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im-poe-dameron · 2 years ago

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ASTERISM

➛ 02. REBELLION'S HOPE

a/n: it's been awhile since chapter one, but seeing the andor episodes made me really inspired. i also just take forever to write anything. i am very excited about this chapter in particular, because i've yanked an old star wars oc out of an old fic and put him in here. the chapter isn't fully edited, but i tried my best. enjoy! (also how fucking good was the start of andor?!)

there are some minor andor spoilers in here!!

summary: dying by way of dire cat isn't how you thought you'd go, but life has a funny way of turning things on its head.

word count: 5.1k+

pairing: cassian andor x fem!reader

warnings: not explicit, cussing, angst, talk of death, the makings of a crush, tension.

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Death by Dire-cat. Not the most phenomenal way to go out, but then again was there any death that could be labeled as just that? You had hoped that you would at least survive a few more years on this planet before something took you out. But alas you were stuck dying here—never able to escape. The relief in this entire predicament was knowing you wouldn’t be dying alone. That had always been your absolute fear.

Facing death without anyone beside you.

Even though you knew it was impossible to not go it alone, there was something hollow in the realization that going by yourself truly meant the end. You supposed it was only fitting for a situation like this. For half your life you had been on your own, left to fend for yourself as you waited for a family that would never return back to you. Only now—you were standing beside a Rebellion pilot and watching as a Dire-cat stalked towards you. The image nearly brought a sickening smile to your face. How poetic that this was going to be your ending.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you whispered to him, unable to tear away from the scene in front of you. “I’ve never wanted to die alone.”

His head turned, regarding you with a look you couldn’t see. If you had the gall, you would have shifted to face him. You would have seen that the words you just uttered unknowingly, held more of a meaning than you expected for the both of you. Cassian Andor, respected Rebellion Captain who held no fear of death, no fear of when the end might come.

Or so he liked to believe.

“How do you know we’ll die?” he asked, sparing a glance at the animal who stopped a few feet away from you.

“It seems fitting. The death of a person who has dreamed of nothing but freedom. Now dies because of it.”

You weren’t sure where any of these innermost thoughts were coming from, and you did nothing to stop them. Beneath the layers of everything you tried to keep protected, you realized that this was how you felt all along. Not so much fear of death or abandonment. No, it was the fear of never having lived at all that set your heart skyrocketing into a sickeningly fast rate. What was life to someone who never had a taste of what the word actually meant?

“We’ll get out of here,” he replied, the blaster still clutched tightly in his palm.

“You know I never believed it existed.” His befuddled expression was enough for you to continue. “People say that the hope of a Rebellion can be seen in a single person. I never actually thought it could be possible. Thanks for proving me wrong.”

He gaped at you, eyes wide with disbelief. Cassian was never one to think about that and yet now he found himself realizing that you were more right than he’d ever been. Hope was stored not only in the symbol of the Rebellion, but in every person who decided to lay their lives down for the cause. To fight for something far greater than them and finally see a galaxy made free. It’s the choice he made long before he was even old enough to understand it.

It would have been a choice you made as well.

The Dire-cat sprinted forward, leaping into the air and taking you with it as you raised the blade to slash into its underbelly. The shout from Cassian told you that he was firing the blaster, but the tough exterior of the animal’s skin made for a very good barrier. You wanted to fight back, to scream in horror, and yet all you could do was lie there beneath it, watching as the animal lowered its head towards you.

A cold nose pressed against your cheek followed by a puff of hot air and you were sure that this was it. The Dire-cat was merely checking to see if you were worthy enough to eat. That is…until a shrill whistle echoed in the air, freezing the cat's movements above you. One last nudge from its nose and suddenly it was shifting to the side, flopping onto the ground beside you and watching you with a content expression on its face.

“Cassian?” you called out. You wondered if you were actually still alive or if you had finally died.

His hand grasping onto your wrist forced you back into your own head. You hadn’t died. The animal didn’t make you their dinner and as Cassian helped you back to your feet you finally settled on one single thing. Who was capable of controlling a Dire-cat of this size? They were known to be ruthless. Animals that hunted without mercy.

“Did you whistle?” you asked, shaking slightly from the encounter of almost being ripped to shreds. He shook his head. “Someone’s here.”

“Are they with—” he began.

You shrugged. “No clue. Know of any stormtroopers who have the capability of taming a Dire-cat?”

“I don’t think they know these animals exist.”

“Then who—”

Another sharp whistle came from a closer distance, causing the Dire-cat to shift until it was standing behind you. A part of you hoped that whoever tamed this beast was on your side, but still you remained wary of what would come. Gripping the blade even tighter you kept still while Cassian moved the blaster up until it was pointed directly at the treeline. Whoever or whatever revealed themselves would find the situation complicated.

“Don’t shoot!” someone called from within the trees. “I’m not with the Empire!”

Something clicked in your mind, a small sliver of recognition and yet you refused to let yourself fall into what might be a trap. “How do we know?” you responded, feeling your body tense as the Dire-cat let out a breath.

They chuckled, the leaves rustling as they came forward. “Oh come on K’tusah, you really think I’d switch sides this late in the game?”

The sight of his familiar mop of dark blue hair and blue skin had the fear melting from your body within moments. “Nomad?”

“You really believe those kriffing banthas could tame a beauty like her?”

“Nomad.” You could get no other words out, because there stood a friend you thought you lost contact with so many years ago. “You’re—”

“Alive? Here in the flesh? Did you miss me?”

Sprinting towards him, you flung your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug that was long overdue. You recall watching him leave. Saying goodbye the only way he knew how—saluting as he hopped into his worn down ship. I’m off to join the fight. Words you knew all too well, but never believed someone close to you would ever say. Off to fight a war bigger than himself and so you watched him leave.

Willing that the Force—if it exists—would protect him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he whispered, pushing his face into your shoulder with a smile on his lips.

“When you didn’t reach out I thought—I thought you died Nomad.”

He shrugged, pulling back to wipe the stray tear that fell down your cheek. The warm expression you’d grown so used to seeing gave you a moment of peace within the flurry of chaos that had become your life. Your friend, the person who taught you most of what you know, stood before you—very much alive.

“It’ll take more than an Empire to get rid of me K’tusah. You know that.”

You laughed, letting go of him only to feel a cold, wet nose nuzzle against your neck. “The Dire-cat…”

“K’uscasi. She’s been with me since I came back to Corellia.”

Turning to watch as K’uscasi pushed her nose into Cassian instead, you felt some of the fear—the worry—begin to dissipate. “Right,” you said, heading towards Cassian who seemed intent on remaining as still as possible while she investigated whether or not he was worthy. “This is Cassian Andor. Cassian, this is Vonn Woutuc, pilot for the Rebellion.”

“The Rebellion?” he asked, surging forward. “You’re a pilot?”

Vonn nodded. “Have been for a while. My ship crashed a while back and I’ve been scouring around for another one. If you haven’t noticed, it’s been a bit dangerous to try and contact the Rebellion here.”

“You’ve been here this whole time?” The question fell from your lips before you could stop it—the pain laced in your tone enough to shift his body language.

“Don’t give me that look K’tusah; you know as well as I do that laying low was my only option.”

He was right. If the Empire found that a Rebel pilot was in their midst they would do anything they could to get even a sliver of information out of him. The ongoing war…it only got bloodier by the day. You sure as hell didn’t want Vonn’s blood to be mixed in with all the others. Death was something you not only feared but did your best to stay away from, but even now it seemed that there was only one way to finally end this fight once and for all.

Death would always be inevitable.

“Well, I have to get off this planet,” Cassian said, stepping noticeably away from the Dire-cat. “I could help you find a ship.”

“I hear there’s some traders on the other side of the mountains. They might have something there.”

“Are they allies?”

Vonn shrugged. “At this point I don’t have any preferences for people who have what I need.”

They talked, a plan forming quicker than expected to travel through the mountains, and in all that time…they never once mentioned you. Suddenly you’d become an afterthought. Someone they no longer considered a part of their mission. You weren’t sure what irritated you more. The fact that Cassian believed you to be separated from this fight, or that Vonn would exclude you from something that he knew was just as much your life as it was his.

“And what am I supposed to do?” you cut in, crossing your arms over your chest.

Vonn hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to formulate a response you’d prefer. “You need to go home.”

Well that was certainly not what you expected—not when it came to him.

“What do you mean go home?”

“The only way to keep you safe is if you go home.”

You had half a mind to send your fist flying towards his face. “You’re not being serious right? My home—the same place where I rescued his ass—is now either on fire or being occupied by stormtroopers. So where else am I supposed to go?”

“He’s right—” Your glare cut off Cassian’s words; his jaw snapping shut as he glanced away.

“I’m going with you.” Vonn’s expression told you otherwise, but you were done taking orders from them. “Whether you want me to or not.”

“Maker you’re as stubborn as a fucking falumpaset,” Vonn muttered, running a hand down his face.

You grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment Nomad.” Moving past the two men who seemed to detest the idea of you joining them, you happily pet the Dire-cat before grabbing your things. “If you’re planning on heading to the mountains, it’s going to be a day’s ride. You two can take the speeder. I’ll take her.”

“K’uscasi only responds well to me. So why don’t you let me—” He stopped where he was, eyes wide as he watched you clamber onto her back with ease, being careful to avoid the spines that protruded out of her back.

You smiled. “You were saying?”

He muttered something illegible in Cheunh; words you knew were no doubt either cursing your existence or once again commenting on how irritable you could be. When you first met Vonn you didn’t expect to gain a lifelong friend. That was mainly due to the fact that he hated you right off the bat—claiming that he’d never met someone as stubborn as you to a point where it became irritating. You didn’t bother to take his words to heart. In the end he was the one crying as he left to go join the fight, ultimately leaving you here.

“She is always this stubborn?” Cassian’s low voice filtered through the air as you nudged K’uscasi forward. His words made you smile.

Vonn sighed, clambering onto the back of the speeder behind Cassian. “Stubborn is putting it lightly.”

The familiar sound of your speeder starting up echoed off the trees in the surrounding area. The trek through the mountains had always been something you were afraid of doing. You knew the way after so many years of living on the border of them, but you’d also heard the horror stories of those that resided in the very forest you were heading into. You’d heard what happened to people who never made it back.

It was enough to scare you into remaining where you were.

K’uscasi rumbled beneath you as she ducked low enough to pass beneath the branches, giving you a warning to do the same. Thankfully she was only trotting. You weren’t too sure you wanted to be on the back of a Dire-cat when they took off sprinting. Cassian and Vonn followed close behind, going at a steady pace and sticking to the trail you were making. Vonn may have laid low in these woods, but he didn’t know the ins and outs of the pathways—he hadn’t spent his years pouring over maps of this planet in the hopes of escaping it one day.

“What made you want to join the Rebellion Cassian?” you called over your shoulder, wanting to fill the void of silence. Any conversation was better than no conversation in your book.

“It’s a long story,” he replied.

“It’s bound to happen to all of us eventually,” Vonn spoke up. “The Empire can only bring destruction for so long before a reckoning starts to stop it.”

“Who told you that?” Cassian asked.”

“She did.” You knew who Vonn was pointing to; you remembered saying those words to him all those years ago when it was you who was adamant on joining. In your own mind you wanted to be a pilot or even an engineer, but life had a different path for you in the end.

One that was sadly your own doing.

“You wanted to join the fight?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you grinned at the surprise on Cassian’s face. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“No.”

“Good.” You shifted K’uscasi to the left, recognizing the path on one of the many maps you kept.

Thankfully the sun would remain up for a few more hours, giving the three of you enough time to travel as far as possible. Getting up the mountain wasn’t the hard part. It was what came after that would put all of you to the test. There’s a reason why this trip wasn’t simply one made when they felt like getting to the otherside of Corellia. Nobody traveled this way anymore. That’s what ships were for, but if there’s one thing all of you could count on—it was that the Empire wouldn’t trek this pathway to find you.

And if they did…they wouldn’t survive.

Wincing as you slid off K’uscasi’s back, your bones were jarred once your feet landed on the ground with the thud. You’d been riding for hours, the sun slowly but steadily sinking lower and lower with every passing hour. Until it was too late for the three of you to keep going. Vonn grabbed his bag off the back of the speeder, heading into the thicket of trees around the small clearing. He’d always been a master at setting traps; making sure that there was always a way to take out the enemy before they got to you.

“We should build a fire,” you said, wincing at the pain in your back. The salve from earlier was starting to wear off, leaving an ache to form where your skin had yet to fully heal.

“That will alert others of our location,” Cassian said, watching you warily as you leaned heavily to one side.

“No.” Inhaling deeply, you shoved the pain aside, trying to focus instead on the man in front of you. “We’re so deep into the forest that they’d have to be flying directly over our heads to see the smoke.”

Vonn silently returned from the trees, shutting his bag and setting it beside K’uscasi. “She’s right. The trees should keep us covered through nightfall. But once that sun comes up we need to haul ass through this forest.” He pointed in the distance to where a peak of a mountain top was visible. “It’s called Nomad Mountains for a reason.”

You caught Cassian’s eye, shrugging as Vonn moved to the other side of the clearing to set more traps. “There’s a reason why I call him Nomad.”

Not giving him time to question you further, you headed towards the base of a tree, gathering what wood you could. Thankfully he didn’t push, even though you somehow knew it was in his nature to do so, and chose to simply help you. He crouched beside where you were, digging through the fallen leaves to find larger sticks and brush to help keep the fire steady. Meanwhile Vonn was placing rocks to form a circle small enough to keep what fire you made untraceable, but large enough to keep the three of you warm.

The small lighter in your pocket once belonged to your grandfather. Never did you think you would need it for a time like this. The fire thankfully lit easier than you anticipated, bringing warmth to your face almost instantly. You were in a crouched position, the burn of your wound now spreading down your back and towards your thighs. Eventually the remaining strength in your body would give in, but for now you were able to stand. Granted you groaned in pain on the way up.

Years of hiding out on the edges of the forest with Vonn had made the two of you so used to this routine. Only now it was to actually keep one another safe. You’d been living with the Empire over your heads for so long, the thought of actually being in the fight against it and that becoming your reality never entered your mind.

You wanted to laugh at the hilarity of it all.

How only days ago you were wondering where your parents were as you sat alone in your house. Yet now you stood here, beside two fighters in the Rebellion and you were somehow able to call yourself one of them. You’d been fighting for years and you just had yet to realize it.

Cassian landing in your front yard was that realization.

“Do you need help?” he asked, butting into your thoughts and capturing your attention.

It almost startled you how brown his eyes were; how the level of concern in them almost rivaled the anger in them when he first woke up. The emotion that rose in your chest scared you enough to shy away from it—to pretend that it didn’t exist. You were helping him to leave. Emotions like that couldn’t exist, because what could you do with a Rebel pilot?

How could that ever be something more than a rushed relationship? More than just the few minutes you were able to snatch together, hoping for more.

No, you’d been on a planet hoping—wishing on every star you could see—that your parents would one day return to you.

You wouldn’t do the same for someone else.

“The salve wore off,” you replied, trying to make it seem like you’d been mulling over his question rather than the small crush you were starting to harbor for him. A crush that you refused to even acknowledge.

“I threw it in your bag.”

Nodding, you reached for the brown satchel, digging through what personal items you managed to save. A small picture of your parents, a piece of jewelry said to be passed down through the generations and a ring. It was far too big to fit your finger and far too big to have ever fit your mothers. You came to the conclusion that it belonged to your father—the insignia familiar, but something that would have been forgotten about with the Empire at large.

“You don’t have to do this.” Sitting down slowly on the ground, you bit down on your lip until you tasted copper as your back hit the tree behind you.

“Something tells me I do,” he surmised.

You huffed a breath of laughter. “What tells you that?”

