

“Hey princess,” Bakugou said once the squad walked away.

“Yeah Suki?” You asked.

“Remember how last night I said you encourage me to explore and adventure more?” He said with his hands in his pockets as he looked everywhere else but at you.

“Yeaaahhhh? Why?” You again, asked.

“Wellllll,” he began finally looking at you with a smirk and taking his hand out to pull you in closer by the waist, “I was wondering if my amazing, adventurous, hot as fuck, rebellious-“

“Get to it Suki,” you said with a slight chuckle. Bakugou just smirked some more and pulled you into his chest and whispered into your ear.

“I want my little bad girl to help me explore and enjoy my first time,” Bakugou said. His hot breath warmed your skin and he began to pepper your neck in soft kisses. You bit your lip before pushing him back just enough for eye contact.

“You wanna fuck?” You said with a giggle.

“As long as it’s with you, yes.” He confidently said. You continued to slightly laugh at his little needs. Now you were no virgin. Growing up the bad girl and villain you were, you had your fair share of one night stands. You definitely had experience and could definitely show Katsuki a real good time for his first time but right now was not the time for his shenanigans.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as his other hand went to your waist. You whispered into his ear as you spoke with a seductive voice.

“I’d be more than happy to show you a good time, love,” and once you said that, his hands went to grip at your ass causing you to quietly moan into his ear. The sound made him bite his lip as he looked down at your perfect peach. Oh how he wanted to hear more, however, you had other plans.

“But this is not the time for your horny desires, Suki.” You said as you quickly pulled yourself away from him, leaving him hanging. You laughed at his little whine that he released once he lost contact but just sat yourself on the desk across from him and faced him.

“Why not?” He whined out.

“Gee, for a virgin you sure are desperate,” you said giving off a very confident and cool vibe.

“Well yeah, how can I not be when I have the hottest and best girlfriend in the world?” You blushed at his words and he grinned noticing he got you to break your calm, collected, and “oh so cool” cover. You noticed the bus pulling in from the view you had from the window and knew what was coming.

An idea came to you and you looked around noticing most students left to walk out to the bus. The both of you were basically the only two left in the room. You walked to Katsuki as he sat in his seat and got real close in his face and began to flirtatiously speak.

“Suki..I’d be more than happy to have you fuck me right in your dorm room,” you said and took a seat on his lap, your sensitive area pressed against his own. You went up to his ear once more and began to whisper. “I really want you to do me rough and have me screaming your name all night.”

You began to grind into him, causing him to shutter in his seat and groan at the contact. Your dirty words coated in your sexy voice already sent a rush through him and now his hands returned to your ass as he squeezed it once more.

“Just imagine how nice my tight little cunt would feel wrapped around your big cock,” you said as your hand traveled to down his chest and to his clothed dick. You began to palm him through pants as his breath became heavy. “And I promise I’ll suck your dick real good as a reward when we’re done.”

He looked up at you and slowly leaned in for a kiss. Your free hand went up to the side of his face and pretended to fall into the kiss.

“However,” you stopped all your movements right before the bus honked its horn for any remaining students and got up from his lap, “all of that will have to wait until the end of this trip. Okay love?”

Bakugou only growled at you with a blush and frustrated look on his face. You looked down and chuckled at the little tent in his pants.

“Don’t let the others see your friend now Suki. That’s reserved for my eyes only,” you said as you pointed towards his boner.

“Hurry up and let’s get on the bus.” You said and then pecked his lips before leaving him in the room alone, exiting with a confident walk that Katsuki swore had more hip sway than usual.

Yeaahhhh, Katsuki was definitely a great distraction.

—

On the bus, Katsuki could not and would not keep his hands to himself. You were both seated next to each other in the back of the bus, and the two seated next to them, Sero and Todoroki, were asleep. Rumor also slept in the middle of the aisle. This gave Katsuki every perfect chance to feel up on his princess.

“K-Katsuki. Not here,” you said as his hands groped at your chest. Bakugou held a Cheshire grin on his face as his chin rested on your shoulder.

“C’mon princess, it’s only fair. You teased me so much already, I think it’s my turn for revenge,” he explained, “and look.”

You looked down to see that his hard on was still there. “You’re the reason I’m like this, don’t you think it’s fair that you are the one to fix it?” He asked.

You sighed as you pulled his hands away from your chest as you spoke. “I think you can deal with it yourself.”

Bakugou sighed in desperation. He looked around and saw everyone was tired, dazed, and either sleeping or too busy talking to take notice of what was going on in the back. Due to this, he grabbed your hand and placed it on his groin. He made you rub his boner, causing him to let out soft moans into your ear.

“Well then if you’re not gonna help me, the least you could do is settle my excitement.” You looked towards him then looked towards your hands. You weren’t gonna lie, this did rile you up a little bit, but you guys were in a school bus for goodness sake, y’all can’t fuck right here.

You looked up to face him as you rubbed him on a little better, earning breathy groans from him. You smirked as you allowed your free hand to pull his face in for a hot kiss. Your tongues tasted and explored each other, and you just felt Bakugou grow bigger. You finally separated and made a deal with him.

“Listen Suki, the next time we get close to a bed, then I’ll let you have your way with me,” you smirked as you spoke with a seductive voice. “You can use me, play with me, toy with me, and do me in whatever way you want, but only and only when we get near some bedding. Understand?”

Bakugou paused all movements as he thought about it. He growled in horny frustration as he settled for your deal. You pecked his cheek in appreciation for his cooperation and he calmed himself after that.

“Fineee princess. You win. We can wait till we get to a bed. But once we do, I get to ravish you.” He said with a confident grin.

“Yes sir,” you said mimicking his grin. You both fell back into a little makeout session to compromise for now. Once done, you placed your head on his shoulder as he dropped his head on yours. You both rested for the rest of the trip. Looking out the window, you noticed how the sky fell into a beautiful twilight with gold dusting it’s horizon.

It was calming. It made you feel at piece but of course the one thought in the back of your mind kept you on edge.

‘I’m on a mission. For the league. And I got sidetracked by an angry Pomeranian.....this is so wrong.’ You looked up towards Bakugou in adoration. He was everything you ever needed to feel complete. ‘I’m sorry Suki. I won’t blame you when you leave. But just let me enjoy this for now.’

You finally drifted into slumber with the warmth of Katsuki surrounding you. You could feel the dripping love he had for you, and it made you smile.

‘Yea. Let me just enjoy this.’

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silver-starlight-99 · 3 years

Photo

Monsters at Work: The Jokester Generation Part Four: Steps to an Uncertain Future

Be prepared for one doozy of an info-dump

youtube

One of the proudest moments of Tylor Benjamin Tuskmon’s life was the day he graduated Scarer Cum Laude from Monsters University. It was a hallmark moment for the entire Tuskmon family in fact; as he was the first in his familial line to graduate from college. Bernard and Millie Tuskmon couldn’t have been prouder of their son, and both were more than happy to share that act. From as young as five years old, little Tylor was awestruck by the Scarers of Monsters Inc., I imagine like many Monster children his age. But it wasn’t until the fourth grade that he made the decision to become a full-fledged Scarer once he came of age.

The boy was a natural talent, with his height and horns giving him quite the intimidating profile. But much like a certain green, one-eyed monster, Tylor wasn’t afraid to study like mad to perfect his skills, and made a hobby of collecting/memorizing every Scarer Card he could get his claws on. His parents, despite coming from more of a lower middle-class background, wanted to do everything they could to support their child when they saw the dedication he was putting into his dream-career. Bernard worked long nights at his family’s hardware store for years, and Millie even pawned off a number of family heirlooms, just to make enough to put their boy through college once the time came. Add on the special scholarship he received from one of the most prestigious Scaring Schools in the country, and it looked like everyone’s hard work paid off after all. Sure, that kind of laser-focussed dedication meant he wasn’t as sociable as most his age, but it was worth it if it meant being that much closer to his childhood dream.

Besides his graduation, the last time Tylor had this much attention on him was during the party hosted by Dean Knight in celebration of him breaking an old MU Scaring record as a part of his final exam. Beating even James P. Sullivan’s numbers on the Simulation Room, recorded from the monster’s time during the Scare Games. A fact that made its way across the school campus in record time, reaching the ears of a certain brother duo working in MU’s theater department. They were both friends with the infamous college dropout, and thought he’d be interested to hear his old title was being taken over by this new blood.

Even if he couldn’t remember the names of most of the people in attendance, despite having been in classes with them for years, Tylor couldn’t have been prouder, knowing all that hard work had been worth it. Especially so because before leaving the party, his teacher, Professor Shade, pulled him aside to tell him he’d received a letter of recommendation from Monsters Incorporated. Despite the controversies surrounding the company since the event deemed The Waternoose Scandal, Monsters Inc. was still considered one of the premiere energy factories in the country. And, looking at the young monster’s impressive list of accomplishments, the Board of Directors wanted to accept him as soon as possible.

This was everything Tylor Tuskman could’ve wanted. The chance to live his dream, make his family proud, and make his mark on the world of Scaring. He thought that after he graduated from college, it would be nothing but smooth sailings. Little did poor Tylor realize, he would make an astronomical impact on not just the Scaring world, but the Monster world as a whole. Just… not in the way he expected. And he had one of his former childhood heroes to thank for that.

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Most monsters would agree that everything began to change the morning The Waternoose Scandal was released to the public. Some would argue that it was the initial sighting of the Tiny Terror of Monstropolis at the now famous restaurant Harryhausen’s that got the ball rolling. Others say that the panic stirred by the escaped child was merely the spark that would ignite the true bonfire that would come to consume the city.

Tylor Tuskmon was just a bit too young to remember much of the hysteria itself. The almost two-year-old spent most of the time after the initial sighting held up in his family’s hardware store. While Bernard worked to keep his family safe and provide his neighboring Monsters tools they could use to defend themselves, should the dangerous creature be spotted in their neighborhood. It wasn’t until the next morning when Millie saw a televised announcement from the CDA giving a cautionary all-clear that the Tuskmons felt safe enough to take down the boards on their windows. They, along with many of their other neighbors, spent much of the day in a state of anxiety, with a confused Tylor trying to comprehend why everyone he knew was being so skittish and weird. By the following morning, it was announced that the CDA had located and returned the child back to it’s world, and their door was shredded for good measure. The Tuskmon parents heaved a sigh of relief as it seemed things could go back to normal. However, it wasn’t until three days later that the official story behind the escape was released to the public, and that initial air of dread would be replaced with something new.

Henry J. Waternoose Ⅲ, during a city-wide energy crisis, was diluting company funds and manipulating his employees to build a prototype for something he’d hoped would reinvent Scream-power extraction. While effective, it would put Scarers at a higher risk of contamination because of their closer interactions with human children. And he was willing to put Monster society on-a-whole in danger by kidnapping thousands of kids in order to maintain his machine’s efficiency. The Tiny Terror was just the guinea pig to test the prototype. If all this chaos was the result of a single child escaping his grasp, who knows what would befall Monstropolis if a small army of them were able to revolt from their captors? If not for the courageous, somewhat fool-hearty, actions of Monsters Incorporated’s top Scaring team, the situation could’ve been much worse. Thankfully, Mr. Waternoose was quickly apprehended, any known conspirators were questioned, and the CDA would remain vigilant in locating any other associates. One of which being Randal Boggs, another of Monsters Incorporated’s top Scarers, who seemed to have fled the city while James Sullivan and Mike Wazowski focussed their attention on the true head of operations.

Between the media coverage of the CEO’s trial, dealing with the continuing energy crisis, the protests that arose from Monsters angered by the gross negligence of Waternoose’s Scream Extractor plan, and the lingering anxiety from the initial child sighting, things in Monstropolis would remain… let’s say hectic for a while. Because of The Waternoose Scandal, Anthropophobia was at an all-time high, especially in Monstropolis, where there were more than enough monsters happy to use that lingering paranoia to their advantage. You’d be surprised by the amount of small and big-budget movies that were produced in response to the whole affair. Along with Monstropolis politicians that would use this instance to promote themselves as beacons of safety during election campaigns. Not to mention the dozens of Monsters who’d use The Waternoose Scandal as a way to sell cheap junk to gullible tourists believing they were purchasing actual weapons used against a human.

Meanwhile, as trust in Monsters Inc. was beginning to dwindle, the same could not be said for the CDA. Mike and Sully may have received the lion’s share of attention and praise for their efforts, but public approval for the Child Detection Agency had reached new heights for their supposed work in apprehending Waternoose and detaining the dangerous child. And as long as the heroes of the hour were “willing” to vouch for the good work of Roz and her subordinates, she was willing to overlook certain incriminating details that may have fallen through the cracks as she wrote up her report.

It would be two years since The Waternoose Scandal before the dust would truly settle. While the fear of Humans would remain in the city, much of the initial mania had long-since died down. Despite receiving a life sentence in the Monstropolis Maximum Security Prison, the former CEO would pass on due to heart complications just a year into his confinement. Since then, Monsters Inc’s Board of Directors had appointed new CEO, a squirrely fellow named Hunter Tycroft, who was more than willing to comply with the CDA’s occasional sweeps of the factory in hopes of discovering any lingering documents involving Waternoose’s plans for the Scream-Extractor.

As for Mike and Sully, they would eventually go on to continue their good work as the best Scaring team in the city, even breaking the all-time Scaring record; a dream they’d both shared since their first days on the job. A young Tylor Tuskman, along with many of his peers, would watch in awe from their televisions as mayor Titus Fangmore himself held a ceremony to congratulate the two for their good work. But to those who truly knew the duo, their fire, that initial passion for their work that drove them to achieve such records, had been fading ever since Waternoose’s arrest. They did their part to help with the energy crisis, but between Sully’s bout of depression and Mike’s aggravation over the constant harassment by the press, the two were going through the motions for a while. But with each other’s support, they would eventually get their heads back in the game, and their normally cheerful personalities would return. To the general public, it seems like things were finally going back to some sense of normal.

But trust me, in a few years, the duo idolized as heroes, would soon become the center of a cultural upheaval that would drastically affect both Monsters Incorporated and the Monster world as a whole.

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By the 10-year anniversary of The Waternoose Scandal, things in Monstropolis had almost returned to normal. Sure, there would be the occasional conspiracy theorist looking to stir up the populace, something that was becoming easier through the development of technology and social media. But of course, most Monsters are quick to dismiss the more outlandish stories. I mean, come on; The CDA blackmailing Mike and Sully into assisting with the capture of a door-hopping child? It sounds like a fun idea for a movie, but that’s just the kind of speculative fiction Monsters make up to milk whatever nostalgia they can from a big event. Something like that couldn’t have actually happened and been covered up, right?

Well, whatever the case, Mike and Sully are brought in for an interview on national news to commemorate the anniversary, with many of Monstropolis’ citizens tuning in. And while some of the two’s answers can’t help but feel a bit… scripted at times, things go smoothly. That is, until the end, where Mike and Sully decide to make an announcement. For what feels like the first time since the initial incident, the two choose to be more earnest about their time with the human child. It’s not enough to technically break the vow of silence they had with the CDA, but it’s enough to talk about one specific experience.

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It happened all at once, so they didn’t think much of it at the time, but there was something about that instance that always stood out to them. Monsters had always believed it was a child’s screams that powered their world, yet a giggle had enough energy that it could blow out an entire apartment’s worth of appliances? They only had a few experiences to go by, but Mike and Sully were at least open to exploring Laugh power as an alternative energy source for their world. After living through, and being forced to work to their limits during an intense power crisis, there was something appealing about Monsters being able to harvest ten times the normal amount of energy from a single kid. Of course, all of this was just working off of theories, but the Scarers were eager to reach out to others who’d help them test their ideas. After all, if this was as successful as they believed it could be, this could completely revolutionize the power-production industry. That is, if the higher-ups within that same industry were willing to accept the possibility of treating children as something other than a toxic battery.

Yeah, unsurprisingly, a majority of Monster society had… let’s say conflicted opinions about this. This wasn’t the first time the idea of alternative energies was brought to the general public, it’s not even the first time someone proposed something cleaner, sometimes with no necessity for a human. But in a world where companies like Monsters Incorporated, Fear Co and Scream Industries have a monopoly on power distribution, they made sure to deter any who posed a threat to their bottom line. Many of said companies have some sort of tie to major media outlets, so it doesn’t take much to persuade certain news stations to… alter the public perception of certain individuals. Or just scare the populace into a frenzy akin to the Satanic Panic of the 80’s at the mere mention of alternative energies. Monsters Bernard and Millie’s age can remember reading news articles in their high-school years about some kind of whack-job cult that believed the blood and teeth of human children could be turned into a reusable fuel, but only if pulled directly from the source. Of course such rumors were eventually debunked, but their purpose was fulfilled, and most major cities would come to totally rely on Scream energy. Leaving many of those same monsters who proposed a change to be publicly shamed into reconforming, or unable to build a functioning prototype for their idea because of a lack of funding.

But things were different for Mike and Sully. They weren’t some crackpot duo out to corrupt Monster society, these were the heroes of Monstropolis, the tops of their field in Scaring, and practically paraded by the CDA at any needed opportunity. And now, they’re saying they’re willing to give it all up because of a hunch from an incident over ten years ago? They’re claiming that the beings that have terrorized Monsterkind for hundreds of years are creatures that should be entertained and not terrified? Are human children even truly toxic?!

So, like I said, many in the monster world were split on this idea. Many of the older generation were quick to dismiss Mike and Sully’s idea, usually because of their own self-interests or internalized perceptions of humans. One thing’s for sure, it hurt Tylor when Barnard insisted they get rid of all his Mike and Sully memorabilias after the interview, the elder Tuskmon believing the Scarers were just trying to reclaim their fame from ten years ago by making up nonsense about children not being toxic. It was a sentiment shared by many Monster adults, unable to comprehend that such a seemingly obvious fact of their world was being challenged. For Tylor’s generation however… things get a bit complicated.

Of course, for kids like Tylor who grew up in a time where anthropophobia was on the rise in their formative years, a fear of Humans was ingrained pretty early on. But at the same time, these were kids that grew up during The Waternoose Scandal. The seemingly-irrefutable truths of their parents’ era were being questioned, or outright exposed for their corruption. Even if most Monsters of this younger generation were still brought up to be scared of humans, there was more than enough evidence for them to consider that perhaps alternative forms of energy production were worth looking into. Not to mention, with the total boom of human-themed horror films that were brought about by the The Waternoose Scandal, just as many human horror film fanatics come to root for the monsters in movies, there were many Monsters that became fascinated with humans because of such productions. While the Tuskmons may have considered their son to be a relatively good kid, in a fit of rebellion in his teen years, Tylor would occasionally sneak into his local movie theater to catch an age-inappropriate human-based horror movie.

As the young Monster would grow to hone his scaring skills, Mike and Sully were doing what they could to make leeway with their plan to bring Laugh power to Monstropolis, while dealing with the public backlash they were receiving as a result of their announcement. Sure the younger generation was open to the possibility, but they needed individuals with a little more credibility in the corporate field to build a working prototype. Not to mention the ever-daunting question of where exactly could they find Monsters that would be willing to be the test-subjects for such a project? Because of their… complicated background with the folks at the MU Scaring school, Sully didn’t think it wise to turn to them for help. Having the vocal support of a famous Scarer could’ve helped to give credibility to their idea, but as expected, most weren’t exactly willing to forfeit their Scaring careers or reputations on such an outlandish idea.

In the end, the only people they could get to listen to them were a little-known organization called CETHCA (Creatures for the Ethical Treatment of Humans and Children Alike.) Because the Monster world’s understanding of human behavior is so warped, this group could best be described as a weird human appreciation club that was managed by extraterrestrials. Unlike the general public, these individuals are actually curious to learn more about the habits of the human race, and have often tried to advocate for the proper treatment and compensation of children for their screams. Of course, the media does what they can to paint these people as attention-seeking wackjobs. Sully himself even remembers listening to Waternoose complain about a CETHCA protest during his early days as a Scarer, with the CEO painting the lot as a group just a few steps up from an organized cult, with its Monsters so desperate for validation they’d believe any dangerous notions their leaders told them.

But when they finally caught wind of Mike and Sully’s proposal, they decided to pull their resources together to try and boost the public’s support for the idea. It wasn’t quite the compensation for children they were hoping for, it was the first time in what felt like a long time someone in the energy business seemed to take an interest in showing these creatures some respect. Like I said, these guys are certainly more sympathetic to humans, but that doesn’t mean they have the experience to be able to see children as beings equal to them in sapience and intelligence. While they still didn’t have the most positive reputation in the eyes of the public, CETHCA had slowly received more members as dissatisfaction with Monsters Incorporated’s practices began to grow. And with the development of social media, what started as an eclectic group of Monsters was soon enough to form a decent following. And after getting to meet with Mike and Sully themselves, they took to the streets and the internet to spread the word of the power of laughter.

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It had been fifteen years since The Waternoose Scandal. While their glory years as Monsters Inc’s top Scarers may have been behind them, Mike and Sully remained figues of interest, for better and for worse. Their advocacy for Laugh power may have gained more legitimacy because of CETHCA’s efforts, but that didn’t mean many of their co-workers were quiet about their discomfort. If Scarers didn’t have what it took to make children laugh, many would need to be laid off in exchange for those who better fit the bill. In fact, a lot of Monster culture is based around a Monster’s scariness; for some it’s considered the measure of a true Monster. There are many businesses outside of Scream production that only exist to try and make a Monster look more threatening. If Laugh power proved to be more profitable, it meant not just a max layoff of Scarers, but a decline in the world’s economy, one Monsters may not be able to bounce back from. A few of Monsters Incorporated’s Scarers decided to transfer to other companies, or outright quit to pursue more stable jobs in these unsure times. If Mike and Sully weren’t doing their best to maintain Monstropolis’ energy levels, the higher ups probably would’ve fired them just to keep the company out of another scandal.