Rather than respond, he simply reached for the hem of your shirt, helping you pull it up slowly until the majority of your wound was bared to him. His hands radiated warmth and you were unable to fight against the shudder that went down your spine. As much as you loved the forests on Corellia—they were cold. If one wasn’t careful, they could freeze to the death during the night. Hence the thick jacket you had taken off to drape over your legs.

He pressed his palm along your ribs, his eyes flickering up to meet yours and for a brief glimpse of time you allowed the crush to form. You gave into the feeling and wondered what it would be like to call him yours. It was truly ridiculous to think of something happening this quickly. So, you shoved it back down, slamming the lid on it to seal it away forever.

But that didn’t stop him from gently gliding his fingers along the edge of the wound, checking if it was healing properly. This was merely a kind gesture towards you. He wasn’t trying to feel you up in any way. So why were you so affected?

“It’s starting to heal,” he murmured, gathering a small bit of salve on his fingers and running it over the open wound.

The sighed out moan that practically fell from your lips was involuntary. Simply a reaction to the instant relief that spread through your body, but that didn’t stop you from ducking your head in an attempt to avoid his gaze. You wished Vonn would show up and interrupt this. Make his presence known rather than fiddle with the traps out in the darkness. At least then you wouldn’t be left alone with Cassian.

The firelight played on the side of Cassian’s face, casting shadows over his stubbled jaw and serious expression. You found that you couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like when he wasn’t stressed. When he was by all means…happy.

Maker, you could barely even remember the last time you were happy. With the Empire at large and your whole life meant to be made as small as possible—you were stuck in a pit of darkness. Unable to get out. You could only imagine what someone like Cassian was going through. Someone who chose to fight against what others would call a lost cause.

“Why did you join the Rebellion?” you breathed.

He turned to look at you, pausing his movements and setting the salve on your thigh. “Why didn’t you?”

That made you smile. “You can’t answer my question with another question.”

“Why not?”

“There you go again.”

He laughed; the sound lighting something in your chest so bright it nearly burned you from the inside out. “I made a choice to finally do something meaningful with my life.”

Nodding, you leaned back. He shifted so you could press your injured back against him rather than the rough bark of a tree. The small act didn’t mean much to him, but to you it was enough for those pesky feelings to peek their head up again. Only a few hours ago he tried to put a knife through you and now here you were…crushing on him. Unbelievable.

“Something tells me that’s not the whole reason.”

He glanced down, the firelight catching the brown of his eyes and turning them molten. “What tells you that?” he asked, mimicking you from earlier.

“You lived a life before joining,” you replied, choosing to stare at the fire instead. “The Rebellion isn’t old, but resistance has always been there. In everything. You’ve probably been walking that path a lot longer than you think you have. So much so that…it chose you.”

Reading people used to be a talent of yours. To a point where Vonn began calling you a Jedi, because of how well you could get into people’s minds, figure out who they were all within a short span of meeting them. But in all honesty…you were no Jedi. You were just a person who held onto more than you were ever allowed to say out loud. Cassian didn’t look at you, he didn’t respond, but something told you that you understood him more than even he expected.

You figured out exactly who he was before he did and he wasn’t sure if he liked that.

After some time, he spoke again.

“Why didn’t you follow Vonn?”

You moved, your head falling to his shoulder in an effort to make yourself comfortable. If he didn’t like it, he didn’t say anything about it, so you remained where you were.

“I didn’t know at the time that my parents weren’t coming home.”

“They left?”

You nodded. “A long time ago.” Sighing, you picked at the worn leather of your coat. “I thought they would come back eventually. But after Vonn left and I was truly on my own I realized that…they wouldn’t be returning.”

“So why not join?”

“You talk about it like it was easy for you to join. I wanted to. I still do. But leaving the only home you’ve ever known…it’s not easy. Although maybe it was for you.”

He stilled. “I didn’t have a choice in whether I wanted to leave or not.”

“What do you mean?”

Again he fell silent, but you fell silent with him. After all, the conversation was not so vital that letting it trail off would do any harm to either of you. But you found that you wanted to know more. You wanted him to tell you personally what made his mind tick, what made him choose this life over anything else. You wanted to know him.

“I was…adopted,” he hesitated, as if even he wasn’t sure that was the right answer.

“Rescued?”

“I think so.” He sighed, his arm shifting and hand falling to rest on your thigh. “I don’t know.”

A piece of wood crackled on the fire, and you caught a glimpse of Vonn coming through the trees catching your eye. He smiled briefly, wiggling his eyebrows at the sight of you and Cassian curled up together, before heading towards K’uscasi who was sound asleep.

“Were they…kind people?”

“Yes,” he replied without thinking twice about it. “I had a good life. At least I like to believe it was good. I wasn’t starving or without a bed.”

“But not an easy one.”

“What?”

“You said good, not easy.” You shrugged. “Having a good life doesn’t equate having an easy one. No one joins the Rebellion if their life choices were easy.”

Once again you startled him into silence, his mind reeling with the realization that perhaps you were more capable in reading people than even you believed yourself to be. “No, not easy. Is that why you didn’t join? Your life was easy, because it doesn’t sound that way to me.”

You stared at the fire, realizing that you now knew what it felt like. What to burn really meant. You weren’t sure if you liked that realization knowing that the scars of what you’d done would remain with you forever. Cassian—even if he were to leave—would have a piece of himself literally carved into your skin. That thought terrified you more than his question did.

“My life was far from easy flyboy,” you muttered, ignoring his scoff at the nickname. “I didn’t join because…I was scared.”

Admitting it now made the reason feel ridiculous, but it was true. All those years spent looking up at the sky wishing for an escape and you never created one for yourself. You had to wait for him to show up to give yourself enough of a reason to go. Joining the fight was grand and great in the scheme of things. Yet actually doing it—committing your entire life to something that very well might end it—scared the shit out of you.

“I know that may sound dumb to you,” you sighed.

“No. It doesn’t.” His hand found yours, gathering your cold palm into his warm one. “I’ve been afraid since I was a child. The fear…it never really goes away. It’s just something you learn to live with.”

“How do you live with it?”

Another piece of wood crackled, sending sparks into the night sky. “You hope that one day things will be better and go from there.”

“Ah yes hope.” You smiled, tracing his palm with your finger. “The one thing keeping this whole thing together. Rebellions are built on hope, you know. Without it…there’s nothing to fight for.”

“There’s your reason.”

You turned slightly to look him in the eyes. “What reason?”

“To join,” he stated. “Hope is greater than fear.”

Laughing, you dropped your head back to his shoulder. “Don’t you have to, I don’t know, be knighted or something in order to join the fight?”

He laughed along with you, the sound echoing beside your ear and sending a shiver down your spine. You knew that once you parted, you would ache to hear that sound again. That thought alone had a knot form in your stomach—one that wouldn’t diminish any time soon. Cassian Andor was meant for far greater than this small adventure to get back to his real life. And you…you would return to your house, say goodbye to both Cassian and Vonn, and live out your days on a planet that would one day destroy you from the inside out.

But for now you would enjoy what little time you had with him—with them both.

“I’m a Captain. Technically I could knight you as you say.”

“And what would that make me?”

“Free,” he said.

The one thing you valued above anything else in your life. The chance to finally be free from the things holding you here. You wanted to see the stars, to finally make your life hold meaning, then this was your chance. The one thing you’d been waiting for.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His eyebrows raised, lips pulling up into a grin. “Okay?”

You nodded. “I’m in.”

#cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor x fem!reader #cassian andor fanfiction #andor #my writing

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tiptapricot · 2 years ago

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Ok ok this ended up so long bUT

Gods and Monsters is a better MK ep than ppl view it as n here’s why >:-)

Let’s start off with general commentary on the ep as a whole:

The um… I can’t believe no one has talked ab the title song here. It’s The End by Earl Grant, and the lyrics we hear are: “At the end of a rainbow, you’ll find a pot of gold. At the end of a story, you’ll find it’s all been told. But our love has a treasure, our hearts can always spend. And it has, a story, without any end. At the end of a river, the water stops it’s flow…” AND THEN IT HAS THE BLURRY ECHOEY TRANSITION TO PULLING THE SYS’S BODY OUT OF THE FUCKING WATER AND ITS LIKE AND ITS LIKE ok I’m not normal but I am but I’m not

The lyrics here sum up so much of this episode’s vibes. It is about the end, but it’s also not, because things continue on. It is about love, love living forever and pulling people gently through their lives. But things have to end, at some point, and sometimes the story has nothing left to tell, we simply have to ease away and let things move forward, lapping, flowing, breathing, existing. I’ll get more into this later.

At the start after the opening we also get the line “Marc Spector, Steven Grant, whoever else might be in there,” which is a line with sO much weight for Jake, as well as any other extended system members we don’t or won’t see

ALSO the line “Sometimes we need the cold light of death before we can see reality,” is uh??? Very fucking poignant considering death IS LITERALLY what helps both Steven and Marc come to terms with their places with each other, with the care and understanding they hold, and the space they have in each other’s lives and together working as a whole

Obviously it’s not in the way Harrow means it, bc he’s an asshole and I hate him, but this is still so fucking on theme because the system coming back to life also solidifies their goals and views on what they’re fighting for, on who. Will touch more on later, but the through lines and intentional call backs in MK are so fucking good and interesting every time.

We also get to follow Layla as her own independent entity for the first chunk of the episode, getting to see more strongly how she operates on her own away from the system and just getting some fucking WONDERFUL acting from May Calamawy

Truly, the scene where it really sets in for her that Marc and Steven are dead, and we just see that realization land slowly and strongly and see her face break, and she cries over the body and presses against their chest and kisses their forehead, and THE FUCKING RAGE we see settle into her face as she stands up and readies herself to take revenge just UGH chefs kissing

We saw similar stuff in The Tomb but here we really get to see her shine, get to see her make choices and be flawed and be angry and go to do something we as the audience knows is stupid (“… a suicide mission to stop Harrow all by herself”) and it’s just SUCH a good moment for her ugh god ok ok

May’s skill is truly on display in this episode and it makes me fucking NUTS also she’s so pretty I’m not into women but for Layla I could be

The scene where she goes after Harrow after he cleanses the souls of the checkpoint (?) guards and Taweret barely stops her is also a perfect insight into her and Marc’s dynamic, both of them being emotionally driven and nearly incapable of stopping once they’re on a course

Also small but I love Taweret talking through dead people it’s so unnerving n creepy but also she’s so sweet I love her :-)c

The other avatars getting fucking wiped out off screen WAS a weird choice which I’ll get into in critiques, but after further watches it does make sense. We know from the trial that they are meant to be passive observers, and likely wouldn’t have much power or skill when it comes to fighting, which Harrow confirms when he says they’re judges not warriors. Also… also it’s funny. Again will go more in depth in critiques but… get fucking owned fuck you

Ammit’s. Fucking. Design. AND THE CHORAL SWELLS LEADING UP TO HER USHABTI BREAKING GODDDD. She is so cool and I love her voice and I love her, and this is also a really strong scene overall, showing the hypocrisy in Ammit’s view of the world. Her main cult leader is unbalanced, but he serves her goal when someone who was perfectly balanced didn’t so she doesn’t care, therefore proving her morals are moot no matter what.

I’ll talk more ab Wendy parallels later bc that’s a big thing, but what I will say here is that this ties into those similarities by showing that the moral judgement of people with a twisted view of the world is almost always never applied to themselves. They blame others for causing pain but do not hold themselves to that level, nor do they recognize the pain they themselves cause because it would mean self reflection on their world view as a whole.

Next we have Layla and Khonshu’s interaction which is another FUCKING FANTASTIC MOMENT!! Khonshu immediately goes to take advantage of her, but Layla rebuffs him without a second thought, shattering any piece of control Khonshu could have leveraged over Marc to keep him in service, and also showing that Layla is beyond that, that she trusts Marc, sees the pain Khonshu has caused him, and even in death and in an emergency would never agree to do that same harm to herself.

She also emphasizes that Marc died fighting “your war,” solidifying that Marc is being used as a tool and a pawn to further Khonshu’s goal, and that it is not his job to fight it, no matter what he may want or believe, he should be able to make those choices without being used for someone else’s agenda.

Also get fucking rejected Khonshu fuck you

Next…. Marc in the field of reeds. I yell. I scream. I cry a little.

He has everything he has ever wanted, a rest, a paradise. Taweret says his heart is full, his journey is over, and you can see how Marc aches for that to be true, how he breathes so quietly, so overwhelmed. But then he immediately asks after Steven, and when told that he “doesn’t need him anymore” he just knows that’s not true. One of them doesn’t get to move on alone, that’s not how it works, that’s not how it’s meant to be.

Marc Spector gives up paradise without a second thought, because Steven is a core piece of his life, of him, and paradise is nothing when it is skewed so incorrectly

Also FUCK the way the field of reeds visually melts into the Duat and then its quiet soft music swells and grows to a sudden fever pitch as Marc morphs the world and pushes through a barrier he can never return through, gives me fucking CHILLS GOD FUCK

It gives such a perfect auditory-tactile experience of the differences between the two places, the lightness of the field of reeds, of peace, versus the weight of the Duat, of being dragged down into the sands. The fucking score on this shit I swEAR

We get a moment of intercut Khonshu and Ammit, tying the chronological passing of time between worlds together, and giving such a powerful push between their ideologies on both sides. It’s short, but very good, and again highlights Ammit’s hypocrisy

Then… the speech in the Duat. We all love this scene. It is so good. It is perfectly acted, soft and weighty and emotional, and shows just how far Marc has come, the way that his journey has changed him and loosened the part of himself that is able to express the care and thoughts and memories that he’s been repressing for so long. Marc Spector cares so deeply for the people in his life, and Steven has been a constant since he was younger, his support and his friend, even if it was one sided because he was alone and isolated but now he doesn’t have to be, and just and just—

Love in any form being the genesis of life and that being the thing that has Osiris open the doors for them, lets them breathe and escape the Duat, that’s all I have to say.

And the HUG

And the MUSIC

And the wAY STEVEN IS SO TAKEN ABACK BY HAVING SOMEONE COME BACK FOR HIM AND HOW THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST EMOTIONALLY OPEN MOMENTS MARC HAS HAD

This scene. This fucking scene. THIS FUCKING SCENE YOU GUYS.

Might b unpopular but I fucking love Khonshu n Ammit’s fighting. Khonshu’s airy and intense way of moving and Ammit’s strong and grounded reactions, it’s a perfect dichotomy

“Hippo!!”

The muted patchy scene of Marc crawling out of the water, bleeding and desperate, but alive, then Khonshu’s voice ringing in his head so familiar, and the way death is shown as Marc’s low point, as his self hate and his violence and his loneliness when Khonshu first came to him, and that life is shown as being quite literally Layla herself

It’s so quick but so perfectly juxtaposes these two against each other, the importance of choosing love and the people who care about you and using that to unstick from moments of trauma and self hatred, having that lifeline and source of healing, of love being life

And we get another shot of Layla, being held by Marc, looking at him, before there is a quiet, weighty shot of the bullets falling from Marc’s chest. And then we see him rise, breathing, casually adjusting his outfit as the suit forms, something new behind his actions

He is no longer fighting for Khonshu, he’s fighting for himself, for Layla, for life

I love when the suits are so clearly real, and we then get the fucking FANTASTIC convo between Khonshu and Marc and Steven, with Khonshu deflecting the question about being rejected, and Steven switching in so easily to sass and to hold the system’s boundaries and gain their independence (to his knowledge). This also indicates the new dynamic between Marc and Steven, the ease of being cocon and the trust in leaning on each other while fighting

Never gonna get tired of Taweret, yelling through a dead body like a teenage girl on a phone call just going: “LayLAAAAAAA!!!!!!” she’s so excited

AND THEN AND THEN MAY CALAMAWY COMING IN CLUTCH AGAIN acting as Taweret controlling Layla’s body. Her switches between the two n her acting of being moved around by something else, and her exhaustion, and the character catharsis of getting to know her father is at peace after all this, that he found happiness and paradise and still gets to be proud of her, it’s such a good moment

Ahem. AHEM. Scarlet Scarab. Her outfit is so good, the music is so good, her smirk at the camera, the unfurling of her wings, I fucking love her.

Marc flying has so much weight and it’s so fucking fun. This finale fight is a release of energy, of cathartic action and push that the show has built through its depth of character exploration, and truly it feels earned to me. It is intense and ecstatic and just joyfully done.

IT HAS A BOTH METAPHORICAL AND LITERAL FUCKING GOD KAIJU FIGHT OK WHAT ELSE COULD YOU WANT

And more SERIOUSLY Khonshu and Ammit’s fight mirrors their avatars when it comes to who has the upper hand, changing as they fight dynamically through Cairo

LAYLA SAVING MARC HAVING HER OWN MUSICAL STING MARC GRABBING HER FACE AND SAYING “Oh baby,” STEVEN SWITCHING IN TO COMPLIMENT HER SO TENDERLY AND THEN THE THREE OF THEM KICKING FUCKING ASS

This scene is sO FUCKING GOOD for small relationship moments and showing their arcs. It shows the smoothness, the trust, the autonomy they all hold within themselves and in relation to each other.

General fight details I love: Khonshu’s staff having weight and effect on the area around him, the pump up music as Steven and Layla rush into battle, Steven knowing how to fight now that there’s fewer barriers between him and Marc, but still having his own style, his own moves, his FLIP OVER THE LASER, the way his baton bounces around and is caught by Marc instead, the fact that Marc jumping over the car IS A REAL STUNT WHICH IS SO FUCKING COOL, battle couple Layla and Marc/Steven, Steven brushing off his jacket mid fight, Marc exploding out of the storefront w a little grapple, LAYLA SAVING THE YOUNG GIRL AND STOPPING THE VAN AND GETTING TO BE SOMEONE EGYPTIAN GIRLS CAN LOOK UP TO GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

This entire fight is overall just choreographed so fucking well and is so engaging, but we also see them lose. It’s also an extremely important scene for Ammit and Wendy ties which I will again get into later.

The fucking… the slow motion silent angled shot of Ammit pushing Khonshu down with his own weapon as Harrow slowly steps onto screen and advances towards Marc. The battle is lost. They lost.

And then. It cuts out.

I love this choice I love it so much. Someone before the finale release was like: what if Layla n Marc and Steven are gearing up for battle and then it just cuts to the end and we have no idea what happened because Jake took front?

AND WELL THEY KINDA DID THAT AND I LOVE IT

It’s so unexpected, such a subversion from the usual epic final fight scene, because this isn’t usual, there are things happening the characters and audience don’t understand and it’s understandably disorienting as a result.

I just… I love the fucking huge gods juxtaposed on the background it’s such a good choice

Layla and Marc saving the day together :-) Holding hands :-)

The way Ammit disappears is so interesting and I fucking LOVE the way they did that it looks so fucking cool, her dress cracking to pieces and her tail/hair being eaten up by energy

The moment where Marc refuses to kill Ammit/Harrow is so important, because it’s not about the killing itself, it’s about Marc having agency, about having choice between death and life, about getting to recognize he can make choices without Khonshu. The line “You want them dead… do it yourself,” IS aHHHH!!

It’s about Khonshu not using Marc as an extension of himself, it’s about Marc choosing not to kill someone even if they deserve it because he would be manipulated into doing it and he needs to be able to make choices that heavy without being under duress.

God. GOD OK.

Now, the doctor Harrow scene when the system is released. We all know this is in a different spot then it was before, and I have my own issues w that, but here’s in support of it being where it is:

I think with the new placement, this scene is no longer about Marc and Steven breaking out of the construction in the Duat, but more about coming to peace with… them. With the fears they have about existing on their own, with the uncertainty of a new structure, with the doubts they still hold, but they have each other, and in many ways this scene is also them rejecting the realities of control Khonshu pushed on them about not being able to escape his service

Also of course, OSCAR FUCKING ISAACS ACTING IN THIS SCENE HOLY FUCK It is a joy to watch

As for how this scene is experienced, it very much seems like a dream, which makes sense. They’ve both been through a lot, a lot of trauma, a lot of events in a short period of time, and their first rest after Cairo having their brain working through that, taking pieces of the last few days, and “Going to save the world” being taken not as literally going to a fight but instead… a gentle awakening

They are free. They are at peace. They have saved their world, and created a new one.

ALSO EP ONE PARALLELS BUT NOW NEITHER OF THEM ARE ALONE AND THEY HAVE TWO FISHES N THEYRE TIRED N DROWSY N BANTERING AND JUST

And of course… Jake Lockley. The man the myth the legend.

The music here is so soft and atmospheric and then cuts off abruptly when the car door closes, shutting Harrow off from the outside world

Enough has been said ab this scene but god god god god fuck it is so good. And I love the use of older more vintage feeling songs at so many points in this episode too, they are so fantastic and give it such a vibe.

So now, critiques:

I do agree that pacing can be weird in this episode, or that it feels like it should be bigger than it is, and I think with more time to breathe it could’ve elevated itself higher, but again, the more I watch it the more natural it feels? The fast pace goes smoother, but I still wish there had been more

I do still think there are some lines or moments that are clunky, like having some weird cuts where things happen off screen for some reason (Harrow’s staff changing into an axe, the jurors/other avatars getting killed in a very anticlimactic way therefore making their characters feel moot, etc.), but I also have that issue with other episodes, which is why this is not my one singular favorite.

The Dr. Harrow scene is in a rlly weird spot still even if I don’t really mind it, and I do wish we got the cool directorial shot teased in the trailer of them falling back in his office cutting to falling back in the water, but we didn’t so 🤷

The scene w Marc refusing to kill Ammit should’ve been framed/written differently because as is it lands a little clunkily. I still think it has a good point, but it feels weird in context.

Overall I do wish they had had more time to flesh out the story and beats, and that certain things were framed diff, but I’m also trying to take it as is and enjoy what’s there and see it with its own merit, which I think is rlly important bc it helps to see the story the team was able to create even within their limited episode and time slot allowance

It isn’t perfect! No TV is, but I hope I’ve given some stuff that shows why I enjoy it so much and why I think it deserves more credit

Ammit and Wendy and the Missing Scene

This is a big one! And honestly I have a balance of not really having an opinion, and having some stuff I want to add

So first off yes, the scene with Marc and Steven confronting Wendy would’ve solidly tied and solidified Ammit’s views to hers as thematic parallels, and it’s a hell of a thing to cut and changes the story we get as a result

But that’s also the thing: it changes the story, it doesn’t make it worse

When shows and movies and media have deleted scenes, they are fun, they give us new insight into the material and the writing process, and give us extra looks at the characters, as well as alternate routes it could’ve taken

But those scenes are still not canon, and therefore can’t exactly hurt against the on screen material

Yea the Ammit and Wendy thing being made solid and clear would’ve been cool! I do want to see the scene, but I also recognize that it’s… not in the episode. And so the episode is different, and the show is different, and I don’t think it’s fair to judge solely on what “could’ve been”

I also think the parallels were very well done on their own! Many lines from Harrow and Ammit in this episode tie the two together, yes, subtly, but that’s why we examine and analyze works, to catch the intentions behind things

Harrow’s line while defeating the system in the final fight about how Ammit would’ve saved Roro and Marc’s family as a result is also an extremely blatant reference in it of itself, directly connecting the two characters and ideologies

So basically… I would like to see the scene, I think it was important and would’ve made a strong message about triumphing over pain to accept the self, and would’ve really strongly mirrored the themes of the Lemire run, however at the same time I recognize that’s not what we got, and trying to compare a story’s message to a hypothetical version of itself clouds the already great point and messages present in the original

You can’t compare two things not aiming at the same end goal

So can I say which one is better? No because we didn’t get that other version, and all we can do is speculate. Overall I am neutral, but I felt like these ideas should b included here since it influences how I view the finale

Overall thoughts

To me, the message of Gods and Monsters is not meant to be a big cathartic moment, it is not meant to have a perfect climax and a perfect ending, or to have the triumph of the Lemire run, it is meant to be slower, fuzzy around the edges.

It, to me, is about the slow and messy process of healing from trauma, of moving forward via love and support and making new beginnings and just… living. Trauma is not something that goes away, it is not fixed, there is not one single moment of overcoming it and everything is better, it is about moving on with it.

I don’t exactly think the Ammit and Wendy scene would’ve been this, but again, I enjoy the outcome the show ended up with even in it’s absence because it spins things differently in an equally important way, focusing on persevering through highs and lows, forward.

And that’s what I like about the more gentle wrap up, it gives room to breathe and for expectation. The story is wrapped up, but it is not finished, because it never will be. We are peeking into a life for the beginning of a journey and seeing that it expands beyond us, because that’s what it will do.

And the culmination of the characters? Of their relationships? It is imperfect, but it is centered so fucking strongly on how much they care for each other, on love, and presence, and what that brings to their experiences and process of healing

As the opening song goes, “it has a story without any end.”

#this is so long I’m so sorry #if anyone actually reads through this uhhh I’m also sorry #this is a lot of rambling and thoughts but I hope I was able to articulate things in a way that maybe gives a different view on this ep #it is fun and cathartic and has a very strong message of ease and love and continuous life #and I love that about it so much #also big god fight big god fight big god fight #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #layla el faouly #the fruit is talking again

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linkspooky · 4 years ago

Text

What Eren Wants

After all the mystery surrounding Eren’s true intentions, what Eren really wants in the final arc, this chapter lays it out quite clearly. Eren wants his friends to kill him. Not because he thinks it’s going to achieve some grand objective in a secret plan he’s had all along that requires he sacrifice his own life. I think Eren just wants to die. Suicidal ideation, is a symptom of a much bigger underlying problem, it’s a passive longing to die. More on this, and more on Eren under the cut.

1. No Future

Eren is committing metaphorical suicide in his final act with the rumbling. It’s a pretty thinly veiled metaphor too, considering Eren just tells his friends that they have to kill him. Consider the two characters who Eren is paralleled against the most with this arc: Zeke and Reiner.

Zeke’s wish has always been the opposite of Eren’s. Eren believes he was free because he was born in this world. Zeke, who was born as a part of some great plan, not as a child to be loved, but a child to be made into a soldier a tool for his parents wishes he wasn’t born. He thinks all suffering can be avoiding if only he never existed in the first place.

This wish, to stop existing, because it’s the only way to end suffering is plain and simple suicidal ideation. Xander even tells Zeke as much when recounting the story of his family, that he became a warrior candidate because he wanted to die in the worst way possible.

Consider Zeke’s view of his own life. HIs family never loved him. He was born without love, therefore there’s no love in his life, and no future. Not only is there no future for him, but there’s no future for all Eldians in general. From that point forward what Zeke seeks is not to heal, but rather to alleviate pain. They’re the thoughts of a suicidal person.

Reiner who is compared to Eren endlessly, who committed the same sin that Eren did, deciding to knock down the walls and destroy everybody inside is shown with this same hopelessness in regards to his own life.

Once again there’s the repettition for the wish for it all to end. Reiner who is a child soldier just like Eren. Reiner who once believed he was doing something good, that he was fighting for a cause. Reiner’s wish to die is even more thinly veiled then Eren’s.

In this scene Reiner is exposed to Eren’s desire to be like him and Mikasa, to be someone he perceives as strong, and also his fear deep down that he’s going to die a worthless death. He’s going to die having achieved nothing. This is important for later, because Eren’s suicide isn’t just killing himself, he’s also staging it so he’s dying for a cause, for an idea like freedom, he’s trying desperately to give his death meaning.

Reiner tells Eren that the only thing the both of them can do is to keep moving forward. However, what Eren and Reiner do is they continually throw themselves into more conflict again and again, unnecessary conflicts. That’s why this is paralleled with what happened to Marco because, Marco tried to give them a chance to talk things out but Reiner made it a fight.

Reiner and Eren’s tendency to throw themselves into conflict again and again is, self-harming behavior. They’re intentionally risking their lives because it’s the only way they can try to find meaning in their lives and try to fight against their own feelings of worthlessness.

They are trying to prove something to themselves by putting their lives on the line, they are trying to find meaning in the conflict that has dominated their entire lives (remember they are child soldiers, they were raised not by parents, but by the war around them and it’s practically all they know by this point). Reiner and Eren’s dream to destroy the devils of Paradis, to Eliminate all the Titans has always, always, been paralleled with their wish to die.

Immediately after he says this it cuts to Reiner with a gun in his mouth. It’s not really subtle imagery. Eren also says, something incredibly similiar to Reiner’s series of flashbacks here.

Eren says to Falco there are those like him and Reiner who choose to throw themselves into hell again and again, because they’re hoping to get something out of it. This is willfully self-harming, self-endangering behavior, Eren and Reiner throw themselves into conflict again, and again, and again hoping to try to get some meaning out of that conflict but they won’t because war is hell bla bla bla.

Falco even repeats the line that Eren said to Reiner, because that’s what Eren believes deep down, and what Eren is desperately trying to avoid, that he is weak, that he is powerless, that there is no hope for someone like him. Better to sacrifice his life for some cause, then die a worthless death. And like I said, these feelings have been inside Eren for a long time he even casually thinks about it before kissing HIstoria’s hand. He even begged Historia to kill him in the Uprising Arc. Eren and Reiner have been fighting against these feelings for a long time, and eventually, they grew tired of the fighting.

2. Child Soldiers

The diffference between Reiner and Eren, is Reiner is still able to see some kind of future that Eren himself has given up on.

Falco is what stops Reiner’s suicide. The idea that Falco still needs him. Reiner, Zeke, Eren, the three of them are all child soldiers who need to grow up, but find themselves unable to because they’ve been raised by war not family. Eren’s reckless regard for the lives of children is meant to be compared to Reiner’s protectiveness over Falco and Gabi.

Eren’s suicidal feelings are always connected towards this reckless violence towards children because, for the same reason as Zeke ends up gravitating towards euthenasia, neither Eren nor Zeke can even imagine any kind of future for themselves.

Eren’s fear has always been that he hasn’t grown up. That not a single thing has changed since the day his mother died. That deep down he’s still that useless brat that watched her die. That’s how Eren perceives himself, a child, a brat, that’s how he always has.

We never really saw him get over this self perception either, at best he’s been made aware of this. When Hanji sees Eren acting out, they make constant jokes about Eren just being in his rebellious phase and growing up.

Floch even says, deep down inside, Eren believes he’s always right, therefore he doens’t really ever change his beliefs or give them up when he’s challenged. He acts like an unreasonable child. IE. Someone who cannot be reasoned with.

He even calls Mikasa the grown up for being able to let go and change her beliefs. It makes sense that Eren is this way, he’s been coping terribly with the loss of everything, and constant insecurity since childhood. Child soldiers are, stunted and not well adjusted. None of the characters are in the story, a lot of them still cling onto ideas they’ve held since childhood. Armin still sees himself as the weak one even though he currently has the storngest titan, and is in a position of power and responsibility in the army. Mikasa still sees herself as needing Eren to come home, and needing Eren to be there to have a family even though she’s always been stronger than him. Even though she’s capable of moving on. Annie still wants to run away back to her father, because that’s what he told her to do when he was a little girl.

This is a story where all of the characters are child soldiers struggling to grow up. Even Erwin himself, clings to the dream his father gave him when he was a child. This is the how much the military, and the continual conflict has destroyed the lives of the children it eats up. That’s what Magath realizes in the end, that they were all just normal children, before he got his hands on them.

Eren is just, the worst of this. IN a story where they are all struggling to grow, Eren has given up. Which is why we see both him and Ymir pictured now as eternal children.

Eren is stunted, not only that he’s given up on the possibility that he might ever be better. It’s the way he refers to his own life now. This was always going to happen. He was just born this way. Eren remembers the scene where he gave Mikasa the strength to live, but he only remembers the fighting, only remembers the cruelty where he killed two men in order to save a little girl, and insists that it’s always going to be this way the only way he can keep going is to kill and struggle and kill some more.