Which made it all the stranger when the two received a message from the Board of Directors. Beforehand, Monsters Inc. never gave an official statement on whether they were for or against the idea of Laugh power, still just trying to clean up the mess left behind from The Waternoose Scandal. But suddenly, Mike and Sully received an email stating that the company was interested in experimenting with Laugh power, if only to see for themselves if it was possible to multiply their energy output with just a few tweeks to the typical method. While skeptical, Sully was just relieved that someone in the higher ups was finally taking their idea seriously, and agreed. Mike was equally unsure of the Board’s intentions, but decided to use this to his advantage, managing to squeeze out a few work perks and a raise for him and Sully in exchange for his compliance.

From then on came the process of actually building the experimental “Laugh Floor,” and finding the right Monsters that would inevitably become the new faces of Laugh power production, aptly called Jokesters. Using one of the older Scare floors reserved for members of the occasionally-used night shift, they would begin to build the first Laugh floor. All that really needed to be modified for the process of energy extraction were the Scream canisters, to adjust to the larger amounts of output produced. To do so, the Board pulled some strings with their connections at Monsters University, having some of their Scream-Can focussed students earn extra credit by assisting with the prototypes. What took a bit more work to explain was the request for a simulation dummy that responded with laughter instead of screams. But hey, as long as MI was willing to be more lenient in accepting their Scaring school students after graduation, the university saw no need to question things further.

With most of the technical stuff sorted out, then came the difficult task of finding the right Jokesters. In the end, it was decided to be a mix of old Scaring pros to start things off, and then use them to train the fresher faces, as a way to prove that training was accessible to any who were open enough to try. Mike of course led the charge in Jokester training, working with Ms. Flint to create a step-by-step training guide to eventually be shared with other companies and Scaring schools. It was here where Mike saw his first recruit, Brian “Phlegm” Bile, a regular in the company’s simulation room who seemed to make a name for himself as the Monster to look to to see what not to do to Scare. The pratfalls that seemed to keep him from becoming a true Scarer made Phlegm a perfect Jokester candidate.

The next two actually reached out to Sully. Scaring legend Carla “Killer Claws” Benitez was interested in the potential of techniques that could produce larger amounts of energy, so she was willing to do her part, even at her older age, to keep the city she loved from having to deal with another energy crisis. For Rosie “Roaring” Levin, even if it came from a morbid curiosity than anything else, was curious to see how a more human-friendly form of energy-production would work, and so reached out to Sully to see what he had to say. Lastly, but definitely the most surprising, was Art. Yup, Mike and Sully’s old Oozma Kappa brother had certainly lived an interesting life since his graduation. Part of which included joining up with CETHCA, if only to try and broaden his own understanding of the world. He was actually the one to get the two Scarers connected with the organization. And now that they were ready to put things in action, he was happy to lend his services as a Jokester.

Mike included, that totaled to five Jokesters. An admittedly small number, but something they could hopefully make up for with their extra energy output. As Sully worked with the mechanical side of putting together the Laugh floor, Mike and Ms. Flint were using trial and error to turn these Scarers into Jokesters, and organizing their findings into a comprehensive manual for future trainees.

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It’s been twenty years since The Waternoose Scandal. It’s just days away from Tylor Tuskmon’s first day at Monsters Incorporated. Just a few days before this Scaring pro has his childhood dream turned on his head. Just two weeks before the city of Monstropolis learns that one of their biggest companies is going through some big managerial changes. And just a few days before a certain someone makes their official return to the city that changed their life forever. Will the Monster world be able to survive this inevitable upheaval? Who knows. Either way, I suggest you grab a snow cone, you’re gonna want a snack as we wait for this powder keg to go off.

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By the Gods! When I started writing these things, I had no idea it was gonna take me this long just to get through my backstory stuff! Ugh. Well, it’s finally done. And you know what? Back when I did part one, I said I wasn’t planning on turning my ideas into a full-fledged fan-fiction. Well guess what? After all the energy I put into this, I’d feel pretty sh*tty if I didn’t bother paying off all the stuff I was building up to. Yup, looks like I’m writing a fan-fiction for my Monsters at Work au thingy. Hopefully it shouldn’t take me a whole month before I make another post about this. But I won’t try to make promises I know I can’t keep. To the handful of people who bothered to stick around this long, and to read all of my previous rambly-posts, thank you. And I ask you to stay tuned. The Jokester Generation is on its way.

#monsters inc #monsters university #monsters at work #monsters at work: the jokester generation #au #tylor tuskmon #sully sullivan #mike wazowski #fanfic #lengthy post

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fandom-blackhole · 3 years

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Sinful Sunday THOTS

So I'm starting this so this more so for myself. I was thinking, I take everyone else THOTS, but why not share my own? So on Sundays from now on I am going to post a list of THOTS I had during the week that I wrote down!

This weeks in shorter because I just got the idea last night and wrote them all up delirious with no sleep, so sorry for mistakes, but other words enjoy!

Thank you @fuckyeahbeskar for talking about two of these THOTS with me, and for telling me I should post one of them because that is what gave me this idea 😘

Sinful Sunday Masterlist

Pairings: Paz Vizsla x Reader, Priest!Din Djarin x Reader, Ezra (Prospect) x Reader

Paz Vizsla x Reader

So I love sweet Paz and all but what about enemies to lovers Paz?

I've thought about this one for awhile...

So you are part of the mandalorian tribe that Paz and the remains of his tribe had joined. Immediately you and Paz started fighting, you weren't sure why, but just something about him rubbed at you. It wasn't uncommon for others to walk into a room and find you and Paz butting heads, literally. The two of you had been separated multiple times by the leader of your tribe and the armorer, just to keep you both from killing eachother. Eventually you decide to just start avoiding him and ignoring his presence, tired of fighting over stupid things. Unfortunately that lasted only a month before your leader called you into the armory for an assignment. He told you that you were being sent on a supply mission along with one of the warriors from the other tribe. You nodded and didn't think much of it until you were preparing the ship and Paz came strutting towards you. All you could do was clench your teeth and cross your arms asking him why he was here. He had only stared at you for a minute before saying, "I've been assigned to the supply mission." After that he finished loading the ship before heading to set up the controls. You just growled and sent a comm to your leader saying that if you survived this mission you were going to kill him.

The supply mission was to take two weeks, one to the planet where the supplies were stored and another to get back. The first two days the two of you stayed away from eachother. But on the third day the two of you started butting heads and arguing. On the 5th day Paz had managed to corner of of the ship and pin you to the wall, and in that moment you hated how flushed and hot you felt. You had to end up taking a cold shower to calm down.

When the two of you finally reached the planet and loaded the ship with supplies you were glad to be able to take some time away from Paz as you wandered the market while he was off bartering with the merchants. You made sure to take your time before walking back to the ship to find Paz FUMING. You just shrugged past him and onto the ship, totally ignoring his angry words about you being late and being an idiot and so on.

The first day back in hyperspace was spent avoiding eachother again, but that night you were over come with the need to touch yourself. You hated it but as you played with your clit all you could imagine was Paz’s body pressed against yours, pinning you in place, how he would feel slamming into you. Much to your frustration you came with a long groan of his name.

The next day found you and Paz fighting again unsurprisingly, but this time was different. This time, Paz once again pinned you to the wall before leaning down and whispering in your ear, "You know the walls of this ship are thin, and I could hear every moan last night. Was I mistaken when I heard my name as well?"

Could you only reply breathlessly as he moved his thigh between you legs, "You fucking wish Vizsla." And he leaned down close, bumping his helmet with your own as he pushed his thigh against you and whispering something quietly under his breath before saying, "Mmm maybe you need to be punished for lying." He immediately spanked you, and you couldn't help but moan and you could feel his smirk as he did it again. Before grabbing your ass roughing and saying that you were going to be sore tomorrow, he was going to make sure of it. Paz took no time at all before pulling you pants down and turning you around to face the wall. You angrily started to protest, but was immediately shut up with another smack to the ass, with which you could only moan brokenly. You heard Paz chuckle,, before spanking you again, before rubbing a hand over your flesh. Then he harshly pulled you back into his chest and kicked you feet apart before immediately pressing his glove covered finger tips to you clit. Paz then told you, "Im gonna make this pussy weep for me until you are begging for my cock." And he kept his promise. Paz brought you orgasm after orgasm and by your fifth you were already starting to beg him. He only growled in your ear and slapped you pussy saying, "You can do better than that. Beg. Me." You tried again, but it also result in another harsh slap. This time you let out a broken sob and whined out, "Please, fucking please pleasepleaseplease, Paz give your cock... I need to feel it inside of me so badly. Fuck me pleaaaassseeee."

And before you could even take a breath you felt him slam his enormous cock into you. You could only whimper at the stretch and curse Paz. He only chuckled and wait a few seconds, detailing everything he wanted to do to you before he started pounding into you so hard you could barely stand or think straight. Paz didn't let up and railed you through several more orgasms before he came deep inside you himself. Afterwards he carried you to bed and mockingly said, "Goodnight cyare."

The rest of the trip was spent with petty fights ending in fucking eachother senseless and by the time you arrived at the covert you found yourself somewhat disappointed that this was all going to end. But you were shocked when Paz turned to you after he had landed the ship and asked, "Marry me?"

You only smirked and said back, "Give me a good reason too, di'kut."

You heard him growl, before he pulled you onto his lap and said, "So I can look you in the eye as I fuck the life out of you, so I can finally shut that mouth of yours up with my cock down your thoat."

Let's just say that the other mandalorians avoided the ship for a few hours as they heard moans coming quite loudly from inside. The Armorer and the tribe leader both nodded to eachother and let out a sigh glad that they wouldn't have to deal with your shit anymore.

(In this THOT i also imagine Paz being absolutely infatuated with you from day one, and those feelings that rub at you is just intense attraction that you don't want to acknowledge. The Armorer and tribe leader set the trip up to try and push the two of you together so they didn't have to deal with the sexual tension so thick it could kill anyone that walked past. In the end the are fucking relieved it worked, though a little too well lmao)

Din Djarin x Reader

So Priest!Din thot....

After Sunday service one week you ask him innocently if he would like help cleaning up the chapel. Din smiles and says yes thank you. You wave your family to go ahead and wait for Din to finish speaking and saying goodbye to the parishioners. When the last woman leaves, little old Mrs. Taylor, he waves you inside. The two of you work in relative silence as you put away all the hymnals and bibles, the only noise being your movements and your own humming of one of the hymns from that day's service. By the time the two of you made it to the front of the chapel, you turn to eachother and pause looking at eachother before you both lean forward for a sweet kiss. When you pull back you smile at Din, before biting your lip and saying, "That was a beautiful service today, Father Djarin."