3. Live

Eren has all but forgotten the moment where he wrapped the scarf around Mikasa’s face, because the true importance of that scene is now lost on him. What he gave Mikasa was not a reason to fight, but a reason to live. It’s not something Eren gave her by picking up a weapon or telling her to fight, but by being by her side all this time.

Eren who only sees the fighting and not the future after forgets what he was trying to do in that moment, which was save a little girl’s life and tell her to live.

Eren thinks what got Mikasa attached to him was the violence he showed in that moment, the fact that he killed her captors, and not the comfort he showed her afterwards, not the home, because Eren ever since his mother died cannot move past that fact and believes there’s no home in this world for him, no family for a boy who cannot even protect his own mother.

The world is cruel for making them fight to survive, but it’s not just cruel. That’s the idea that Mikasa has always represented. If Falco and Gabi are the children that Reiner protects because they are his last connection to the wrold, then Mikasa is Eren’s most important connection. She represents his desire to do more than just fight, to live in a world th’at scruel, to live together with her.

And Eren is doing his best to turn his back away from her.

Mikasa remembers the connection of that moment, and Eren only remembers the violence, Mikasa a little girl brutally killing two of her captors. Of course they both remember it wrong, Mikasa ignored Eren’s violence and only saw his kindness. Which led her to become codependent on that connection for so long like it was the only one that existed for her, like she could not connect to anybody besides Eren because he was kind to her in that moment. Whereas, Eren has always seen Mikasa’s strength as a barrier to their relationship. He has a complex about Mikasa, she’s stronger than him, when she tries to get close to him and protect him he sees that as her looking down on him.

Eren can’t possibly see why Mikasa would want to be with somebody as weak as him, because he just doesn’t see what’s so lovably about himself. Eren only sees violence, MIkasa only sees love, and because of that they both can’t see each other.

This chapter, it’s Armin who does most of the pleading, but Mikasa is literally always in the center of the frame. She puts her desire most simply. Eren doesn’t have to do this. He doesn’t have to choose death. They could still have a life together.

What Mikasa wants is to live. That’s what her arc has always been about, a little girl who wants to live on in a world that’s cruel. She also wants to be what Eren was to her so long ago. She wants to tell him he can live.

Mikasa is the first one to run to Eren. She’s the one who flashes back to the child Eren because she’s the one who knows him the longest.

When Reiner says that Eren is probably wants it all to end by someone else’s hand. It’s Mikasa who the focus suddenly falls on.

Mikasa will always be Eren’s strongest connection to his own lifeline, his desire to live together and have a future with her, represented by the red scarf wrapped around both of their necks.

When Eren was about to give up on living, Mikasa reminded him that just him being there next to her side all that time was enough for her.

The promise to wrap the scarf around her neck, is simply a process to live with her.

But, Eren doesn’t want that anymore. He just wants to die.

#aot 133 #snk 133 #aot 133 spoilers #snk 133 spoilers #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan meta #shingeki no kyojin meta #eren jaeger #eremika #zeke jaeger #reiner braun #mikasa ackerman #aot meta

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years ago

Note

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long.

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.”

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles.

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

#Nathan Bateman #Nathan Bateman x reader #Oscar Isaac #ex machina

180 notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Note

💖💘my heart’s dizzy and I my dose of serotonin whenever I read your prose🤟🏽😩 was wondering if you could do reader with an erratic future-vision!quirk so when they first meet yandere!Hawks they’re suddenly plagued by erotic, sensual, 365days-level of disturbing visions of them, so reader actively avoids them (it’s like those Tik Tok future-seeing videos playing to “Play Date”)

Prelude - Hawks isn’t a famous pro-hero in this, but he still has his quirk. It’s not really mentioned a bunch tho lol. This is rlly long, but I decided not to put it into two parts because the smut is so slight lol. Hope this meets your expectations anon, thank you for reading!

Pairing - Keigo Takami X Reader

Warnings - NSFW mentions, dubcon, noncon. No out-and-out explicit smut, just a really long story. Hawks is manipulative and gets what he wants

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5ukAQcKEIJuzIbP55xp07x?si=iz6I-RoDSdCNYhT2Du8etg

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

He was a friend of a friend, someone you had only met once or twice.

Your friend kept bringing him to hangouts, he kept showing up on her instagram feed, getting mentioned in her twitterbio, and eventually it came out that they had started dating. It didn’t catch anyone by surprise.

What did catch you by surprise, was how infatuated with him your friend was.

“He’s just sooooo hot, isn’t he?” She squealed, shoving her phone in your face to show off a shirtless pic he had just sent her.

You nodded in agreement, quickly appraising the pic before turning your head. Yeah, her boyfriend was attractive, but you weren’t one to ruin relationships. Plus, you and Keigo had never really talked past the brief “Hey” and “Wassup?” said in greeting when introduced the first time.

“Can he come to the mall with us on Friday? I promise there will be no third wheeling.” Your friend begged, clasping her hands together. You thought about it for a second - this had been a fun shopping trip the two of you had planned a few weeks ago, meant as a girls date on a day the mall wouldn’t be crowded. But would it really hurt anything if her boyfriend came along? Probably not.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” You shrugged, watching your friends face erupt into a wide grin. “But don’t ditch me to go makeout in a bathroom or something, got it?”

“Sir yes sir!” Your friend faux saluted, before patting you on the shoulder. “Thanks girlie!”

You jerked back, head suddenly swarming with visions, your quirk activating. Your quirk was helpful in some ways, but you mainly tried not to use it - headaches resulted, and you hated getting glimpses of the future. Sometimes they’d be good, but they were often bad - you had gotten a screenshot glimpse of your brothers death, his face marred and bleeding out onto the pavement.

It still made you sick to think about it.

Touch wasn’t something you could always avoid, but you tried, seeing as how it activated your quirk, giving you visions of your future with whomever you touched, or whoever touched you.

You saw your friends face, eyes puffy with tears, shouting something. Then another scene flashed, your friend on TV, talking to a reporter.

Thankfully, the visions ended, this episode relatively quick due to how short of a time she touched you.

“Oh shit, I forgot, I’m so sorry.” She rushed to apologize, holding her hands up and backing away from you.

“It’s-it’s fine.” You wheezed, waving your hand in the air to signal that it wasn’t a big deal. The vision just probably meant the two of you would get into a fight soon, which wasn’t uncommon. It was fine, you were fine.

——

The mall wasn’t too crowded, which made the day pleasant. Your friend was talking to her boyfriend, hand tangled with his as the three of you walked in.

“So (Y/N), what do you think about that new Victoria’s Secret launch?” Your friend bumped you with her hip, drawing your attention as she pulled you into the conversation between her and her boyfriend.

“Oh, um… what?” To be fair, you had zoned out when the couple started being gross and mushy, which was like, the second your friend met Keigo at the door.

The blonde man laughed. “Victoria’s Secret just launched a new line of lingerie, have any thoughts about it?”

Turning red, you smiled sheepishly. “Ah, well…. From what I’ve seen of their stuff it’s… nice? So I’m sure it’s good.”

Your friend mock-gasped, almost slapping you on the arm before quickly remembering your quirk, drawing her hand back. You gave a quick nod of thanks.

“(Y/N)! Don’t tell me you didn’t even know about it?! I practically live, eat, and sleep Victoria’s Secret, it’s impossible to miss their product drops when you’re one of my friends.”

Unsure how to respond, you floundered, opening and closing your mouth like a lost fish.

“Babe, leave her be, she’s probably just shy.” Keigo stepped in, giving his girlfriend a chuckle as he steered you both towards a shop.

“Fineeee.” Your friend whined, turning to focus on the task ahead. “They have a VS shop here though, you’re not getting out of here without going in with me!”

----

The VS store was huge, smelling sweetly of flowers, bright colors assaulting your vision, soft pop music filling your ears.

It was hard not to cringe at all the fancy lingerie, you were honestly a bit embarrassed to be strolling through the store with your friend, let alone her boyfriend by her side.

“Does-does Keigo mind?” You quietly asked your friend, out of earshot of her boyfriend, who was looking at perfumes, last time you checked.

“Not at all birdie, I’m used to clothes, any form, any shape.”

You whirled around, squeaking in surprise at Keigo, who had apparently finished with browsing the perfume. He was flashing you a 1000 watt grin, continuing with what he was saying. “I’m a model, practically every girl I’ve ever met I’ve seen in less than full underwear, it’s no big deal.”

“Oh…. Cool.” You offered, cheeks turning red again. You felt like such a blushing schoolgirl, turning red when faced with looking at bras and panties, flushing when a man got too close.

It was the nature of the store, you told yourself, that was making you so embarrassed.

“Oo! What do you think of this one?” Your friend was holding up a babydoll, pink, with light fabric and zero coverage.

Keigo wolf whistled. “Man, that’d be a good look for you. Lets buy it.” The couple moved on, pointing at different clothes, your friend occasionally picking one from the rack to hold up against her body, looking for Keigo’s opinion.

They were cute together, laughing over the cheesy names on the tags of the lingerie, holding hands as the browsed, your friend occasionally stopping to plant a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek.

“I think that’s everything that I like…. (Y/N), your turn!” Pulled out of your casual observance, you back pedaled. “Me? No, I’m not really the type to wear this kind of stuff - I don’t even think most of it would fit, I have weird proportions.“

“Nonsense!” Keigo looked around for a moment, going to the nearest rack to quickly sift through bras, before pulling one out. “This one would make all the boys drool over you honey.”

He held it out towards you, shaking it slightly when you hesitated to take it. Was your friend okay with him talking to you like that, pushing underwear at you to buy? A quick glance sideways showed she was more than okay with it, clasping her hands excitedly as she watched you.

The bra was sheer, soft lavender fabric forming the cups, an intricate embroidered detail of flowers dotted haphazardly over the bra. It was pretty, but you weren’t exactly partial to it. When would you wear it? Who would you wear it for? You weren’t sure it was your style. Plus, it probably wasn’t even your size.

“My arm’s gettin’ real tired.” Keigo joked, before you finally took the garment from him. Checking the size, you paused for a second, blinking towards the man.

“How did you-?”

“You spend enough time in the fashion industry, you learn to tell a girl’s size just by looking at her.” He seemed to puff up, as if he was proud of his bra-sizing skills.

“Let me help her pick out some things too!” Your friend cried, rushing past you to head over to the next rack, ushering you to follow with a wave of her hand.

You ended up with an armful of lingerie - bras, panties, an odd bustier or two, and some other flowy items, like a sheer robe and a lacy chemise. The choices weren’t exactly made by you, more so made by a combination of your friend and Keigo together. They had alternated holding up items towards your body, comparing color and garment cuts, lost in their own mushy-gushy world, and it was almost like you didn’t exist for a few moments, nothing more than a barbie doll to dress up.

But now the three of you stood in line to checkout, and you felt included again, your friend cracking jokes that were making you snort, Keigo watching the two of you interact.

Until your friend accidentally brushed against your arm as she shifted forward in line.

Again, you saw her tearful face, heard her sobbing, before the other scene flashed, of her on TV, talking to the reporter. She still looked upset, eyes rimmed red, nose running, hair a mess.

With a gasp, your vision returned to the present, and you were wobbling on your feet, almost falling.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry (Y/N), I’m so so sorry. Here, let me take that, go sit down by the entrance.” She fussed over you, face concerned as she carefully took the stack of clothes from your arms, making sure to not make contact.

“Oh fuck, is she alright?” You heard Keigo ask, your friend stepping in front of you as he moved forward to check on you.

“Yeah, she’s just feeling a little dizzy. Can you make sure she doesn’t fall and crack her head open? Just wait by the entrance please.”

“Okay. Oh, here-“ You were a bit dazed, but you saw Keigo fish his wallet out of his pocket, thrusting the entire thing into his girlfriends hands before patting her on the shoulder “Whichever card is fine.”

And then you were stumbling towards the entrance, towards the bench right outside.

You hated seeing the future. Why was your friend crying? What had happened to elicit such a reaction? The unknowns killed you, kept you up at night as you tried to puzzle out the events that could lead up to the scenes from your visions.

Not looking where you were going, you tripped on air, unable to catch yourself as you plummeted towards the ground.

But then you were seeing Keigo.

He was above you, face flushed and sweaty, hair tousled, his chest bare. The room was dark, barely lit, and he was so close. The man leaned down to kiss you, then the scene changed.

You were bent over a table, only able to see the solid wood your face was smushed against. There was a heat in your belly, a tingling between your thighs, and pressure. Someone was talking - Keigo, muttering behind you angrily. You head was pulled up, a hand fisted in your hair, and then one of your knees was pushed up onto the table, and the pressure inside exploded into pure pleasure.

You felt yourself screaming, bucking your hips as you suffered through whatever the feeling was.

The scene changed again.

Hands tied above your head, you were pressed against a wall, sitting on some kind of…. Saddle? Your legs couldn’t touch the ground, and you squirmed, before gasping loudly.

There was a nub in the seat, ribbed and textured, slick with some kind of liquid… From you? Then you saw Keigo, standing in front of you, smirking at you with hardened eyes.

He had something in his hand, arms crossed over his chest while he fiddled with the object, muscles flexing. He was shirtless again, and-and his cock was hanging out of his sweatpants, pressed against his belly, smearing precum over his skin.

You tried to say something, anything - the visions never lasted this long, it was too intense, there was so much sensation. But your mouth wouldn’t move, choked up.

Keigo’s hand was on his length, rubbing slowly, saying something that didn’t reach your ears.

The scene changed.

Something was shoved down your throat, warm and twitching. You were sobbing, choking, clawing at whatever was in front of you. A dark laugh filled your ears, and you opened your eyes, met with the clenching abs of a strong stomach.

Keigo was brushing your tears, no, smudging them over your face. Were you wearing makeup? His cock was sitting in your throat, his hips moving in tiny jerks, stabbing your esophagus, making you gag.

Then you were back in the present.

A hand was holding your arm, keeping you from falling and making contact with the hard floor.

“-N)? (Y/N)? Are you okay? Talk to me birdie”

You made a panicked noise, pulling yourself out of Keigo’s grip so fast that you fell flat on the floor, scrambling backwards away from the man.

He almost looked scared, confused as he followed after you, holding out his hands. “(Y/N), you gotta calm down, you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

The man reached for your arm again and you pressed yourself against the floor, screeching out a loud “No!!” before he could touch you. Keigo paused, looking at his hand, then at you. “Hey, hey, I’m not gonna touch you. It’s okay little birdie, you’re alright.” He cooed, sinking to his knees in front of you.

You were hyperventilating, wide eyes trained on Keigo. Your thoughts were swirling in your head, you couldn’t focus, the sensations of the future still echoing through your body.

Keigo crouched there while you steadied your breathing, talking to you the entire time, trying to help you relax and calm down. You weren’t sure what he was saying, something about the weather? Or a dog? But you could feel your breathing evening out, head clearing.

“Hey, she fall?” You friend was carrying two bags, crouching down beside Keigo, cocking her head at you.

Her boyfriend nodded, turning to her and taking one of the bags. “I caught her, but then she freaked out and fell for real.”

Your friend nodded. “I should’ve told you earlier, she has a touch-based quirk. Every time someone touches her, she sees snippets of her future with that person.”

Keigo cocked his own head, gazing at you curiously. “I guess her future with me isn’t too positive then?”

Your friend shrugged. “Eh, she just hates seeing parts of the future. She doesn’t want to know what’s going to happen, makes her worry or something like that. Don’t take it too personally, she’s like that with everyone.”

“It-it-“ you rasped out, causing both sets of eyes to swivel towards you. “-I hate it... because-‘cause I can’t ever cha-change it.” You shivered.

Keigo nodded in understanding, before rising to his feet. “Think you can walk to my car? I’ll drive you two home, I think you’d benefit from some rest.”

He dropped you off at your apartment, and you wearily waved at the couple as they drove off, before heading inside.

----

A week passed, then two.

The visions you had concerning Keigo were plaguing your mind, filling your body with anxiety. There had been a distinctive feel of fear during each one, and despite all the other various sensations felt, the most overwhelming had been distress.

Whatever was going to happen, you weren’t going to like it.

You were holing up in your apartment, ignoring your roommates when they knocked on your door, only leaving your room to eat or grab water. You couldn’t sleep, too scared you’d have dreams, or more accurately, nightmares of what you had seen.

Curse your quirk.

Trying to pass time, desperate to keep your mind off of the future, you threw yourself into any activity you could find.

First you tried coloring - it was supposed to be relaxing, but it gave you too much time to think.

Then you tried gaming, spending hours in front of your computer mashing the keys. That worked for a bit, but your eyes and head soon protested.

You listened to music at full volume, tried several workout videos, even resorted to cleaning your space with fervent energy.

None of it took your mind off the inevitable.

“(Y/N), someone’s at the door asking for you.” You jerked awake, slumped over uncomfortably on the floor, the half finished card tower in front of you promptly knocked over at your erratic movements.

“(Y/N)?” Your roommate called again.

“Yeah! Coming, sorry.” You mumbled, scrubbing sleep from your eyes. You guess your body would give out sometime and force you to fall asleep, but as you moved to stand, you sorely wished your body had chosen a more comfortable place to pass out.

Opening the front door, you immediately took a cautious step back, sleepy demeanor vanishing.

Keigo smiled at you, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other holding a bouquet of flowers.

Flowers?

“Hey birdie, mind if I come in?”

You stared at him for a second, immediately on guard. Why did he have flowers? Why did he want to come in? Wasn’t he dating your friend? She didn’t live here, what was he doing here?

The man cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at you. You moved to the side, holding open the door for Keigo to come inside.

Your roommates were home. If anything happened, they would be within earshot.

Keigo shot you a smile and a thanks, before immediately moving into the small living room, taking a seat on the couch. When he saw you still hovering by the open door, he patted the cushion beside him.

“Come sit, I promise I don’t bite.” He thought for a moment, before grinning. “Well, not unless you want me to.”

Hesitantly, you shut the front door, going to sit in a ratty armchair further away from the winged man. If this bothered him, the man didn’t let it show other than a short pause before he spoke.

“So, I know it probably seems like, super weird for me to show up at your apartment, but hear me out.”

Flowers were shoved in your lap, Keigo taking great care to avoid touching you. “I felt bad about the other day, and my girl and I decided that we should get you some flowers. She picked ‘em out, it even says so on the note.” The man laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s so uptight about this kinda stuff. Anyways, just wanted to say that I’m sorry for grabbing you like that. If I had known, I would’ve let you fall flat on your ass. But I know now, so I’ll be better, cool with you?”

Finishing his little speech, Keigo held out his hands, wings stretching behind him to mimic the gesture.

Looking at the flowers in your lap, you felt your hands shaking. Picking up the little note attached to the bouquet, you found that your friend had indeed picked out the flowers, which made sense. They were your favorites, and in a nice color too. Keigo had left a messy, scrawled “Sorry!” in one corner, before signing by his girlfriends name.

“Um, thank you Keigo, you didn’t have to apologize.” You murmured, rubbing one of the flower petals between your fingers. You were so glad your quirk extended solely to humans - if you were shown glimpses of the future of everything you touched, you would most likely go mad.

“Nah, I wanted to. Also wanted to swing by, check how you’re doing. You been taking care of yourself?” He relaxed on the couch, legs spread, arms resting behind his head. This wasn’t his home, yet you totally could believe that it was by the ease with which he owned the space with his presence.

“Oh, well… I’m still here, so…” You shrugged.

Keigo frowned. “That’s not a fun answer. How much sleep you been gettin’ each night? Eight hours?”

You shook your head, huffing out a breath in place of a laugh.

Keigo clicked his tongue. “No sleep? That’s bad for you y’know. Have you at least been drinking water? Eatin’?”

You nodded quickly, looking up to meet the man’s gaze. “I’m not a kid. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary.”

At this point, you think the best thing for your health would be for the man to leave.

The blonde man stared at you for a moment, before sighing. “Alright, I get it. But I don’t want to hear that you’ve passed out or something, got it? Your friend would kill me.”

He rose to his feet, and so did you, walking him to the door. “Thanks Keigo, and thank you again for the flowers. That was very sweet of you both.”

Keigo beamed, giving a two fingered salute. “You deserve it birdie. Well, have a good rest of your day, yeah? Eat something.”

You smiled, at Keigo as he turned away, beginning to whistle as he strolled down the hall.

Once the door was shut, you found a vase for the flowers, filling it with water and setting it on the table. Your roommates would think it was pretty, and it was, a nice little centerpiece.

That really was nice of your friend and Keigo to offer you flowers.

——

“Welcome to Gold Nile Jewelers, how can I-“ You blinked at the man entering the shop. “-Keigo.”

“Birdie? You work here?” He looked just as confused as you felt, cocking his head to the side as he approached the counter.

You looked around the small display room, nodding your head. “Yep… You looking for anything specific today?”

“Ah, right!” He clasped his hands together, bending over to lean on the display counter as he looked up at you. “So professional (Y/N), it’s just me.” The man chuckled.

“Actually, I thought I’d get my girl a cute little bracelet or something like that, you think she’d like that?”

Knowing your friend, she’d be ecstactic. “Oh, absolutely. Any particular occasion, or just an “I love you gift”?” You asked, already running through the list of bracelets in stock.

“It’s our two month anniversary in another week, thought I’d get her a little sumn’ sumn’, y’know?”

Gold Nile Jewelers was an expensive store. You patted yourself on the back for not dropping your jaw when he said “two month anniversary”. People came here for wedding rings and special occasion jewelry, not monthly anniversaries like some high schoolers.

Well, unless they were rich.

You showed Keigo the selection of bracelets currently available, the man listening quietly to your product descriptions and recommendations, asking questions about the fit and feel, and if you think your friend would like a particular one.

“Honestly Keigo, I could choose one I think she’d like, but it’d be more special if you chose for her.” You finally told him. He wasn’t annoying you, but you felt frustrated with his apparent lack of knowledge about his girlfriend. How did he not know what her favorite color was? “I’d suggest coming back in a few days. Go home, see what kind of jewelry she wears, pay attention to the colors she gravitates towards, if she’s allergic to any metals.”

Keigo tapped his chin. “Hmm, you have a good point. I guess I should pay more attention to those kinds of things.”

You nodded as you began to pack the expensive bracelets back into their display cases. “Gifts for a significant other can be hard. Honestly, it means a lot if they pick it out themselves and surprise you with it. Makes it special.”

“Oh, you have a partner?” Keigo asked, bright eyes watching your hands work.

A frown almost crossed your features, but you stopped it before it could show. “Ah, sorry, that’s not really a work-appropriate question.”

“Awh, c’mon! It’s just me, we’re friends, can’t you tell me?” Keigo pouted, batting his eyelashes at you in an exaggerated, dramatic fashion. The display made you laugh, so you indulged him. After all, he was a friend. No harm in telling him something he was bond to know sooner or later.

“I’m actually single right now. But as a jeweler sale associate, I know how much it means to a person when their partner picks out a gift for them, especially if it’s a surprise.”

Keigo nodded his head solemnly. “That makes sense. I better follow your advice then eh? Find out what she likes-“ he mused “-I can do that.”

“Good luck Keigo!” You called after him as he strolled through the door, waving when he smiled at you, giving that same, goofy two fingered salute that he always did when saying goodbye.

The man unnerved you, the visions you had experienced concerning him making you worry. But as long as he was dating your friend, you felt that you’d be fine.

-----

Keigo showed up again two days later.

“Back so soon?”

“You know me-“ He shook out his umbrella, placing it in the drip-bin by the door, wiping his shoes on the mat. “I always try to be speedy with my work.”

It was grey outside, drizzling slightly. You loved these kinds of days, where you could sit near a window and watch it rain while sipping tea. It was so peaceful and calm, and always soothed your stress.

“Find out anything useful?” Whatever he could tell you would make it easier to refine the jewelry selection for his particular needs.

“So, she doesn’t have any bracelets, and I asked her about why and she said they annoy her. She likes necklaces.” He clarified,. You could tell by the way he puffed up that he felt proud of his detective skills. “I even made a note of the lengths - she likes ones that dip low, which-“ He wolf whistled, and your stomach turned. But it was fine, just awkward.

“Alright, I think we have quite a few like that. Let me collect them for you and lay them out.”

Keigo strolled around the display room while you bustled about, looking in each case at the shiny metals and stones

You laid out the necklaces, calling Keigo over. The man smiled brightly at you as you showed him the selection, noticing he was gravitating towards the more simply, elegant choices.

“I’m sure she would be thrilled with any of these.” You offered, Keigo silent as he tried to decide between two necklaces.

Still, the man shook his head, quirking his lips. “I just…. I need to see them on, y’know?” Then he brightened, as if he had just thought of something. “Hey, can you try them on? Model one for me? Just to see what it’d look like.”

You laughed nervously. “Sorry Keigo, but I’m not allowed to do that, it’s against company policy. Only customers get to try on the jewelry, and that’s if they’re supervised.”

“Awh, c’mon! No one else is here, and I won’t tell.” The man leaned forward, shooting you a quick wink before he snatched up one of the necklaces, holding it out towards you. “Please? I just need to see it. I promise I’ll buy it.”

He was so insistent, and no matter how loud the alarm bells were wringing in your head, you felt cowed by his confidence.

“Um, still… I don’t think it’s allowed-“

“Fuck what’s allowed-“ He cut you off, snorting. “-I want to see what it looks like. It’s just me (Y/N), I’m not gonna snitch.”

A heavy sigh, and you finally agreed, taking the necklace from his nimble fingers. You slung it around your neck, not fastening the back as you held it in place. Hopefully that would be enough to sate Keigo’s curiosity.

His eyes immediately followed the curve of the necklace, how it dipped low towards your cleavage (curse you for wearing a lower-cut shirt today). You tried to ignore the leering.

“Here, let me help you fasten it, doesn’t look right otherwise.”

Before you could protest, he was sliding behind you, deft hands reaching for the necklace your had in your grasp.

“Keigo no-!”

But it was too late.

You were pressed up against a wall, face-first, your hands gathered into the small of your back and held there with a vice-like grip. There was pressure between your legs, something hammering into you, in and out, in and out, in and out.

Keigo was talking to you, you could tell it was the man by his voice. What was he saying? You were too overwhelmed with the sensation between your legs to focus on the words falling from his lips.

Sweat dripped from your temples, Keigo’s chest pressed up against your back was slick with perspiration, his nipples hard and pressing into your skin. It was an uncomfortable situation-

And then it changed.

You were tied up now, tight enough that you couldn’t move no matter how you thrashed. Knees bound in such a way so your ass was up in the air, arms stretched out in front of you, anchored to the headboard of the bed.

Keigo was behind you again - nothing to indicate that the tongue running through your core was his, but somehow, you knew.

You were begging and pleading, withing in your restraints against his tongue, but he wouldn’t let up, he wouldn’t let you crest the mountain that had built up inside. He kept chuckling, the vibrations running through you and making you buck your hips. You felt disgusting.

Then the bed was gone, and Keigo was in front of you. He was sitting in an office chair, your legs straddling his lap. Hands on your hips were dragging you back and forth, grinding you on the hard member protruding from Keigo’s lap. He was flushed, letting out little moans as he kept eye contact with you, smiling and praising you.

Then you were back.

Gasping, you shot away from Keigo, the expensive necklace clattering to the ground as it fell from your hands.

The man froze, confusion etched across his features as he watched you bend over, trying to catch your breath, to calm down, to ignore the lingering sensations from the futuristic visions.

“(Y/N)…”

“I think-I think you should leave.” You heaved, tears building. That had been awful, everything had felt good but you hadn’t. You felt uncomfortable and disrespected and stupid. That couldn’t be your future with Keigo, you wouldn’t be able to handle that. He was your friend’s boyfriend, for goodness sake!

Keigo opened his mouth to say something, but you snapped at him “Leave.”, making the man click his jaw shut.

He walked out the door, shooting you concerned glances the entire way.

You felt better as soon as he was gone, the door clicking shut after him. Thankfully, you were the only employee out front at the moment, and no other customers were present, so no one but you and Keigo had experienced your outburst.

Bending down to pick up the necklace, you inspected it carefully, horrified that you had dropped such an expensive item. It was alright though, so you brought it back to the others, shakily beginning to gather them up to put away.

You didn’t want to see Keigo again.

——-

“I just don’t understand!”

Your friend sobbed, surrounded by tissues on your bed, eyes red and blotchy. You wished you could rub her back, our give her a hug, but you knew what would happen. So you stayed on the floor, passing up tissues and offering wordless sympathy.

“Why would he break up with me? Why?”

You shrugged, looking for words. “I don’t know… I’m sorry that this happened, but if he can’t see how awesome you are, then he’s an idiot.”

She sniffed, blowing her nose. You could tell she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t say anything further, instead choosing to wipe her eyes.

She had called an hour or so ago, tearful, asking if she could come over. Refused to tell you what was wrong, but the second you let her in, she had burst into tears, explaining everything.

Keigo had broken up with her via text, that asshole.

“I just…. I thought we were good. Did I do something wrong? I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I. You said he just texted you out of the blue?”

She nodded her head, going to blow her nose again. “We were supposed to go out for dinner tomorrow, it’s our two month anniversary.”

You cringed. Did your encounter with Keigo in the jewelry store have something to do with this? Had you driven your friend’s boyfriend away? Had you weirded him out? Oh god, what if this was all your fault?

Your friend broke down into a sob again, slumping onto your bed. You passed her another tissue. “It’ll be okay. I think he’s a stupid fucker that just wanted to play with your heart. He isn’t worth shit. You deserve so much better than him.”

She nodded, blotchy eyes seeking out your own. In the back of your mind, you cringed, seeing the exact same scene from your vision. Well, at least the two of you hadn’t gotten in a fight.

——-

A few weeks later, Keigo was at your door.

“You need to leave. Now.”

“Aw, c’mon (Y/N), at least hear me out?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Maybe he had a dumb explanation for why he had dumped your friend. You were wary of him accidentally touching you again though. “Fine, but make it quick.”

“No promises.” He grinned, breezing past you and into your apartment. He beelined for the chair you had sat in last time he was here, leaving you to take a seat on the couch.

“Alright-“ He settled in, fixing you with a gleeful eye. “How do you feel about your quirk?”

Caught off guard, you blinked. Wasn’t he going to explain why he had broken your friend’s heart? “Um, what?”

“Your quirk, y’know, the one that makes you see the future?” He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together with a smile. He seemed far too pleased, and it made you nervous.

“I hate it. If I could get rid of it, I would.” You stated, ready to move onto a different topic. But just as you were about to ask him about your friend, he rose to his feet, fishing in his pockets.

He drew out a bracelet, black and red, thin. “Well then, lookie what I have.” The man walked over, sitting down quickly on the couch next to you, causing you to immediately scoot to the end. You didn’t want him touching you.

“Oh, sorry.” He apologized upon noticing your unease. Instead of scooting closer, he simply tossed the bracelet onto your lap, leaning back as he watched you look at it curiously. “Put it on, see how it fits.”

“I don’t need jewelry Keigo, and I think we should be spending our time discussing why you bro-“

“Just put it on (Y/N), please? I promise you won’t regret it.”

Huffing, you did as he asked, clasping the bracelet around your wrist. It fit snug, almost too tight, but it hugged your wrist comfortingly. It was pretty, but you didn’t see what this had to do with your quirk, or with your friend, or anything that held any relevancy.

Bracelet now on, you fixed Keigo with a blank stare. “Happy?”

“I don’t know.” Keigo grinned. “Are you?” And then he was hugging you, arms wrapped around your shoulders, face buried in your neck.