You could see Din's eyes dark the second you uttered his title. The look he gave you sent a warm shiver down to your lower belly. Then he reached forward and pulled you close whispering, "Only the best for my flock, my child." You couldn't suppress the small gasp that passed your lips as his hand moved to your hip backing you up until you felt your back hit the altar. You were shocked even more when Din suddenly lifted you and put you on the altar and immediately rolled you dress up your thighs whispering about how much he has been aching to feel you again. Din stops suddenly when he finds you missing your panties and he moans before grunting out, "A sinful temptress who just continues to seduce me with her wicked ways..." Then he's crashing his mouth on yours as he works to open his belt and pull out his aching cock. You can only meal against him he slowly slips into you. He stays fully seated inside of you for a minute, breathing harshly into you neck before pulling back to meet your eyes.

"You have no idea what you do to me, sweet girl. You.....you have consumed my every waking moment, and I cannot stop these sinful thoughts of you." Then he dives back down into the kiss as he starts pounding into you, muffins your moans and whines with his mouth. The two of you fuck passionately and full of forbidden love as you desecrate the altar of the most holy. Din praises and worships you and your body as if you were the diety he pledged his life too. When the two of you were thrown into the ultimate pleasure you met eachother's gaze and spoke the words you both wish you could say aloud.

Ezra (Prospect) x Reader

My Ezra THOT of the week....

Just a preface, Ezra has a prosthetic arm in this THOT...

You were a rather skilled prospector. You had almost a sixth sense for good dig spots and that made you raise through the ranks rather quickly. Even though you were valuable, you still were never able to hit a dig that allowed you to be payed enough to finally settle down. You were hoping this dig would be different. You'd been hired by a bigger company, and was going down to the planet with a crew of roughly 15. The way your employers had explained it, you all would be split into groups of three and whatever your group mined would be split into four, parts for the three of you, and one for the company. It was the best deal you had gotten, ever. The day you were to go to the moon you climbed aboard the shuttle and took a seat next to a man with a charming smile and a unique blonde patch. While waiting to leave the two of you became acquainted and learned his name was Ezra.

As it turned out, Ezra and you had been paired up in a group, along with a woman named Shelby. You also learned that Ezra was very much a talker and loved to please. Shelby got annoyed with his constant chatter, but you found yourself smiling softly and occasionally responding to his poetic words with sentences as graceful as you could make them. Loving the smile Ezra would shoot your way when you did. You also came to realize that Ezra would give nicknames to those that he latched onto and you learned quickly that he had dubbed you to be sunflower. At night the two of you would speak, sharing stories until Shelby would forcefully shut the lantern light out on you both telling you to shut the fuck up.

As grumpy as Shelby was, you were still hurt when one afternoon she disappeared for hours. Worried Ezra had gone to look for her only to come back with a grim look and a shake of the head. The two of you didn't speak the rest of the night, paranoid and not wanting to leave the other alone for a second. A few days later found you waking from sleep in a could sweat and with Ezra holding your face softly whispering reassuring words. That was the first night the two of you shared a cot, and after that it became a nightly occurrence. Eventually two of your three and a half month stay had passed and you found yourself looking up as Ezra walked into the shared tent after his shower in the communal space, he was shirtless and you watched as water dripped from his hair down his chest. He had immediately met your gaze and you blushed and turned back to your book quickly. You were shocked when you ft a finger trace you cheek, not having heard him approach. Then he spoke up and said, "Sunflower, I want you to promise me that if I cross a line, you will tell me. I in no way want to make you uncomfortable." You had only looked up at him confused. He responded by gently taking your book and setting it aside, before turning back to you and leaning in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, before he softly brushed his lips against your own. Whwn you didn't pull away, Ezra dived in and pushed the kiss further. Soon you found yourself sitting in Ezra’s lap, stipped of everything but your under clothes, and makeout passionately with the man who has haunted your thoughts since you heard his voice. You instinctively started grinding against Ezra as you started to feel a pressure in you belly, that resulted in him groaning and grabbing your waist before pulling back slightly and looking you in the eye. He traced your skin for a second, causing goosebumps to erupt everywhere before he whispered, "May I ask a favor, my bright sunflower," you only nodded in response before he rushed out quickly and not as poetic as you are sure he would have liked, "Sunflower, please, for the love of Kevva, climb over me and place those sweet lips above mine." You sat there confused for a second before it clicked and you shyly asked him, "You want me to sit on your face?" You say his eyes dilated as he nodded shakily and whispered out a singular, please. You could only nod and he gave you the prettiest smile as he flopped back onto the bed before just completely rippling you panties off of you. You could only whine as he pulled your hips up. Ezra made sure you were making eye contact with him when he picked a broad striped along you slit with a groan and several muttered words. Ezra repeated that a few times before he stopped at your clit one pass and sucked it into his mouth. You could only choke out his name roughly before he just started eating you out like there was no tomorrow. At one point he as you were getting closer he pulled back long enough to tell you not to hold back anything, to tell you to grind against his face. You only moaned in response before he pulled you down onto his mouth and dipped into you again. It didn't take you long to start gasping out his name, and when Ezra reached up and grabbed your breasts, pinching your nipples, you felt your eyes roll back as you came all over his face as he continued his ministrations dragging out your orgasm as long as you let him. When you finally came back to your body you found yourself laying on the bed and Ezra naked next to you already dozing, having cum from his own touches while he was tasting you.

#my thots #paz vizsla x reader #paz x reader #din djarin x reader #din x reader #priest au #priest!din #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #ezra x female reader

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weirdkpopgirl · 3 years

Text

A Day to Remember

Title: A Day to Remember

Genre: Fluff...pure fluff

Warnings: mentions of food and skinship

A/N: I know I’ve written a lot of angsty stuff here. But I felt like writing something extra fluffy today. So please enjoy ^-^

Word Count: 1487

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“Coming!” Y/n rushed to go answer her front door, after hearing the doorbell ring. Her mouth dropped in agape when she opened the door to see a cute boy with black hair and light brown highlights. The boy greeted her with a warming smile and open arms.

“Jungwon-ah? What are you doing here?” She asked as she went to hug him. The two teenagers squeezed each other tight, taking in each other’s scents.

“We were given one free day before our comeback,” Jungwon explained, pulling away to have a proper look at his girlfriend. “I wanted to see you.”

Y/n smiled but she couldn’t help but feel a bit wary. This past month, Jungwon had been so busy with preparations for his group’s comeback. Him, being the leader only added stress to his responsibilities. Y/n didn’t know why Jungwon was using his spare time to see her instead of his other friends or family.

She wanted to ask why but she held her tongue. She too had been busy herself with school and it left her missing Jungwon more than she’d like to admit. Even if she might regret it later, she decided to be selfish just this once.

So after quickly grabbing her purse and phone, she let Jungwon take her to wherever he planned to today. Their first stop was at a puppy cafe.

“Oh my gosh, they’re so cute!” Y/n beamed as she kneeled to pet this one fluffy white dog.

Jungwon smiled, satisfied with her reaction. Y/n was a reserved person and she didn’t express her emotions often. But she had moments like these where she couldn’t help but show some sort of excitement. Jungwon found that aspect of Y/n to be one of the many things that he found attractive.

When it came to ordering drinks and baked sweets, the couple bickered on who would pay. Y/n knew that Jungwon would never let her pay for everything, but she at least wanted to cover the drinks.

But Jungwon was persistent and he won the small disagreement by saying, “You paid the last time we hung out, Jagiya. Let me pay this time.” Y/n pouted, realizing that she had nothing to argue with.

After sharing food and laughs with the furry animals, Jungwon took Y/n to the mall to go shopping. There was nothing, in particular, either of them was looking to buy. The time there was mostly spent walking around and talking about what had been going on the past months. Jungwon told her about funny things his hyungs and Niki did while Y/n talked about all the tests and quizzes she’s had to take one week.

Before they left, Y/n did end up buying something for both of them. Couple outfits! It was something she often saw other couples do and she had secretly been wanting to try with Jungwon. Jungwon happily encouraged the idea and the two walked out of the mall wearing matching light blue over-sized hoodies with simple black pants and white sneakers.

“Do you think it’s too much?” Y/n whispered to him, self-consciously.

Jungwon squeezed her hand, “I think we look good. But as long as you like it, that’s all that matters.”

His sweet words left her feeling at ease. That was one of the things she admired about Jungwon, he was always so attentive and caring. Jungwon often surprised her when they’d be on a call and he’d bring up something he remembered she told him once.

By the time they left the mall, it was late into the afternoon. Jungwon asked Y/n if she wanted to go see if they could catch a movie, which she agreed to.

“What movie do you want to watch?” Y/n asked as they entered the theater, holding hands.

Jungwon glanced over to the list of movies that were supposed to be playing today. There were so many to choose from. He knew that Y/n wouldn’t want to watch a horror movie. Not because she was afraid, but she preferred watching something scary when they were alone at his dorm or her house. The two discussed what to watch as they waited in line, eventually settling on a musical film.

Once they bought the tickets, Jungwon got some popcorn to share with Y/n. He laughed when he saw how Y/n’s eyes lit up when she saw the young boy walking to her with a bucket of buttery goodness.

The movie was enjoyable to watch for both of them. It had everything, music, comedy, drama, sadness, and romance. Jungwon liked it but what kept him smiling was that he got to hold Y/n’s hand the entire time. The more he looked and thought about Y/n, the more he realized how strong his feelings for her had become.

Jungwon never put much thought into dating, Y/n didn't either. He wanted to focus on debuting, while she focused on getting into a good university. There was no room for distractions, was what Jungwon thought to himself at the time. But then he met Y/n and everything changed.

Y/n wasn’t a distraction at all. She was understanding and never expected him to text her every day or spoil her with gifts. She was perfectly content with listening to him talk about his day and giving words of comfort when he was feeling down. She was something that Jungwon never knew he needed and she didn’t need to say anything for him to know she felt the same way.

Jungwon reflected on all of this, as they walked back to Y/n’s house. It wasn’t exactly midnight but Jungwon knew he would have to head back soon. Then Y/n had school the next day too. Both were disheartened that the day was coming to an end so soon.

“Thank you for today,” She said when they arrived at her front gate. “You didn’t have to do all this for me, you know.”

Jungwon caressed her hand, “But I wanted to. You deserve so much more than this.”

“You know I’m not picky,” Y/n smiled weakly. “I was really happy today, all thanks to you.”

Jungwon didn’t say anything more but responded with a warm embrace. “Text me when your exams are over. I promise to buy you something good to eat after promotions are over.”

“Okay Eomma,” She teased. “Make sure that your members are healthy. But make sure you take care of yourself too.”

Jungwon chuckled, “And you’re the one calling me mom?”

The two exchanged a couple of laughs before finally parting ways. Y/n sighed sadly when she saw Jungwon’s shadow disappear from her sight. She turned to go inside her own house but was interrupted by the sound of brisk footsteps.

When she moved to look, Jungwon was rushing back towards her direction. Why was he coming back? Did he forget something?

Before she could say anything, Jungwon cupped her cheeks and pulled her in for a long, heartfelt kiss. Due to his sudden actions, Y/n was unable to process everything at first. But somehow her body quickly adjusted to the situation.

As if it came naturally, she closed her eyes and placed her hands on Jungwon’s shoulders. Giving in to his touch, she let Jungwon deepen the kiss and enjoyed the moment.