You shrieked, already panicking as you tried to ready yourself for the onslaught of visions that accompanied physical touch.

They never came.

Choking back a surprised gasp, you drew back from his hug to find Keigo’s eyes, the man smiling down at you as he watched your reaction.

“Kei-Keigo…” You stuttered, shocked, surprised, euphoric, confused - so many emotions, all at once. You couldn’t even think to brush off the hands still around your shoulders, thumbs brushing at the tops of your exposed collarbones by the neck of your shirt.

You weren’t able to think rationally, couldn’t focus on anything but the awe you felt at being touched without being slammed with visions of the future.

You forgot about the terrifying visions you had gotten when Keigo touched you.

You forgot about how he had hurt your friend, broke her heart with no explanation.

You forgot about his hands refusing to leave your body.

“Keigo, this is…. Amazing” You breathed, wide eyes snapping up, catching his smiling face, eyes crinkly and twinkly.

“I had my team modify some quirk-cancelling cuffs! You seemed so upset whenever someone touched you, I couldn’t leave you with such a burden.”

Nodding, you returned your gaze to the bracelet, turning your wrist this way and that to look at the bracelet from different angles.

“I mean, I know how much I like being touched, and touching. I think I’d totally die if I couldn’t.” Keigo chuckled, but you weren’t listening.

The rest of his time sitting next to you on the couch was spent explaining the colors he had spent so long picking (“They’re my personal favorite, aren’t they nice?”) and why he had decided on a bracelet (“It could’ve been a necklace, but I think it looks better in it’s original cuff design, looks cooler that way.”).

By the time he had to leave, you were completely sidetracked, so distracted with your shiny new jewelry that you didn’t even remember to ask what his deal was with being a jerk to your friend, his now ex-girlfriend.

-----

“-and then he gave me the bracelet. I wasn’t thinking much after that, I just… I can hug you, isn’t that incredible?”

You gave your friend another squeeze, feeling a smile dance across your face. But then you sobered, pulling back from her with your hands on her shoulders, quickly becoming serious.

“But he’s really starting to kind of weird me out. Why won’t he explain why he broke up with you? He’s being a little bitch. I tried asking him a couple times, but he kept cutting me off, and I feel like the bracelet was a distraction to stop me from busting his chops about his behavior towards you.”

Your friend looked sad for a second, before shrugging. “I dunno, he just said things weren’t working out, and that while he liked me, he’s not ready for a relationship right now ‘cause of where he’s at in his life.”

“Psh-“ You scoffed, going in for another comforting squeeze for your friend. “-that’s code for “I’m a fuckboy and want to sleep around”.”

“I know….. But it still hurts.” You friend sighed, wrapping her arms around your neck. “But at least he gave you that quirk thing. I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“I just wish he was a mildly decent person.” You grumbled, detaching from the hug to sit back, glaring at the ceiling. “He gives me the fucking creeps.”

“How so?” You friend locked her head to the side, throwing her arm over the back of the couch. You had called her over the second Keigo had left, finally gathering your wits about you.

“I dunno…” You shrugged, not quite ready to tell her about the disturbing visions containing him. Did that have something to do with their breakup? Was it your fault? What was going to happen with Keigo? It honestly scared you, the residual feelings and sensations you could remember from the visions.

Your friend nodded understandingly. “Some people just give off those vibes. Well, at least we don’t ever have to see him again. Good riddance I say.”

You agreed.

——-

Knocking on the door, you shuffled your feet as you took in the house.

It was one of those rich places - nice neighborhood, fancy street filled with lavish houses, expensive cars. You felt slightly out of place, shifting from foot to foot in your clearance-rack clothes.

The door swung open, revealing a sleepy Keigo, shirtless, clad in nothing but sweatpants.

“Oh, um-“ You quickly turned, averting your eyes, trying to give the man privacy in case he hadn’t realized he was shirtless. It looked like he had just woken up from a nap, eyes blinking owlishly, hair mussed.

“Hey (Y/N), come on in.”

Still keeping your eyes turned away, you stepped inside the opulent house, trying not to gape too much at the decor inside. You didn’t want to look like a complete peasant in front of Keigo, but he’d already been to your house, so you could imagine that he knew of your poor-ness.

“Something wrong? You can look at me y’know, I’m not gonna turn you to stone or something.” Keigo joked, voice entirely too close for comfort.

Head whipping around, you found that he was too close, practically almost touching you as he stood beside you, head cocked as he watched you.

“No… nothings wrong, you’re just…” You gestured to his torso, and Keigo looked down in confusion, before looking back at you, a grin on his face.

“Ah, just woke up.” He shrugged, before reaching out to touch your arm. “Bracelet still keeping that quirk at bay?”

You nodding, following the blonde as he turned and walked further into his house, towards the kitchen.

“Glad to hear! I just wanted to look at it a bit, make sure nothing’s worn or torn, y’know? Hate for you to have to deal with the no-touching thing again.” He said over his shoulder, gesturing for you to sit down at the island, on one of the barstools.

You did so, watching the man open his fridge, take out a carton of milk, uncap it. “Is it too tight?”

“Nope.”

He drank right out of the bottle, and you watched some dribble out of the corner of his mouth, down his chin. The man finished gulping down the milk, taking the bottle away from his lips to swipe at the white trail of liquid rolling down his chin.

Eyes dark, he made contact with your own eyes as he cleaned his chin with a finger, stuffing it in his mouth to suck it clean.

That was gross.

The next second, he was back to normal, cheerfully putting the milk back into the fridge. “Good, good. Now, mind if I take a look at it? You should keep it on though.”

You nodded, and Keigo straightened, walking around the island to sit next to you, shuffling his stool closer.

He grabbed your wrist, laying it out on the island, before beginning to poke at the bracelet, running his fingers over it, fiddling with it, squeezing the tendons in your hand, smoothing his hand up your arm.

It felt a bit intrusive.

“So the visions are all blocked?”

“Yep.”

“And you can touch and be touched?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s your appetite? Sometimes complete quirk suppression can make you lose your appetite.”

“It’s been normal, I guess I’m a little hungrier than normal, but I’ve been getting out more too, not as afraid of crowds.”

“Nice! And how about your libido?”

You spluttered, choking on your own spit, snatching your hand away from Keigo’s wandering touches.

“Excuse me? That’s a bit personal, thanks.”

Keigo shrugged, bright eyes hooded and lazy. “It’s just a question.”

“Are you done making sure it’s all good? No broken parts?” You changed the subject, narrowing your eyes. You can’t believe your friend had ever dated him, that you had ever thought he was anything but a playboy.

You wouldn’t even be here, in his house, but he had come into the jewelers a while back (both you and your friend had blocked his number), spouting something about your bracelet needing constant checks and maintenance in order to keep suppressing your quirk. (“Wouldn’t want it to stop working, right? Just stop by sometimes, here’s my address.”).

So here you were.

Keigo leaned back a little, raising an eyebrow at your irritated tone of voice. “Woah there, don’t get snippy. I’m doing you a favor, right? I’m not trying to hurt you or something.”

Technically, you guess he was right. But he had played your friend, had fucked with her feelings. He was a fuckboy, liked messing with each and every girl he could find, and you didn’t care to be one of them.

“And I appreciate that Keigo. But I like to keep my private life private.”

Keigo was silent, simply holding out a hand for you to place your arm in, so he could fiddle more with the bracelet.

Several moments of awkward silence passed before he spoke again. “You’re being awfully ungrateful. It makes me think you don’t even want this little gift. If I were you, I’d be doing everything I could to show the person kind enough to do such a thing for me how thankful I was.”

Lost for words, you stared at the man. Was he expecting some sort of award? Some sort of prize? It’s not like you had anything to give him.

“I don’t have anything to give you in thanks. Just my words, which I’ve said plenty of. I didn’t ask you to make this for me.” You pointed out.

“Sure, but you use it, don’t you? You wouldn’t like it if I took it away, right? Think about how miserable your life was before I gave you this.”

Your life had been miserable. Afraid to go out in crowds, afraid to leave the house, Nervous about grocery shopping, about paying and having the cashier touch your hand as they handed over the change.

Scared of public transportation, of coffeeshops and bookstores, of public parks, even your own home. What if one of your roommates forgot and touched you? Or accidentally bumped into you?

Plus, you could hug now, and shake hands, and slap your friends back when she told a horrible joke, or tap her when you wanted her attention.

You didn’t want to go back to before. “I’m sorry Keigo… I really do think it’s lovely, and I can never thank you enough for doing this for me.”

Keigo let go of your arm, and it swung back to your side. You could feel the man looking at you.

“You know what would let me know that you mean it?”

God, it better not be something sexual.

“You could buy me coffee. Or maybe a cookie from that bakery on 1st Avenue, you know the one? With the little bunny pastries?”

That surprised you.

“You go there? That’s my favorite place.” You mused, looking at Keigo in surprise. He didn’t seem the kind of guy who’d like a place like that. But appearances could be deceiving.

“Of course! I really like their stuff.”

“Alright,” You conceded, rising to your feet. “I’ll get you some stuff from there. Want it today?”

Keigo rose to his feet as well, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Yeah! Let me get dressed real quick, and then I’ll go with you. Don’t go anywhere birdie.” He shot you a wink, before sauntering past you, out of the kitchen. You raised a brow, surprised. He meant to go with you?

“Make yourself at home while you wait, don’t be afraid to kick up your feet!”

——-

The bakery smelled as lovely as usual.

A warm atmosphere, good food, friendly employees. It was your favorite place for a reason.

“Alright, what do you want?” You asked Keigo, the two of you staring up at the menu.

“Hmm, I don’t know. What are you going to get?”

“Probably a muffin, those are my favorite.”

“What!?! That’s my favorite too! How crazy.” Keigo smiled at you, dimples showing. You got the feeling that he was brown-nosing you, but you kept the thought to yourself, striding up to the counter to order.

Muffins purchased, you approached Keigo, who was lounging by one of the display cases, admiring the delicate, mouthwatering masterpieces held within.

“All good to go?” His smile was so charming, so friendly, you almost caught yourself wanting to see it more. Huffing in irritation at yourself, you pushed past him, shoving the bag with his muffin into his chest.

“Here’s your stuff. I’m going home now, see you around.”

“Wait!” Keigo turned, jogging a little to catch up as you exited the bakery. “We gotta eat these before they get cold - hey, birdie, are you listening to me?“

You weren’t, stoically keeping your head turned forward, walking with determination. There was only so much of Keigo that you could tolerate, and you had reached your limit. He was starting to really annoy you, didn’t he get that you wanted to go home? You’ll just eat your muffin on the subway, it’s not that hard.

“(Y/N)-“ His sudden growl was punctuated by an arm on your shoulder, spinning you around and pulling you towards the man.

“Hey-!” The sudden collision of your face with his chest knocked your breath away, almost causing you to drop your own muffin in the process.

When you managed to gather yourself, you shot a glare up at Keigo’s face, only to find the blonde smirking down at you, a fierce glint in his eyes.

“I expect you to listen when I’m talking, got it? I don’t like being ignored.”

That’s evident.

You tried to back away, but he still had a hand on your shoulder, squeezing you tight to him. “Keigo! Let me go, you stupid idiot-“

“Stop it, I’m not doing anything to you, ya big baby.” He cooed down at you, before taking his hand away, letting you stumble backwards.

He was just messing with you, teasing you. It was obvious, yet still you allowed him to be around you.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I know all the touching’s gotta be new still. Wanna go eat these in the park? I’ll buy you some ice cream if you want.”

“I don’t want ice cream, I want to go home.”

Keigo frowned, walking after you when you turned on your heel, heading for the subway. “Why do you dislike me so much? I’ve done so much to help you, and yet you spit in my face. Your parents ever teach you how to be grateful? Or even respectful?”

You gasped at his accusation, stopping in your tracks to whirl around, only to find the man far closer than what you had expected. Still, you tried to hide your surprise at his proximity, jabbing a finger in his direction.

“You are a playboy, you broke my friend’s heart, and you want to sleep with every single person you come across just to mess with their feelings. I don’t want to be around you. I won’t get dragged into that.”

The man watched you, face solemn and contemplative. “Is that really how you see me?”

“Why would I say any of that unless it was true?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking up and around, as if gathering his bearings, before back down at you.

“Have you ever considered that I’m the one getting my heart broken?”

“Yeah right-“ You scoffed, only for Keigo to cut you off.

“People want to sleep with me because they think it’ll get them something that they want. Fifteen second fame, a piece in a tabloid about my “new lover”…. Think it’ll help them further their career, or that I’ll give them money. I can’t find anyone real.

“And my friend wasn’t real enough for you?” You spat, not believing him for a second.

“Nope. You think she liked me for who I am?”

“Uh, yeah? She gushed to me all the damn time about how good you were, how she felt about you. That girl held nothing but love and affection for you.”

The man snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure, love for my wallet.”

“She’s not like that.” You argued, brows furrowing.

“Really? Cause she was sucking me dry, and not even in a sexy way.”

You crinkled your nose at what he was implying. Your friend wasn’t like that, she truly had felt for Keigo, had liked him as her boyfriend. She wasn’t just a leech.

“I’m done talking about my failed love life.” Keigo said lowly, nudging your shoulder. “I just thought two friends could hangout, but it seems like you think all I do is try and fuck people.”

“No, Kiego…. That’s not what I meant.” Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but right now…. You almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

Some of what he was saying made sense, how people would try and use him for various reasons. But that still didn’t explain his sudden and harsh breakup with your friend. And over text no less, a complete douche move!

But you felt bad about his words, about how he seemed to actually want to hangout, and yet you were accusing him of trying to sleep with you. But what about those visions you had had? Was that even how they went? Or were you remembering falsely based on your bias towards the man?

And what about his suggestive touches, his leering gaze? Was that maybe just how he always was, and it wasn’t exclusive to you? Were you inflating your place in his life, thinking that he wanted you?

It was confusing, and you didn’t want to think about it, try and untangle the lies from the truth. Right now, you just wanted to eat your muffin.

“If you really didn’t mean it, then can we go eat these in the park? I just want to chill with someone that isn’t trying to gain something from me. I want to spend time with someone that’s real.”

With a half-irritated sigh, you nodded, hoping you wouldn’t regret hanging out with the obnoxious man.

-----

He kept calling you, texting you. You’d had to unblock his number at some point, in order for him to text you about the bracelet and when he needed to look at it.

“Come overrrrr, I’m bored!”

“Birdie, are you hungry? The delivery place gave me extra Torikatsu and I don’t want it to go bad. Can I come drop it off?”

He’d swing by the jewelers, leaning over the counter to talk to you about a recent shoot he’d booked, or something he saw recently.

Keigo seemed to slowly insert himself into every facet of your live, against your will, ignoring every subtle, irritated attempt of yours to turn him away. Every single time you saw him, your mind would inevitably think of the visions, but you felt like you couldn’t trust yourself with those anymore.

The man assured you at every step, he had no romantic feelings for you, he just wanted a friend, someone to put him in his place, be honest with him.

You definitely were honest.

Snapping at him when he showed up at your apartment uninvited, coming up behind you on the street and grabbing your sides, laughing when you shrieked and tried to hit your attacker, only to realize it was Keigo.

Tearing into him when he tried to talk badly about your friend - she had been having less and less contact with you, and you couldn’t figure out why. Now your relationship with her was reduced to curt text messages. Maybe she was just going through a hard time, and wanted alone time? Still, you let her know you were there for her, whenever she needed.

You were honest when Keigo asked your opinion on food, TV shows, clothes, movies. It was almost satisfying saying something sucked, just to see Keigo’s face fall slightly, before he shook his head, whining.

“Then help me pick something out! I can’t do it without you-“

He totally could, he was just being a baby.

The more he inserted himself into your life, the more you realized that he was akin to a petulant child, just with muscles and a penchant for inappropriate touching.