Despite how affectionate they could be with each other, Jungwon and Y/n didn’t kiss lip-to-lip very often. Which only made the kiss right now even more meaningful. Jungwon hoped that by this gentle but passionate kiss, he could convey all his feelings for Y/n.

“What was that for?” Y/n asked when they pulled away.

“Just because…” Jungwon spoke softly. His eyes were pouring into hers with a strong sense of sentiment in them.

“I love you.”

Her eyes widened, barely believing what she had just heard. Jungwon’s cheeks flushed pink and his gaze dropped to the concrete ground.

“It-it’s okay if you don’t-”

But before Jungwon could finish, Y/n unexpectedly tugged the collar of his shirt and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips.

When she pulled away, Jungwon saw the shy smile on her face. She herself, was slightly flustered by her unusual reactions. But she refused to let it bother her.

“Me too,” She practically whispered.

She felt a little lightheaded. Maybe it was from kissing so long or maybe it was because Jungwon just told her that he loved her. Maybe it was both.

“I love you, Yang Jungwon.”

A relieved smile stretched across Jungwon’s lips, revealing those dimples that Y/n loved so much. He hugged her for the umpteenth today and they gently pressed their foreheads against each other.

Today was most definitely a day to remember

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#enhypen #enhypenwriters #yang jungwon #pure fluff #enhypen fluff #kpop fic #jungwon #jungwon fanfic

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Being Fake Soulmates with Dr. Chilton (Part 6)

<- Part 5

Frederick Chilton x Reader | The Good Place crossover

Final chapter! Warning: The Good Place spoilers, and a timeline that makes perfect sense because Jeremy Bearimy, baby.

2,800 words

“No way. It’s too dangerous!”

“I thought you said we were in this together?” Chilton quirked a brow, eliciting a petulant grumble. You crossed your arms.

“Or maybe you think I’m expendable, so you’re willing to take risks with my life. Afterlife. Whatever.”

Frederick Chilton, who was not, as originally advertised, your soulmate, nonetheless clasped your hand with gentle tenderness. I would never do anything to hurt you is what a normal person would say in that moment, and perhaps his eyes said it, somewhere deep in their searching pools of green. But Dr. Chilton had a repressed way about him, tending toward overly clinical just stating the facts (or the sarcasm). Anything but genuine, vulnerable, sentimentality.

He guided you by your hand to sit down beside him on the baroque loveseat in one of his many living rooms, studies, and salons. After you settled yourself on the velvet cushion, he leaned his shoulder against yours in that quiet way he showed affection.

“After reviewing the town records,” he said, “I believe we may be the only two humans in the neighborhood. Some of the residents are far too dull—Chidi Anagonye, the moral philosophy professor who spent his life writing a single manuscript, Jianyu the silent monk—while others are too perfect—Glen, that one who is constantly volunteering, Tahani, the philanthropist. Real people have flaws, secrets, hobbies. I can only be certain of myself and you.”

“How’d you figure out I’m real?”

“I didn’t. I simply refuse to accept the alternative,” he said with a sad smile, and you began to think Dr. Chilton was sentimental after all.

***

Their voices were muffled even with your ear pressed to the door of Michael’s office—not that it mattered much what they were talking about. You were just waiting for the signal, and at that moment, it came. Their footsteps and voices grew louder as Frederick and Michael approached, and the door handle clicked.

“—which is why cannibalism loses more good-person points than defenestration but fewer than chewing loudly on a crowded bus.”

“Fascinating. I never thought about it that way,” said Chilton, looking genuinely disturbed.

You flattened yourself against the wall next to the door, thinking thin thoughts as the pair exited the office. A tall houseplant barely disguised your presence, and if Michael had any kind of peripheral vision, he would see you standing there plain as day.

But Dr. Chilton spoke animatedly, fixing him with a challenging laser-stare as he asked a probing follow-up question. Locked in Chilton’s eyes, Michael failed to notice the movement just behind his left shoulder as you slipped through the closing door before it could latch shut.

Safe.

Michael’s office was quiet and filled you with serenity in much the same way a teddy bear is filled with stuffing: forcefully and by no will of your own. Like the welcome room with its happy green plants and happy green words on the wall assuring you everything is fine, the office peeled your defenses away. Cream-colored walls yawned out around the perimeter, punctuated with bright windows, a portrait of Doug Forcett (a stoner from the 1970s who guessed, on a mushroom trip, how the afterlife really worked), and various artifacts of humanity enshrined like museum pieces, despite seeming perfectly mundane.

At the top of the room was a large mahogany desk.

Yesterday, Chilton watched Michael put away files in the desk that he wouldn’t let him look at. Chilton was certain they were the key to unraveling the mystery, so he suggested working together—he would distract Michael while you sneaked in to find the files. It was risky, but it might have been your only chance of discovering what was going on, and if there was a way to escape.

You began poking through the desk and found stacks of papers in an unreadable alphabet. The only thing you could read were lyrics to a genuinely terrible song Michael was writing titled “Love Train to the Cosmos.”

The last drawer wouldn’t budge.

Yanking the handle didn’t work. Banging on the side with your fist failed to unstick it. It was locked. Locked drawers were suspicious. The answers had to be in there.

You eyed a mountain of paperclips lovingly displayed on a pedestal labeled “Human Things.” Snatching two off the top, you unbent and re-bent the stiff metal wire, and inserted it into the lock. Faint clicks sounded as you turned and finessed the paperclip, feeling each pin in the tumbler slide into place. Then you gently turned it, and—pop. The drawer opened.

A single manila folder stamped TOP SECRET in threatening red letters rested inside, as if waiting to be found. You picked it up and opened it, and your breath caught. They were reports on “The Good Place.” The Good Place in quotation marks. Reports about you.

A pleasant bing sounded.

Janet materialized in front of the desk. For once, she was not wearing a cheery smile.

***

Frederick Chilton had always been a selfish man. Any opportunity that could advance his career and put him in the spotlight, he would take it no matter who it hurt. “Unorthodox therapy,” he called it in his private chats with Dr. Lecter. They bonded over their shared interest in unorthodox research before he learned Dr. Lecter was a cannibal. That would have been a clue to anybody else that it was time to change his ways, but Dr. Chilton spent the rest of his years just as selfish and petty—more so, even, as his disfiguring injuries gave him more reason for spite.

He could never accept himself as he was.

By the time he died, Chilton was an intolerable asshole who paid back the world’s cruelty with his chronic foul moods and acerbic sarcasm. He kept everyone at a distance.

And yet, here, in death, he found himself worrying over someone else.

The sun was shining in the ever-blue sky, dappled by lush green foliage before reaching the two men as they strolled the neighborhood below. Michael was built like a sapling with longer legs than he knew what to do with, making Chilton nearly jog to keep pace. He had a warm smile and an outgoing demeanor—always flattering Chilton’s ego and asking for his guidance. But something malignant hid behind those smiling eyes, and Chilton’s mind kept rushing back to you, hoping you were OK.

He hoped that you were safe. Not that the plan was going smoothly. That you were safe.

There was a difference, and Dr. Chilton noticed right away that his twitchy nervousness was not wrought of self-preservation. It was a new type of panic—worse than fear for himself, which he never thought possible considering the amount of terror he had experienced on his own behalf.

To distract himself, Chilton threw himself into the role of Michael’s assistant, focusing on his task of supposedly identifying psychological issues causing problems with the neighborhood.

“Our interviews should go in alphabetical order, under the pretense of a survey—a sort of afterlife census—to avoid suspicion. It should be feasible, with only three hundred residents—”

“We know,” Michael said coolly. His voice dropped from the usual friendly, flattering demeanor, slipping off like a mask.

“You know how you are going to handle the interviews? It is imperative the subjects do not suspect they are being studied.” Chilton swallowed, knowing full well that he was talking to the real Michael for the first time.

“Don’t play dumb.” Michael smiled an entirely different type of smile, twisted and clever with no warmth in it. “We’ve been watching you, Dr. Chilton. We knew you would figure it out eventually. It was only a matter of time before you saw through a psychiatric study.”

Chilton’s interest piqued at the same time his blood went cold. He wet his lips. “Is that what all this is, then?”

The pair came to a stone bridge that arched gracefully over a reflection pool. Michael stopped midway across, leaned one of his long, pointed elbows on the railing, and cocked his head at Chilton.

“You haven’t figured it all out yet? That’s disappointing. You humans really are so dense.” His tone was so mean that Chilton took an unconscious step back. Michael only laughed and told him there was no point in running away. “But I think you’ll want to hear what I have to offer,” he promised.

Most of what you had been told about the afterlife was true, Michael explained. There was a real good place, and there was a real bad place where bad people were tortured for all eternity. But the bad place had a problem: it was boring! Humans get used to physical pain after the first few centuries, no matter how creative the punishment.

“Once you’ve flattened a thousand penises, you’ve flattened them all. I’m trying to do something new here. Innovate!” said Michael with an energetic swoop of his hand. “Emotional torture can cause the same level of discomfort, but in a more sustainable and (more importantly) entertaining way. That’s what this neighborhood is for—to study you humans and find out what makes you miserable.”

And then he offered Dr. Chilton something that grabbed his attention. The opportunity to design bad place neighborhoods.

“You are asking me to help implement psychological torture?” Chilton turned over each word cautiously.

“Oh,” Michael scoffed, “Don’t tell me you’re concerned about the ethics? Doctor, I’ve read your file.”

Chilton winced. He had done truly amoral things in the name of discovery—things it made him sick to be reminded of. Strange, though. In the past, he would have been proud to be treated as a peer by a psychopath. Not ashamed.

“Think of it, the glory, the prestige. You would be designing the afterlife for billions of souls. You will be remembered throughout eternity as the man who reformed the bad place!”

“And my soulmate?”

Chilton blurted it without thinking. It sounded so childish and naive, and sure enough, Michael shook his head and had a long chuckle at his expense.

“There’s no such thing! I thought you knew,” Michael slapped his knee. “I made it up so you would torture each other! But once again, I underestimated the human libido. You people all think with your genitals, it’s—it’s gross. Humans are gross.” He made a face. “That’s why I need your help to design a better system. With your understanding of the human mind, we can make condemned souls miserable for thousands of years.”

Chilton couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for this plan, and Michael frowned.

“If it makes you feel any better, consider this the humane option. The alternative is going back to scooping eyeballs out with melon ballers and replacing them with live bees. What do you say, doctor? Join my team.” Michael extended a hand, and Chilton eyeballed it.

“Can my soulmate—”

“Not a soulmate.”

“—come with me?”

“This offer is only open to you.”

“So they will be tortured? Alone? For eternity? In a system I help design?”

“Nothing you can do will change that. They are going to be tortured—the only person you can save is yourself, if you decide to help me.”

Frederick’s brow knit together. He thought about refusing. He really did. Abandoning you seemed unthinkable, especially after your promise to each other to stick together. But he was a selfish creature, and choosing to be punished wouldn’t protect you. If he was lucky, by teaming up with Michael, he could design a more comfortable torture for you one day.

“Maybe this will help make up your mind,” Michael said. “Hannibal Lecter.”

“Lecter?”

“He’s here. In the bad place. So far, he has been especially resistant to traditional torture. I thought you might have a personal interest in taking a crack at him?”

***

On a floating, room-sized projection screen, Frederick Chilton shook Michael’s hand. Your head fell forward, shoulders slumping. The screen flicked off and dissipated into the office air.

“This is the 764th time he has failed,” said Janet, giving a sympathetic simulation of a sigh. “We were sure he was going to make the right decision this time.”

You shook your head. “Fame and glory? Revenge? He’ll never refuse those. Trust me—he died because of them and still never learned his lesson.”

“That is what we’re afraid of. Some people never pass their tests. Fun fact!” she perked up, “Hannibal Lecter’s test is working at a Burger King where he can only cook Impossible Whoppers, and his 19-year-old manager calls him pee-paw. He gets reset every time he eats a customer. His longest record is twelve hours.”

When Janet found you snooping in Michael’s desk, you expected to be dragged away, never to see Frederick again. Instead, she explained everything to you—the truth.

A long time ago, the bad place was exactly how Michael described it—a place where souls were sent to have their orifices filled with spiders for eternity. Then he decided to try something new. Originally, he paired you with Dr. Chilton hoping you would drive each other crazy. But no matter what happened, you kept falling in love. You kept supporting each other, and taking care of each other. The same happened with his other human test subjects—they kept improving and becoming better people than they were on Earth. Eventually, Michael changed, too.

He redesigned the bad place to be a test—a chance for human souls to earn their way into the good place. At the end of each test, you either pass and go to the good place, or your memories are erased and you start over again.

“So, what happens to me now?”

“You passed. You can go to the good place now, and spend the rest of eternity in paradise. The real one.”

“And Frederick? He’ll be alone?”

Janet nodded.

“Put me back in. Reset me, and make me his soulmate again.”

“Are you sure?” Janet asked.

“I’m not going without him.”

“He would leave you behind. You just saw that.”

“That wasn’t fair. Anyone would accept that deal. I would accept that deal!”

“No. You wouldn’t,” Janet said. “You passed your test a long time ago.”

For a while, a heavy silence fell between you as you processed this. Finally, you thought of the only question worth asking. “How many times have we had this conversation?”

“762.”

“Well then,” you said. “You know what I’m going to say.”

“I do. But you retain a vague sense of your memories from previous tests. At a subconscious level, you might realize you’re tired of this.”

You smiled. A big, genuine one that balled your cheeks and creased the corners of your eyes. “That’s not how I feel at all. I think I love him more every time.”

Janet nodded, but gave one last warning before erasing your memories again. “If he never passes, you could be stuck here forever.”

“Stuck falling in love with that insecure jerk over and over again for thousands of years? Sounds like heaven to me.”

“I thought you might say that.”

***

The first day, you really wanted to punch his pretentious snobby face for thinking he was so much better than you.

The first time you laid eyes on Dr. Frederick Chilton, he was waiting behind a mahogany desk with an ancient hardcover book in his hands. Not reading it—waiting, posed deliberately to be discovered that way, and give the impression of intellectualism.

“This is your soulmate,” said Michael, introducing you.

Chilton took a step back after shaking your hand and looked you up and down critically, as if he were appraising livestock. And right away, you knew there had been a terrible mistake. Who the fork did he think he—

Fork. Fork! Why couldn’t you say fork?!

***

Bright light streamed in through the open bedroom window. The weather was always perfect here, except when some glitch made it rain caviar and jelly beans. Or that time Frederick had a vivid nightmare, and organs began falling from the sky. Every day, something horrible seemed to go wrong in the good place. Things that challenged you and pushed your soulmate to his limits.

But most mornings were like this. Quiet. A time just for the two of you.

Your fingers lightly stroked his chest, delving into the soft hairs that rose and fell with his steady breathing. You pressed a soft kiss to his skin, then another, tracing a line of them lower, over a jagged, raised line down his abdomen. His scars let you know he was waking up. This was the good place—he didn’t have to let them show. Usually, he chose to appear as a younger version of himself, before all the indelible trauma. But on peaceful mornings like this, he would let them show just so you could soothe them. He never thought he would be that comfortable with anyone. That he could trust anyone so much.

Every day, you both knew you could overcome anything, so long as you were together.

#Frederick Chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #The Good Place crossover #my writing

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logically-asexual · 3 years

Text

Hold me like you mean it

summary:

Logan’s feelings for Virgil and the fact that now Virgil barely notices him are stopping him from getting any work done. Janus offers a way for Logan to cope, by disguising himself into Anxiety. but is this really what Logan needs? and what’s in it for Janus, anyway?

Alternatively, an angsty story about rejection, denial, and manipulation.

warnings: (for the whole fic) unrequited love, rejection, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, gaslighting, dependency, dubious consent and non consent for kissing, sad ending, depression (vaguely described), angst in general, nightmares, self harm. let me know what else i should add.

taglist: @gummibearbullet @chara-07 @the-sympathetic-villain

Read on AO3

Chapter 5

words: 1147

When Logan arrived at his room a sense of relief washed over him. But there was another feeling, one he couldn’t quite name. The sort of sensation one feels after finishing a long movie and getting out of the cinema into the intense luminosity and fresh air of the street. It was nice, he felt revitalized and animated to continue with his activities. He would only work one more hour before beginning his routine to get ready for bed, but that hour turned out to be the most efficient one he had had in months. Not a single emotion got in the way of his concentration, feeling nothing but motivation continue. Later, he fell asleep peacefully as soon as his head was laid on the pillow.

The following morning, Logan spotted the notebook he had intended to take to Janus’ room on his bookshelf. He thought he recalled grabbing it, but apparently he hadn’t. Either way, he took it out and opened it to begin writing. He titled the page “Observations about Deceit’s room”. First, he wrote the physical aspects of it, including the dark lighting (which Janus appeared to have control over), the reflective floor, and the color palette of the furniture. However, once he moved on to the possible psychological effects, he found himself at a loss. He had noticed a number of behaviors that he wouldn’t normally exhibit, but he couldn’t tell apart which might have been caused by the room and which merely by the situation that occurred there. He settled on one sentence: “It was unexpectedly easy to get lost in the illusion, and to blur the boundaries between reality and fiction.”

Over the next weeks, Logan was able to continue his work with productivity. His projects weren’t hard, since Thomas didn’t require a lot from him lately, but they certainly had taken too long when he couldn’t focus on them. Now that he visited Janus, he was able to free his mind of unnecessary distractions for considerable periods. He began visiting him every few days, or whenever he felt too distracted to get work done.

He adapted his plan, no longer attempting to become friends with Virgil. Now the only purpose was to increase the effectiveness of his communication with the other three Sides through cordial behaviour. Eventually, he noticed that he reached a limit in the results of his plan. The curve of improvement had risen and then turned into an almost flat, horizontal line. This means he had already improved his relationship with the others as much as he could, and there wasn’t a need to continue seeking interaction. More effort wouldn’t bring better results, so he only needed to maintain the current level, which was just enough for the group to acknowledge his presence and listen to his input without dismissing it immediately.

He was grateful that he didn’t have to be as reserved with Janus as he was with the rest. Despite the ridiculousness of the secret that he had shared with him, Janus had been sympathetic, and was the only one Logan deemed as trustworthy, ironically. He had yet to find out if Janus had a motive behind his generosity, but it was rational that he didn’t, since this brought positive effects for Thomas, which is what they all wanted.

Another advantage he found was that he no longer felt troubled around the real Virgil. Janus’ characterization of him had gradually diverged from his current personality, adapting to what Logan prefered, in addition to some attributes Janus himself had chosen. This Virgil was more liberal with his sarcastic comments, happy to complain about the other Sides with Logan, and more assertive. He reminded Logan of when Anxiety had just made himself known, just having left the Dark Sides, and wasn’t so invested in adhering to Patton and Roman’s unrealistic ideals. It was refreshing.

Nonetheless, Logan still struggled occasionally when Virgil made a humorous comment or spoke with a soothingly low voice in their meetings with Thomas, it brought back to Logan’s attention the fact that he wouldn’t simply get over his feelings, and he would continue to depend on Janus until he found a better solution.

Not that Logan was looking for an alternative. This arrangement worked far better than anything he could have planned himself. The only possible concern was that the revitalizing sensation he got after leaving Deceit’s room seemed to decrease in intensity with every visit. He normally is relieved when getting out of another Side’s room. The emotions they make him feel are always overwhelming, and he will always choose reality over any alternative. And yet, he couldn’t shake away the slight disappointment of having to continue his responsibilities after an encounter with Virgil. He had noted this down as another probable effect of the room.

That was the third note in his page of observations, following one about a faulty memory. He found that both with Janus and outside he had become more forgetful, and seemed to confuse his thoughts with actual recollections. It started with leaving his notebook behind and forgetting about the alarm he had set on his watch the first day. Then, he forgot to set his alarm several times, and his stay extended more than it should have.

He also once thought he told Janus that he didn’t want to be kissed, but the other insisted that wasn’t true, and that he had explicitly asked Janus to maintain constant physical contact. He had been confused at first, but he was no longer opposed to that, since he now found the touch pleasant. Besides, Janus had been considerate and kept the kissing mild, allowing Logan to not open his mouth further than slightly parting his lips.

Currently, Logan breathed in the smell of the tea he held in front of him, and leaned back against Virgil’s chest. Today had been particularly stressful. Janus had had to quiet him a couple times during his interactions with the others, because otherwise he would have hurt Thomas’ pride and erased the progress they all had made with Roman’s insecurities. But as he did nearly every visit, Virgil reminded him of his worth, and his presence calmed Logan down.

“I love you, darling.” was whispered into his ear.

He felt a shiver run down his spine. He turned his head around to see Virgil, who answered with a serene half-smile. Logan mirrored his expression, and nervously glanced away.

“I love you, too.” He murmured, and turned back around, settling into the other’s arms and laying his head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of the teacup in his hands and of Virgil’s embrace.

Everything was fine. Logan met Virgil daily now, for two and a half hours. Janus knew exactly how to help him, even better than Logan himself. He had never been more satisfied with his life.

It was all fine.

notes:

♫♪ four tequilas down, who gives a shit if we’re messing around, they’ll never know. they’ll never know. ♫♪

reminder! this is Logan’s POV, so he isn’t always right about everything, we just know what he thinks c:

#logan sanders #janus sanders #loceit #analogical #manipulation #unhealthy relationships #angst #gaslighting #unrequited analogical

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years

Note

pippin👏 with👏a👏tall👏reader👏 (could you make it veryyyy fluffy?) ((also the reader is human oop))

Big Heart

Fluff and Humor (also a touch of Angst)

----

You met the little hobbit, Pippin, on the journey to destroy the One Ring.

It was by chance that you managed to run into them during their time in Rohan, but completely by design that you ended up their escort to Gondor.

You were one of the best riders and horse tamers in Rohan, so it was only natural that you'd be sent as their guide since the mission was so vital.