Whenever he saw you, he’d try to draw you into a hug, letting his hands drop far down your back, way too low for you to feel comfortable. You’d slap them away, and Keigo would laugh, before ruffling your hair.

He’d have you come over so he could check your quirk suppressor, except he was in the middle of a show, and it was getting to the best part. (“Sit down, shhh, it’s just getting good!”) You’d have to sit through the entire thing, enduring Kiego’s hand lazily drawing shapes over your pants on your thigh, simply putting it back whenever you shoved it off.

He was insufferable, irritating to no end, but you could tell he was a lonely man, bitter about his love life and with his friendships.

So you tolerated his presence.

After all, he wasn’t trying to hurt you. That’s something he reiterated every single time you shied away from his touch. He made you feel like a fool for thinking the man was hitting on you, when he made it so clear that he wasn’t, only interested in friendship.

Until you fell asleep at his house.

Another one of those days were he needed to look at your quirk suppressor (which you were 99% sure was fine, it seemed like he just enjoyed seeing it on your wrist). He had been rummaging around in his room before he had to run and open the front door for you, talking as he walked back to return to his previous task.

Apparently he was trying to find a good shirt, seeing as how he had pants on, but his chest was bare. Keigo instructed you to sit on the bed for a second while he retreated into his massive closet, trying to find a good shirt to go with the rest of his outfit.

His bedroom was pretty large, a full California King taking up the majority of the space, neatly made. The sheets and blankets felt soft beneath your fingers as you sat on it’s edge, prepared to wait for Keigo for a bit.

The man always took his fashion very seriously - one time he’d even spent two hours trying on clothes until he’d decided on an appropriate outfit to go to the park.

So you followed your tired eyes, exhausted from work and dealing with Keigo, worrying about your friend, daily life stressors and the like. Keigo wouldn’t mind if you laid back, right? Your feet wouldn’t be on the bed, so it’d be fine.

And it was fine, pleasant, the room the perfect temperature.

You were roughly jerked out of sleep by pressure. Pressure on your hips, pressure on your lips.

Eyes jolting open, you tried to inhale, only to find yourself unsuccessful.

Keigo was on top of you.

Panicking, your hands came to push at him, a muffled sound of protest being squeaked out from where his lips pressed against yours.

Noticing you were awake, Keigo pulled back, smiling the whole while.

“I’m not willing to wait anymore, I just gotta have you.”

His eyes were glinting, hair tousled, still shirtless. You felt goosebumps arise as you remembered the vision you had so long ago, of this exact moment.

“Wai-mmph!” His lips were on yours again, passionate and warm, moving eagerly. A wet tongue pressed at the seam of your mouth, surprising you and making you blanch, which allowed the man access.

Kiego’s tongue explored the inside of your mouth, playfully tapping your own wet muscle, encouraging you to lift it and wrestle with him.

This was too weird, this wasn’t happening, you couldn’t do this-

Biting down hard, you snapped your teeth shut on his tongue, and Keigo yelped, drawing back immediately.

“Ouch, what the fuck!?! Chill out (Y/N), geez.” His hand was dabbing at his mouth, wincing when it came in contact with his bleeding tongue. You had bitten him deep, but you weren’t focused on that right now.

“What are-what are you doing?” Your voice was breathless, disoriented. The room felt…. Dark, and suffocating, as if it was closing in on the two of you, trapping you.

Keigo looked down at you, and it was only then that you realized you had been moved to lie on the bed fully, shoes off, legs splayed. The man rested on his stomach between them, his weight pressed against your body, keeping you still.

“I told you, I can’t wait anymore. I’ve been as nice as I can, but it’s time you started paying me back for everything I’ve done for you.”

What? Paying him back-was he talking about the quirk suppressor he had gifted you? Had he been lying about his true intentions this whole time?

“That’s not right, it was a gift, you-you don’t have to pay back a gift.” You spluttered, feeling as if your chest was collapsing.

Keigo shook his head, swooping down to leave a bloody kiss on your forehead, which you cringed at, before pulling back to speak.

“Nah, it wasn’t a gift. You know how expensive it was? You were always gonna have to compensate me. Now shush, I wanna feel you-“

One of his hands grabbed your jaw, keeping your face turned towards his, pressing down until tears formed in your eyes. His lips were bloody from the bite on his tongue, tasting unmistakably like iron.

You didn’t want this.

Trying to bite him again left you with a slap to your thigh, making you cry out. Keigo huffed out a laugh against your mouth.

He detached from your lips, just to start nibbling at your jawline, elating streaks of red where his lips touched.

“God, you are so sexy. I was trying to chill, but then I came out and you were sleepin’ all cute, and I couldn’t fucking stop myself from touching.”

“Stop doing this, I can pay you with something different. I don’t wanna do this Keigo.” You whispered, on the verge of crying.

“No, I get to decide what you’ll be doing for me, it’s my bracelet-“

“It’s not, you gave it to me, please stop-“

“Shut up.” He growled sinking his teeth into the side of your neck, nipping at the skin hard enough to have you screaming. “You’re so ungrateful, where’s my thanks? I’ve done so much for you.”

“Thank you, thank you Keigo, I appreciate it all-“ You hurried out, hoping it was what he wanted to hear “But I can’t do this, please don’t make me. I wanna go home.”

“There we go, I like the sound of you thanking me. You’re going to thank me for each and every time you cum tonight, got it?”

“No, no, we can’t do this, I can’t! Get off of me, please-“

“You’ll do it, or else I’ll whip you until your flesh hangs off of you in strings.” He hissed, squeezing your jaw cruelly.

The tears in your eyes overflowed as you fell silent.

“Aw, birdie, don’t cry. I’m not gonna hurt you, I never have, right?” He waited for a second, watching your face before he pressed harder, eyes hardening “Right?“

You nodded jerkily, and Keigo came to kiss your tears away, savoring their salty taste as they rolled down your cheeks.

“Keigo, this isn’t right though, please get off me. I don’t want this-“

“You want me to take this away?” A hand caught your shaking wrist, the one that had the quirk suppressor fastened snugly around it, wrenching it up so both of you could see it. “Huh? Put you back where you were in your miserable little life? Running away from everyone, holing up in your apartment, not willing to touch or be touched…”

The very thought made your insides churn, and a fresh round of tears rolled down your face as you shook your head no, lips wobbling as you whined. You felt so pathetic, so small and dumb underneath Keigo.

“That’s what I thought. You’re going to relax now, right? No more begging unless it’s for more.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, beginning to shuffle around until he could slide his hands under your shirt, pressing against your tummy as you flinched away.

“Don’t worry birdie, you’re gonna like every single thing we’re gonna do. You’ve had sex now, yeah? Since I gave you the bracelet?”

You shook your head “no”, it’s not like you were eager for sex before you got it, and all the touching-without-terrifying-visions thing was still new to you, the dating world was being eased into. Somehow though, every single date seemed to be crashed by the man on top of you.

Keigo lit up like a Christmas tree, licking his lips gleefully. “Okay, okay, I can-whew, that’s hot-I can be gentle.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, his hands skirting up your ribs, shucking up your shirt as the traveled higher and higher.

“Keigo please-“

“Don’t you dare say stop, I’m not gonna. You’re the first person that doesn’t want anything from me, you’re real, and I’m not stopping.”

His admission made you cringe, recoiling from his touch. He followed you, palms finally smoothing over your breasts, over your bra.

“You’re going to do what I say, or else this-“ Your wrist was wrenched into view, red-and-black bracelet glittering. “-gets removed. And I’ll still do whatever the fuck I want, but you’ll be off in your mind having visions of who-knows-what while I have my way. Got it?”

Your blood chilled, body suddenly feeling ice cold. His tone was dead serious, spitting out the words with a sense of finality.

“So, just lay there and take it birdie, I’ll be good to you.”

#yandere keigo takami #keigo x reader #Keigo Takami #yandere takami keigo #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #Yandere bnha #yandere #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.somno #tw dubcon #creepy keigo

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simplee-dreaming · 3 years ago

Text

The Runner

(Part 2 here)

A/N: Okay so I've been writing this for a while and only just finished it but I'd like to know whether you guys would like me to turn this into a series? This part works well as a stand-alone but can easily turn into a series if you would like!

Word count: 3194

Summary: The reader works as a runner on the set of Infinity War and developes a bond with Chris Evans.

(SPOILER WARNING: There is one spoiler for Infinity War in this fic, but I'm sure many of you have seen it anyway)

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“Black coffee for Mr Evans please! Black coffee!” A man called over the radio. Your ears pricked up and you ran into the kitchen to make a black coffee. You came charging back out and headed straight for Chris Evans’ dressing room, but his assistant jumped in your path.

“I’ll take that to him.” He said, snatching it out of your hand.

This was your first time working as a runner and you were starting to get the hang of the job. You had only been working there for three weeks and you had about 8 months to go. You were highly excited to work for Marvel, being a fan yourself, but you hadn’t met any of the cast or even the directors. You had caught small glimpses of them but never had any interactions. You had a lot of responsibilities as a runner - making tea and coffee, handling the paperwork, assisting anyone who needed it - and yet you were just chopped liver to everyone on set.

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

Another month had passed and you had grown closer to the other runners, the kitchen staff, the cleaners and even the third assistant directors. You were far more comfortable in your job and you even had the opportunity to stand with the third assistant director and watch them film Loki’s death scene...though not your favourite thing to witness.

You still hadn’t interacted with any of the cast but you were used to that by now. It was mainly running orders for everyone and handling the secretary-type roles, which you didn’t mind doing anyway.

Call after call came over the radio with people demanding all sorts of coffees and teas and hot chocolates and cold drinks. Enough to keep you on your feet during the long days. There was a break in demands when they were setting up ready to shoot another scene so you stood with your work friends for a chat before the room had to fall silent. One of the runners let out a small gasp and directed you with their eyes. You turned around to see Chris Evans walking behind you, heading onto set. He turned to you all and gave a little nod and a smile before carrying on. Your heart fluttered. Chris Evans just acknowledged your existence. A stream of small shrieks and giggles came from your group as everyone tried to compose themselves before filming commenced. That was your day made.

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

“Black coffee for Mr Evans please! Black coffee!” A man called over the radio. Same guy every day, always his assistant. You quickly marched into the kitchen to get his coffee ready before anyone else did. Strong black coffee with one sachet of sugar. You grabbed the cup, marked it with Chris’ name and strolled over to his dressing room. Once again your luck had vanished when his assistant jumped in front of you and grabbed the cup.

“The order is absolutely correct, yes?” His assistant asked, like he did every time you brought the coffee.

“She makes it the majority of the time, I’m sure she has the order right by now.” Said a voice from behind you. You turned around to find Chris Evans smiling at you. You gave a shaky smile back.

“You know, you make my coffee all the damn time and I don’t even know your name.” He said. You gave a shy giggle. There was a pause.

“So...what is your name?” He asked.

“Oh, um, sorry, yeah, it’s Y/N”, you responded.

“Y/N. Very pretty name. Well, thank you Y/N for the constant coffee. I’ll make sure you deliver them straight to me next time.” He winked at you and you giggled again. His assistant cleared his throat.

“Mr Evans you’re needed in makeup now.”

“Yes thank you Darren. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Chris?” He huffed. He gave you one last smile and walked off. You were in heaven.

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

A week had passed and you hadn’t interacted with Chris since. Every time there was a call for his coffee, you were busy doing other jobs. You had sorted out multiple paperwork, made drinks for crew members and you were currently assisting the cleaners in cleaning up a very messy set after they had stopped shooting a scene. You didn’t mind because the cleaners were all lovely people, plus it gave you a bit of a break before running all over the place. You were kneeling on the ground sweeping up the smaller bits with a dustpan and brush until a pair of feet suddenly appeared in your eyeline.

“Missed a spot” came a voice from above you. You looked up to find Chris Evans towering above you. He winked.

“You’re everywhere at the moment. I’m sure this isn’t in your job description.” He said.

“It’s not, but the more hands on deck, the quicker this gets cleaned.” You shrugged. “Plus, I don’t mind, all of these people are lovely to work with.”

Chris smiled at you and bent down to help.

“You’re an A-List celebrity, you shouldn’t be cleaning up this mess.” You said.

“You’re right. I’m far too big of a diva to clean.” He replied. He flicked a tiny stone at you and you gasped.

“Now is that any way to treat your staff?” You teased, throwing a bit of soil on him. He laughed and you continued to throw bits of rubbish at each other until Darren appeared.

“Oi! You there! What do you think you’re playing at?!” He asked you.

“Oh, I’m sorry we were just..”

“Chill Darren, I was helping her clean up and I started the rubbish fight.” Chris interrupted.

“Well, you need to be resting. You have a big scene coming up.” Darren huffed.

“It’s fine, I was resting then I got bored and now I’m having fun.” Chris responded.

“Fun? With a runner? I highly doubt that. You best head to makeup and get yourself cleaned up.” Darren said to Chris. He then shot you a glare and marched off.

“Sorry about him, he’s very pompous.” Chris apologised.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.” You said. Even though you were used to people degrading you for being a runner, it still hurt when they did.

“Well you shouldn’t be.” Chris said. He reached out to squeeze your shoulder but was interrupted by Darren yelling “CHRIS!” at the other end of the room.

“I better go before Sir Shouts-A-Lot yells at me again.” Chris said. You let out a little laugh and watched him leave.

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

Two more weeks had passed and you had only spoken to Chris on the odd occasion that he would pass you on set. Every time there was a coffee call, Darren made sure someone else made it to stop you two from interacting. You couldn’t see what his problem was but you chose not to kick up a fuss anyway.

When your break finally came around, you grabbed a cup of tea and decided to walk around the studio...just so happens that along your walk was the caravan park where all the actors stayed on set. You heard a familiar voice behind you and your heart dropped.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing back here?”

You froze.

You slowly turned around, ready to face the wrath of Darren, when, to your surprise, Chris was standing there grinning.

“Good impression, no?” He chuckled. You let out a long sigh.

“Jesus, Chris, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” You scorned, but you couldn’t help smiling,

“On your break?” He asked, gesturing to the tea in your hand.

“Yeah, only a short one though. I get to finish early today.” You said.

“Oh nice! I’ve already wrapped for the day myself. Say, did you want to do something when you’re finished? It’s cool if not, I just thought it would be nice for us to actually talk and maybe become friends? Without the demon on my shoulder.” He said. You smiled instantly.

“I finish in 2 hours, I would love to do something!” You said, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

“Okay okay, um, I have a few movies back in the caravan if you wanna pick one later?”

“Sure, sounds like a plan. I’ll run over as soon as I’ve finished.” You smiled at him.

“It’s a date.” He winked at you and walked away.

Time was moving slower than ever. You kept checking your watch to see how much time had passed but it was only ever a couple of minutes. You decided not to look at your watch for a while and carry on with your duties. The next time you looked at your watch you had half an hour left. A wave of excitement came over you and you went back to finishing up your jobs.

Finally, the time had come.

You finished the jobs you were doing, collected your belongings and clocked out. Butterflies swarmed your stomach as you walked off set and into the caravan park. That’s when you realised you had no idea which caravan was Chris’. You walked up and down and scanned each one, careful not to look like a creep. Suddenly, the door of the caravan on your right opened and Chris stepped out.

“You’re not lost are you?” He asked, smiling.

“I wasn’t sure which was yours, they all look the same,” you said, shyly. He chuckled and invited you in.

You stepped into his caravan. There wasn’t a lot of stuff as it was only a temporary home, but it was still enough to produce a warm ambience. He gestured at you to sit down on the sofa, opposite the tv.

“I have chocolate, popcorn, sweets...salad...what do you fancy?” He asked.

“They’re all fine...except for the healthy stuff, that ruins movie time,” you said. He laughed and poured the sweets, chocolates and popcorn into separate bowls and placed them on the table in front of you.

“Drink? I’ve got fizzy drinks, water, hot chocolate, tea, milkshake...um...black coffee…” he said, you chuckled.