And, as time went on, you began to develop feelings for said hobbit.

His mischievousness and humor drew you in easily, and you've never met anyone who could make you laugh as much as him. It was only natural that his winning personality, and ridiculous decisions, would capture your heart eventually.

It's funny, because he wasn't even trying. He's just a natural comedian I suppose (as is his cousin, Merry, who you're also quite fond of).

After all was said and done and the battle for Middle Earth ended, you opted to join the hobbits on their whttps://archiveofourown.org/works/17413022/chapters/70134579/edit#ay back to The Shire and keep them all safe and healthy during their travels even though you and Pippin haven't... discussed anything as of yet.

And, the day before you were scheduled to leave and head back for Rohan, Merry and Pippin approached you sheepishly and asked if you would like to stick around a bit longer.

Now you agreed of course, why wouldn't you? There's nothing left for you back in Rohan, there never really was in the first place other than your title and reputation as a good rider.

Staying in The Shire is nice and all, but there are some things about it that really, really bother you. The scale of everything being one of those things.

The ceiling are low, and the hobbits are even lower than that. You've bumped your head on Pippins high ceilings many times, always forgetting to duck down low since your height was never an issue (much less a factor ) in Rohan.

You'll probably get used to it eventually, but, are you even planning on staying long enough to get used to it? It's not like you've moved there or anything, they just asked you to stay longer.

You and Pippin really need to have a talk.

When this realization hits you, you decide to idly wait in his dinning room while he's out and about.

Now you may be wondering, what on earth does Pippin have to do during the day?

Getting into trouble with Merry, of course!

Sometimes they steal, sometimes they do odd jobs for the other hobbits in The Shire, but, most of the time, they just hang around and smoke outside in the lovely weather.

You, on the other hand, chose to stay inside and enjoy some time to yourself up until these thoughts began to cloud your thoughts.

It isn't until the sun begins to set and the firebugs begin to roam that Pippin comes home, and he returns to a pot of tea and some freshly, baked scones.

It's hard as shit to cook in this tiny little cramped kitchen, but you made it work and the end product was fluffy, flaky, and delicious (so maybe they're more like biscuits).

As soon as the blond-haired hobbit walks in you greet him from the other room, settling on one of the too small chairs with your knees that hit the edge of the table.

He walks into the room you're in and greets you cheerily, zeroing in on the food like someone who has been starving for the last week. It was expected, though, because he's always hungry (even for someone as small as himself).

"Be sure to spare some, Pippin." You warn with a joking edge to your voice, eyeing him with a falsely stern stare, "You need to leave some for me."

Pippin only smiles at you with those shiny white pearls of his and snatches two of the breads from the plate they rest on, "Does one sound fair? It sounds fair to me."

You stare at him blankly and don't offer any sort of quirk our lips or even an eye-crinkle, making it seem like you're wholly unamused by his jokes.

His smile slowly fades when you take on this sudden no nonsense attitude, and you find that you can't keep up the 'unhappy' facade for too long.

Almost in unison do the both of you burst out with laughter, because, clearly, neither of you were actually taking this situation seriously.

You could never joke around like this or enjoy yourself in the likes of Rohan, you had no one to share such moments with in the first place, but it's quite shocking to realize just how much you needed this.

How much longer could your mind have survived such a monotone and honor obsessed environment? This is the exact change of pace that you needed if you wanted to live through your 20's and not die of boredom. What's so fun or great about being a good horse rider anyways? Well, actually, to be fair it was fun at one point, but then it became your job and everyone had such high expectations that it kind of just sucked the fun out of the one thing that didn't leave you stultified to no end.

Anyways, the both of you cease your laughing eventually and you proceed to swipe and snack on one of those little treats you made, noticing the way that the both of you fall into a mostly comfortable silence.

Your gaze drifts back over to the hobbit sitting in the hair adjacent to yours and you find that he's already looking at you with an expectant edge to his gaze.

Everyone treats him like an idiot, but he's not so much stupid as he is unwise and foolish. He could sense there was some sort of unease rolling off of your shoulders and making the atmosphere slightly tense, definitely not something an idiot could notice so easily.

"You've got something to tell me. Or is it something you want to ask?" He's all business now.

"Yes, I do." You confirm with a shallow nod, gaze flickering over his face, "Something has been troubling me as of recent."

His blond curls bounce a bit when he nods his ascent to continue, and the movement draws your eyes as your brain begins to wander in search of a good way to approach the subject bothering you.

"Truthfully, Pippin, I haven't a clue what I am doing here anymore. You asked me to come to The Shire and I did, and then you asked me to stay, and I did that as well, but we are reaching a point where motivations and reasonings are becoming sparse. I know what my intentions are, and though I have not made them quite clear, which is what we need to talk about. What are we doing, Pippin?"

When you finish speaking your piece and look back at him again, you see that his head is hanging slightly and he refuses to look at you almost.

His eyes are sad and it makes your heart pang painfully in your chest.

"I... I am not so sure myself. I asked you to stay because I... um, Merry and I, don't wish to see you go." He puts down the hardly eaten 'scone' and scoots his chair closer to yours, looking up at you with a slight frown, "If I'm being honest, I can hardly imagine what it would be like if you were to leave, now."

"Yes, I know that much. But what am I doing here? I have little purpose at the time being, all I do is sit here or outside all day and do nothing . I wait around for you to get back because you and Merry never invite me to your schemes, and you do not invite me because I stick out. Literally."

You surprise even yourself with this 'outburst' because you thought your insecurities were only Pippin-deep. As much fun as you have with Pippin, you still feel like an outsider. Who do you talk to really besides Pippin, Merry, and sometimes Sam.

He looks even more sad than before, and you realize it probably sounds like you're thinking of leaving.

"I suppose feeling purposeless just bothers me-"

"I-I don't want you to go." He starts, surprising you slightly since he never really interrupts anyone. "You never treat me like a fool, and you always listen to what I have to say even when I don't make sense. Like, now I suppose. But it is more than that, too. T-The way I am and I feel when you are around is unlike anything I've known before, and, well, I don't wish to lose that or you."

You sit and listen quietly while he pours his little hobbity heart out and even wait some more after that, because this is exactly what you've been wanting in terms of communication.

"It's strange, you know I'm not usually like this, but even thinking about you leaving at this point is painful. Would I be too hasty in saying that I...," he trails off, seemingly contemplating what he needs to say next, "I may have fallen for you?"

There it is, that's exactly what you were waiting, and hoping, for.

"No, it wouldn't be. I've confessed as much myself already; in fact, I'd say you were quite late in saying it." You can't help but to tease him, and it appears to work out well for you because his face flushes and a sheepish expression softens his determined countenance. "Well, anyway. That is all well and good, but I must also say that it doesn't change my lack of excitement. And since you are the one keeping me here, it is your responsibility to mend this fact."

His forehead creases as he thinks it over and his mouth twists with thought, then his eyes light up and he smiles brightly. "Well, Merry and I could get you into all sorts of trouble, if you ask us to. We don't leave you out because you're too tall, we do it because you do not seem to be the scheming type.”

Well, that’s fair. And also unexpected. The whole ‘height thing’ was your primary suspect, but it seems like you’ll have to let it go.

“You don’t know that for sure. I can scheme like no other if I choose to. I just… do not normally choose to, is all. Take me with you, I demand it.”

The lightheartedness returns, and it successfully brings up the mood as well.

You reach your hand across the table and place it over his carefully, offering a fond and warm smile to him which he returns in kind. What a strange thing, being comforted by someone half your size with double the personality that you possess.

“Alright, Merry will be excited to hear that.”

“He’d better be.”

"But...," he trails off and you fall silent to show him he has your full attention, "I wouldn't be truthful if I were to say that I haven't had my own troubles."

You nod your head once and allow your hand to fall back to your lap.

"I think you are beautiful. One of the loveliest people I have ever seen, meanwhile I... am a short, foolish hobbit that few people take seriously. Surely you could have, and do, more than what I offer. A hobbit hole with... low ceilings that your forehead has met many times and clutter in almost every corner."

You're shocked that such a thing could bother someone as uncaring as Pippin - well, uncaring in a sense that he doesn't care for others opinions on himself - and it pulls at your heart strings.

"Pippin, if I had any care for something as trivial as height then I would be a hypocrite. If you're too short then I must be much too tall. And if your house is a mess than Rohan must be incomprehensibly disastrous." All of these things are true in your eyes, and you hope to help him see through the same lens as you. "Those things matter to me not, I wish I had made you understand that sooner."

He smiles at you and you smile back, and in this moment you feel at peace. A couple of shared words won't immediately extinguish the insecurities and issues that have come to surface over time, but they make it easier to bear.

"Besides, you may not be a big person, but that heart of yours is one of the biggest I've ever had the pleasure of benefitting from."

He blushes again, and it does things to your heart.

You never thought you'd fall in love with someone so short and mischievous, but here you are.

It's peculiar.

"Well, I suppose we should seek out Merry. I'm ready to get into some trouble."

"That makes two of us."

#pippin took #pippin took x reader #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction #reader insert #reade #Peregrin Took #LOTR fandom

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charming-charlie · 4 years

Text

Like Father, Unlike Son

Title // Like Father, Unlike Son

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Mentions of absentee parents. Mentions of sex. Maybe some other little triggers, especially toward our man ☹

Summary // Buck’s parents are in town. Are you sure you want to meet them?

Word Count // 2.7k

Prompt // Hey! Hope you're doing good! I don't know if you ccurrently do requests or not or if this is where to ask for them but I have one in case you do take them. Evan Buckley x reader where his parents come to town and they are really passive agressive towards him, complaining about his work and that he's "not as nice of a boy as he used to be" but he doesn't tell them to stop. Eventually they remark on his birthmark, hitting an old insecurity and reader comforts him? Thank you for your time! <33

Author’s Note // Okay listen writing this broke my heart. Someone fix it by sending me cute little Buck gifs <3

“What are you doing?” you asked your boyfriend, firefighter Evan Buckley, as he pranced around his loft apartment. Armed with a duster in one hand and a broom in the other, you would’ve made a bet with Maddie that he was dressing as Cinderella for Halloween. It was a weird sight to see because he was cleaning. The man was actually cleaning and you could not get over it.

You took your phone out and secretly snapped a few photos of Buck. He was dusting the top of the fridge and it just occurred to you… is that an area people are supposed to clean?

This was getting more and more strange.

You sent the photo to Maddie, who instantly replied, ‘all he is missing is an apron!’ with a few laughing-crying emojis. You smiled at her response, letting your brain picture the sight of Buck prancing around in an apron, holding various cleaning tools, like some 1950s housewife. You would’ve hung onto that ridiculous thought if Buck didn’t decide to speak up just then.

“I told you. My parents are coming. This place needs to be spotless,” Buck started dusting the undersides of the kitchen cabinets and you continued watching him. Your face was scrunched up as you followed his hand movements. Did Buck ever clean like this before?

For as long as you’ve known him, he never really mentioned his parents and that was not something you wanted to ask about unless he brought it up. Maddie mentioned a few things to you, in order to prepare you for the day, but it wasn’t much. Both Buckley parents were absent in their children’s’ lives, forcing Maddie and Buck to rely on each other while growing up. This would be the first time you’ve met them, and the first time Buck has seen them in who knows how long. This was a big deal. You thought you should be the one who is nervous. This would be the first time meeting the boyfriend’s parents and you needed to make a good impression. But Buck… he was acting like the world was going to end if the spout of the kitchen sink wasn’t properly polished. He was nervous enough for the both of you. Your job, which you were trying to settle into without overthinking, was to be calm and level-headed enough for the both of you.

That still didn’t stop the butterflies from moving full speed in your stomach.

When Buck started to pull out all the Tupperware containers and begin rearranging them in a new, organized, and super unnecessary way, you decided to intervene. Standing up, you made your way to your boyfriend and you slipped your arms around him, essentially hugging him from behind. Your head rested between his shoulder blades as you just held him in a comforting way.

Buck froze for a second and you could feel how tense and stiff he was. However, he instantly relaxed in your arms, like a weight had been lifted and you could sense a grin that splashed onto his face. He turned around in your arms, facing you while you hugged him at the waist.

He was taller than you by a good foot. Even if you stood on your tippy toes, you would not reach his lips, and damn did you want to right now. It was a good thing he knew you well enough to read your mind because he was thinking the same thing. He leaned down, much to your happiness, and placed the sweetest, softest kiss upon your lips. It was perfect, the way he dangled himself in front of you, leaving you wanting more and knowing you couldn’t reach him. He teased you in a way that made you both frustrated and excited.

“I know I’m acting crazy. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you,” Buck said as he captured your lips with his one more time.

The second kiss caught you by surprised, but you welcomed it. You leaned into him and your fingers instantly tightened and gripped his white shirt. You tried to let go, knowing his pressed white shirt and black blazer were for show and he wanted to make a good impression on his parents, but if you didn’t hold onto him, you were going to melt into a puddle of goo.

Imagine Buck trying to clean that up.

You grinned into the kiss as the new image that popped into your head, but it was short-lived. There was a knock on the door, five concise raps in a row. Buck instantly pulled away, and you caught a small, tiny look of fear in his eyes. He masked it by putting on a brave face but you knew him better than that.

“Go get the door, I’ll clean this up,” you told him with a gentle smile. You firmly nudged him toward the door and Buck reluctantly went to open it. You hurriedly put all the Tupperware containers back in their original cabinet, with organization going out the window. The door opened just as you shut the cabinet door, and you turned around on your heels and leaned against the counter, trying to act calm and casual.

You could hear the greetings and see the hugs before you saw the people. Buck’s parents appeared into view, smiling at their son, who you would’ve guessed they haven’t seen in such a long, long time.

First, you saw a woman. Her hair was tightly pulled back into an updo and she dressed in a business suit, paralleling her son in a semi-formal way. Following her was an older gentleman, dressed nearly identical as Buck. Apparently, looking proper was part of the Buckley charm. You must have missed that memo, since you were wearing jeans and a nice shirt, more casual than the Buckley family.

“You must be the one my son is so smitten with,” the woman replied with a smile. She made her way across the living area and into the kitchen, pulling you into a weird and awkward one-armed hug.

“I didn’t know firefighters could afford places like this,” the older gentleman said as he looked around.

You looked at Buck, who’s smile seemed to twitch with slight offensiveness. You knew he was proud of his job and you remember telling him that he loved his job more than you. Naturally, Buck denied that but played along and said his job kept him satisfied in ways that you couldn’t. You took it as a challenge and the two of you had mind-blowingly incredible sex that night. However, you were now cursing at your brain to abandon this train of thought at the station. You didn’t need to think about your sexual life with Buck while his parents were right there.

“I’m doing well for myself,” Buck said with a proud smile.

You nodded in agreement. Buck was doing good. He had a semi-stable job, he was healthy (especially after those blood clots in his leg that gave everybody a scare), and he was happy. Life was pretty good for him, and you could see how he was taking things all in stride.

“I thought you would have made something of yourself by now, Evan.” His mother spoke up. She was standing right next to you and it took every ounce of your strength to pull yourself together and not flash her a ‘what the hell did you just say????’ look. Instead, you kept your eyes on Buck, showing an obvious emotion of confusion.

Buck was certainly caught off guard by his mother’s words and seemed to be rendered speechless when his father chimed in with agreements.

“Firefighting is not a career, you know. I thought we raised you better than that,” his father said so casually, like he was making normal conversation and not offending his son by his choice of employment.

You felt a sense of dread swirling inside. You were longing to meet Buck’s parents and now you could not wait for them to leave.

“He does a very good job as a first responder. He saved countless people. Maddie also helps. It’s pretty great seeing the two Buck siblings take on the world together,” you said, trying not to cringe at how pathetic you sounded. Buck wasn’t speaking up, which meant that you had to take the reins and defend him. He deserves to be treated better than that.

“And to go so long without a phone call, or a letter, or even an email!” Buck’s dad was rambling as he walked around the apartment, staring at how immaculate Buck tried to make it, “would it have killed you to let us know what you’ve been up to? Seems like you just dropped off the face of the earth!”

If that wasn’t disgusting enough, the laugh that Buck’s dad gave shortly after sent your blood boiling. Was he finding this funny, calling his son out like this?

“You used to be such a nice boy,” Buck’s mother said as she approached her son, “but now it just feels like you and your sister enjoy ignoring us.”

How Buck was still standing was impressive to you. If it were you, some deep-rooted anger would have shot out right now and slapped his parents across the face. Buck told you bits and pieces about his parents. They were never there growing up. Their careers were more important than their children, leaving Buck and Maddie to sort of raise each other and look out for one another. It was not an ideal situation, and it broke your heart when Buck told you. He was visibly upset when it came to sharing details about his parents and you didn’t ask further questions.

But when Buck received a phone call from his mom, saying that both mom and dad will be in Los Angeles for a conference, you saw how excited he was. Hell, he was waltzing around the apartment, cleaning and tidying things up all week, after his mom mentioned that she would stop by for a visit with his dad. What was it all for? To be continuously kicked while he was already down?

“And this thing,” Buck’s mother said as her face scrunched in disgust, “you should get this removed. You would look much more handsome.” Her hand brushed against the birthmark on Buck’s face, and Buck instantly pulled back at the touch.

If you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed the part where Buck’s father actually nodded in agreement without having said anything. Your hands were shaking, and you stuffed them into the back pockets of your jeans, trying to keep your nerves in check. These people were Buck’s parents? This is how parents act toward their children?

Buck’s jaw clenched as he inhaled deeply, sending the worst disguised smile in his mother’s direction. “I wonder what’s keeping the food. I’m gonna check, be right back.”

He left the apartment, and you immediately felt like you were swimming in awkwardness. With Buck gone, they might pick on you next, and you were not going to let that happen. Racking your brain for an excuse, you settled with a simple one.

“Shoot, he forgot to grab the money to pay for lunch. I’ll be right back,” you flashed a friendly yet passive-aggressive smile in their direction and took off after your man, who was outside in the fresh air and taking deep breaths with his eyes closed, like he needed to practice meditation in order to calm down.

“Hey,” you said, grabbing him by the arm gingerly. He pulled back quickly, and his eyes popped open, but once he saw it was just you, he relaxed. “Sorry.”

He shook his head at your little apology. “Don’t be. Are you glad to have met them now?”

There was anger laced in his voice and, while you knew it wasn’t directed at you, it still stung a bit to be talked to like that. He could see it on your face and his features melted into pure apology as he reached for your hand. You let him take it, and he slowly tangled his fingers through your own. You let silence wash over the two of you, because that was what was needed right now. Sitting through lunch with those two people was going to be hell, and you wanted no part of it, but you needed to be there for him.

“You know,” you said, leaning into him a little. You couldn’t help it; he was like a magnet that always pulled you in. “You don’t need them. You have a loving, supportive family at the firehouse. Bobby and Athena can be your new parents. They already act the part.”

Buck let out a soft, sweet laugh. The fact that he found your little quip to be entertaining was music to your ears. “You don’t regret dating me, do you?”

You stared at him, unsure if he was being sarcastic or not. The look on his face told you everything you needed to know. He was really asking. Apparently, his parents verbally beating him up made him question a lot of things. You frowned, thinking at how just a fifteen-minute conversation with Buck’s mom and dad could change almost everything about him, you, and your relationship.

“Of course not,” you responded evenly, without even having to think about it, “I love you for you. You can sometimes be dumb, you know this, but you have a true heart of gold. And honestly, Buck, you are hot as hell.”

He laughed again, this time deeper and genuine. He let go of your hand and pulled you into a sweet hug, holding you tightly against his chiseled physique. “I needed that, thank you.”

You pulled away from him just enough to look at his handsome face. “I mean it. You are perfect. Your parents haven’t seen you in years, they haven’t seen how much you’ve changed. I see you every day. I’ve seen the progression. I’ve seen the pain you went through to be who you are today, and I love you so much for it. Let’s just get through this lunch and send your parents on their way, and you never have to think about them again.”

It wasn’t the greatest speech, but it comforted him. His smile never wavered as he looked at you, soaking in the words as they left your mouth. He nodded in response, feeling a newfound sense of bravery seeping inside. “I’ll do it if you are by my side.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” you said, knowing exactly how cheesy that sounded. But you didn’t care.

Buck leaned in, claiming your lips against his own in a welcomed surprise. You went back to leaning on him, his arms snaking themselves around you as he kissed you. Your heart was beating erratically as adrenaline pumped through. Your head was slowly filling up with fog and you were losing all sense of direction. If he wasn’t holding you like he was now, you would have no way of knowing which direction was up. Everything was blurry and out of focus, and it was a state of euphoria that you loved being in.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the Buckley residence? I have eighty dollars’ worth of Chinese food here,” someone’s voice squeaked into your thoughts, taking root much to your annoyance.

You pulled away from Buck’s lips, looking surprised. “Eighty dollars’ worth of food?” you couldn’t help but ask in shock.

“Okay listen, I was planning ahead,” Buck retorted with a smile. He shrugged like he did nothing wrong, like he was not guilty of spending so much money on a Chinese feast.

“Planning for what?’

“You and I aren’t going to leave the apartment for a couple days. The food is to help us replenish our strength.” He winked at you. Since when did he start winking at you?

“Are we working out or something?”

“Yeah, in bed.”

You slapped his arm with a gasp as he laughed and went to the deliver driver to collect the food. God, he was so good to you, and you had to smile at how happy he made you. The two of you could do this. You could both get through one afternoon with the Buckley’s because afterwards, it would be just the two of you again. No worries, no stress, no fear. You wanted that more than anything.

Despite a rocky start, you had a newer outlook on his parents. After all of this, there was one thing you knew for certain. Evan Buckley was not like his parents and you have never been prouder of him.

#Buck #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #evan buckley x you #9-1-1 #911 #oliver stark #writing request

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