“A milkshake might be nice if that’s okay?” You asked, he nodded and said he was gonna have one too.

You couldn’t help the mix of nerves and excitement flowing through your body. You were sat in Chris Evans’ caravan...with Chris Evans! It really was a dream come true. You tried to calm yourself before you had a fangirl attack but it meant you came off quite shy and quiet.

“Here we are,” he said, placing the milkshakes on the table. “Are you warm enough?” he asked. You noticed you were sat on the sofa looking quite tense. You nodded.

“I’ll get blankets just in case,” Chris said. He went into his room and came out with two large blankets. He passed the softest one to you. You thanked him and adjusted yourself, taking off your shoes so you could sit cross-legged on his sofa with the blanket draped over you. This made you feel a bit more relaxed.

“So, um, what do you fancy?” he asked. You bit your tongue to stop you replying with “you”, you felt it was far too soon in your friendship to make a joke like that.

“Um, Captain America?” You joked. He giggled.

“Nuh-uh, not happening. Try again,” he said.

You had a small discussion on the types of films you like and you settled on Deadpool. Still a great Marvel film, just one that doesn’t have Chris in it so he didn’t have to stress about watching himself.

Chris put on the film and sat next to you, he grabbed his own blanket and draped it over his long legs. He offered you food and you kindly accepted. You both sat in silence whilst the film began, though you kept having to bite your lip to stop you from smiling so much.

About 45 minutes into the film, Chris started to get fidgety, so he tried to adjust himself without making too much noise. In the process of moving his hand, he accidentally scratched the sole of your foot. You let out a squeak and pulled your foot away.

“Sorry, sorry, that was an accident,” Chris said, apologetically.

“It’s okay,” you said, relaxing a bit but praying that he didn’t notice your squeak. You didn’t notice him giving you a side-eye with a puzzled expression on his face.

He sat still for a few minutes then went to adjust himself again, this time deliberately scraping his nails against your sole. You squealed louder and tucked your foot under your leg. You looked over at him and he had a wicked smirk on his face.

“You’re not ticklish by any chance, are you?” He asked, the corner of his lip curling up.

“N-no, you just made me jump,” you said, unconvincingly. He narrowed his eyes but let out a “hm” and turned back to the film.

You were a lot less relaxed now. You were ridiculously ticklish but only a handful of people knew. The trouble was, you did enjoy being tickled but you were always embarrassed by how ticklish you were. Your heart was pounding at the thought of Chris Evans discovering this weakness.

A few more minutes had passed and you couldn’t properly relax. You were still sat cross-legged but your foot was tucked further under your leg this time. Chris let out a little yawn and stretched, you flinched at his movement but still kept your cool. He noticed and tried to hide his smile. When he put his arms back under his blanket, he casually let one hand slide over and gently tickle your toes. This time you let a small giggle slip out and you clamped your mouth shut.

“I think you are ticklish,” he teased. Your heart did a somersault. He gave you a playful smirk and the nerves washed over your body. You couldn’t even find the words to speak. He reached over and grabbed your foot with one hand, pulling it out from under your leg, and he used his other hand to tickle your sole. You shrieked loudly and tried to tug your foot away but his grip was too strong. You couldn’t even twist that far away because of how you were sitting. You fell backwards into the sofa and kept giggling.

“Chrihihis plehehease,” you giggled.

“Aww look at you, you’re so ticklish,” he cooed. You lifted up your blanket to cover your bright red face.

“Oh no you dont,” he said. He stopped tickling your foot and lunged at you, pinning you down to the sofa. You screamed at the sudden attack and pulled the blanket further over your face. He shook his head and vibrated his fingers into your tummy. You shrieked loudly and used one hand to bat away his hands.

“Come on, I wanna see your face when I tickle you,” he said. Your laughter shot up an octave when he started squeezing your hips.

“Oh? Did I just find a bad spot?” He asked. You kept trying to bat him away with one hand but it was no use.

“Remove the blanket or I’m gonna make this worse for you,” he said, sternly.

“NEHEHEVER!” You shrieked under the blanket.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shot his hands under your arms and you screamed loudly. You couldn’t keep holding the blanket over your head with him tickling deep into your armpits. You slammed your arms down and the blanket fell off you in the process.

“That’s better, I can see your face when you laugh now,” he said. The feeling of his fingers wiggling deep into your armpits was absolute torture.

“Surely it doesn’t tickle this much?” He asked. You shrieked loudly and your laughter grew more desperate with every tease.

“Does it tickle more when I mention how much it tickles?” He asked, clearly aware of what he was doing.

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUP!” You cried. He laughed with you which made it worse.

“Ohh, cootchie cootchie coo,” he said in a high pitched teasing voice. That made you scream more and frantically try and buck him off you.

You thought that would be the killer move? Oh no. Not for Chris. He picked up the pace of his wiggling fingers in your armpits and bent down to nuzzle his beard into your neck. His longer hair brushed over your ear too. This was the killer. It was absolute torture. He blew a raspberry into your neck and you fell into silent laughter. You couldn’t cope with him tickling your armpits, his beard tickling your neck and his hair tickling your ear. He laughed into your neck and the vibrations were the final straw. You started hitting his shoulder with as much force as you could and he sat back up, removing his hands.

“Sorry, I went a bit too far. Are you okay?” He asked, getting off of you. You lay there, sucking in deep breaths, and nodded. Your face was the deepest shade of red it had ever gone.

“Are you sure?” He asked, giving you a hand up.

“I...I...” you began, he looked at you with a concerned expression on his face. “I’m okay,” you breathed out. He gave you a soft smile.

You were more in shock at the fact you had just been ruthlessly tickled by Chris Evans. You couldn’t speak, your heart was pounding ten to the dozen.

“You’re quite possibly the most ticklish person I’ve ever met,” he said. Somehow your face went an even deeper shade of red.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you blush,” he cooed.

“Shut...up..” you whispered.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, shuffling closer to you.

“Yeah, I’m more than okay,” you said. He raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you liked that?” He asked, a hint of teasing in his voice. You blushed and tilted your head down.

“No. Way. You enjoyed that didn’t you?” He asked. You blushed once again and gave a very small nod.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get more adorable,” he said. “Little Y/N enjoys being tickled.”

You looked up at him. A wave of playfulness came over you.

“I’m so gonna get you,” you said. Before he could protest, you launched yourself at him and tackled him to the sofa. You wasted no time in squeezing his sides.

The laughter that came out of him was one you had never heard before. It was so warm and genuine and it only made you want to tickle him more. You giggled at his weak state and switched between tickling his sides, armpits, tummy and ribs to see which one made him laugh the most. It was clear that he was enjoying himself too.

“Aww is Chris ticklish too?” You cooed, surprised at your sudden confidence. You were met with a chorus of begs and pleads but you couldn’t stop yourself tickling him.

It was a really cute afternoon with just the two of you. But you were both too distracted to see who was outside the caravan, watching as you both ruthlessly tickled each other.

Darren.

#tickle fic #avengers tickle fic #ler!chris evans #lee!reader

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beyondspaceandstars · 4 years ago

Text

While You Sleep

Chapter 9

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: N/A, just fluff this time! Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

(a/n: yes i really used some cliche scenes expected from a bucky fic but come on you have to, right?)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

If you thought you were scared before your first encounter with Bucky, your feelings as you got ready for this date were unbelievable.

The pressure really felt on this time.

In the anxiety of nervousness and self-doubt, you had bought a whole new outfit for this date. You stood in the mirror, checking yourself over as you adorned a lovely knee-length, flowy dress. It had little flowers decorated all over it. The fabric was soft and comfortable, easing worries just a bit more - if you felt good, all would go good, right? The entire thing was complimented by a new pair of flats. You even spent more time on your make-up, making sure everything was just right and accentuating all your features pleasantly.

The more you did, the better you felt, until you realized there was no more to do. Once your hair was laid gently over your shoulder in a cascading braid, you had to face the fact that it was almost game time. Glancing over, your clock told you Bucky would be here any minute.

Still, back at the mirror, you couldn’t help yourself from fidgeting. You tweaked your braid, fixed the invisible wrinkles on your dress, even reconsidered your lipstick color choice… But then it happened. Your phone’s ringtone sang throughout your room, giving you a jumpscare. You had to take a deep breath before crossing the space and answering the call. Bucky’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hi, Bucky,” you said.

“Hi, doll,” Bucky responded, a little sing-songy tone in his voice. His cheeriness was practically contagious through the phone. Your heart fluttered. “I’m outside whenever you’re ready.”

“O-Okay,” you sputtered out, letting out a cough to cover it but it didn’t work well as Bucky let out a light chuckle at your nerves. You chose to ignore it and continued, “I’ll be down in a second.”

“Alright,” he said. “See you soon.” The line disconnected. You sighed, gripping your phone probably too tightly. Closing your eyes, you inhaled then exhaled, centering yourself, letting your pounding heart come down.

One last look in the mirror and you realized that it was game time. There were no more preparations you could make. Your soulmate was waiting downstairs and off you went to get swept away.

Bucky wasn’t the only thing that greeted you when you exited the apartment building. He was standing by a taxi, one arm leaning against it like it was the world's most romantic chariot. A smile broke out on your lips as you approached him.

“Good evening.”

Bucky gave a nod, “Good evening.”

He kept staring at you, taking you in fully and shamelessly. You blushed under his focused eyes and quickly looked away. Motioning towards the taxi, you said, “Is this our ride for the night?”

Now he was smiling as well. “Just to get us there.”

You hummed, interested. “Where is ‘there?’”

“Gotta get in the taxi and find out, sweetheart,” Bucky said with a proud smirk as he opened the door. He extended his arm out dramatically, motioning for you to slide in. You mumbled a shy thank you, still feeling your blushing was out of control and got comfy in the cab.

Once Bucky was also settled in, he leaned in very close to the driver and whispered the destination. You pretended not to notice but had to admit, he sure was sticking to the whole surprise thing. It made you feel quite giddy inside knowing he was going through all this just to surprise you. To give you a (hopefully) nice date.

Once the taxi driver understood the address, Bucky leaned back and the drive began. You stared out the window, watching your neighborhood pass by, as you tried to ignore Bucky still staring at you. It was like he was really focused on you like he was searching for something. It made you feel all kinds of warmth under your dress.

“You look beautiful,” Bucky finally said, breaking the backseat silence. Your heart that was once pounding suddenly was going a million miles an hour. Uncontrollably, you whipped your head to look at Bucky. You met his eyes which were looking at you with such wonder and longing. Oh yeah, it was getting warm in this taxi, you thought.

“Thank you,” you said, shyly. You still didn’t understand where this nervous, antsy of you was coming from. You had been around him plenty of times, even had a bit of a fight that night in your fucking apartment, but now this was what you were scared of? A date? You had to shake your head to literally shake off the nerves, something that was becoming a habit of you now.

Eventually, you forced yourself to add on to the conversation, “You look great, as well.” And that certainly was the truth. Bucky had cleaned up nicely. His hair was slicked back casually. He wore a soft sweater and black slacks. The outfit was paired with dress shoes. The entire look just felt… Classic but in the best way. In a way that was Bucky at heart.

You two fell into silence again but it was more comfortable, like Bucky’s words had hidden messages telling you to calm down. This was just another date, as couples do, and you two had been through crazy stuff - cough, cough… the fucking apartment showdown. Well, maybe that was a bit dramatic, you thought, but it sure felt hostile in the moment.

Moments later, the taxi stopped outside some… dance hall? You peered up at the sign, quizzically. You had no idea these places even existed anymore. This was already turning out to be the most unique you had ever been on but it wasn’t like you had been on many.

You were about to get out when Bucky stopped you. Confused, you watched him run around the front of the taxi and stop at your door. He opened it for you, as any gentleman would. He offered you his hand and helped you out. After paying for the cab, he came back to join you, offering his arm for you to take.

“Dancing?” You asked as you two walked towards the entrance. “You’re taking me dancing?”

There was a faint blush creeping up on Bucky’s neck. “I am,” he said. “Back in the day, when I wanted to woo a girl I took her dancing. I hope that’s okay with you.”

You giggled, “Yeah, it’s...” Your words abruptly stopped as you were suddenly hit with the realization: you didn’t fucking know how to dance. Even in your own time period, you couldn’t be thrown out anywhere expecting to bust some moves. Your feet stopped moving before you could enter the hall.

Bucky turned to you, concerned. “Everything okay, sweetheart?”

You wouldn’t look at him and instead looked past him, through the clear doors of the dance hall, watching the couples spin and twirl about. “I don’t know how to dance.”

Bucky waved a hand in dismissal and continued walking. “There’s no need to worry, doll,” he said as he opened the door for you. “You can follow my lead and you’ll be just fine, okay? I’ve got you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Bucky placed a hand on your lower back, leading you around the hall. The music was loud, more on the big band side, though. You saw up-close now as the couples flung each other around, laughing in awe at one another. There was a bar off at one end where patrons moved around it with beverages. The place was fairly crowded as well, something you didn’t really peg Bucky for being enthusiastic about, but his face lit the second you two walked in. There was something like a sense of familiarity in his eyes.

You didn’t comment on it, though, and instead took his arm again, letting him guide you to the bar first. You were silently thankful, hoping a nice drink would loosen you up - at least, enough to actually get you on the dance floor.

Bucky ordered for you two which you actually appreciated. Part of you enjoyed seeing him take charge like this. Plan the date, open your door, order a drink you might like… The care of it all made your heart sing.

Retrieving the drinks, he handed you one. You thanked him as you took the drink and looked it over. The drink was something dark poured over ice. An orange peel and cherry bobbed in the liquid, next to the ice. You sipped it, letting the taste of whiskey and orange essence hit your tastebuds.

“It’s lovely,” you said and took another sip. For as nice as it was, you weren’t exactly well versed in cocktails. “What is it?”

“An old fashioned,” Bucky answered as he took his own sip of the drink, letting himself lean in closer to you as you two stood at the bar. He still watched you with a curious intensity that made your skin all kinds of heated. “I-I’m glad you like it.”

A silence fell over you two once more as you sipped your drink and let your gaze wander back to the dancing pairs. They moved so majestically and vibrantly across the hardwood floor. Engrossed with one another, trusting as they spun about. You had to admit, it did look quite fun.

“Up for a bit of a dance after this, doll?” Bucky drawled, a hint at what sounded like a little Brooklyn accent peaked out, making you grin. He must’ve been absolutely transported back in time and you were so thankful you could be there with him.

You took a drink, probably more than you should’ve in one gulp, and said, “Maybe if this drink kicks in soon I’ll let you show me a few moves.” You smiled to yourself. “That is, assuming you still have moves.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at you as he stared at you above his glass. “Excuse me?”

You giggled, “Well, you’ve got a few years in you. Just want to make sure you can show a gal a good time.”

Bucky scoffed and then, without any other warning, he grabbed your drink from your hands. Slamming both the glasses on the bar counter, he gripped your hand in his and dragged you out to the floor. You shuffled to keep up, giggling loudly at the fire you had sparked within him. It was amazing what a little banter could do to him. Once he picked an area, the band began playing a new song and Bucky fell into the rhythm quickly.

You stared, a bit stunned watching him move. But Bucky wouldn’t let you just stand there for long. Getting into the beat, he grabbed both your hands and began instructing you on the steps. Thankfully, it wasn’t as serious as you thought it would be. This was just a dance hall, after all. Everyone was too caught up in their own lovers to pay attention to others. You watched his feet intensely, as you kicked and stomped, feeling a bit clunky but Bucky, you glanced at him every now and then, was watching you with a hint of pride in his eyes.

Suddenly, he decided to get daring and spun you out, quickly pulling you back into his arms. You let out a laugh, enjoying the spontaneous move of it all and reveling in the feeling of his arms around you. Following that, you fell back into the rhythm. As you got more confident, you could actually look at Bucky better and saw he looked just as pleased and excited as you were. You felt you two had melted into the crowd well despite you feeling like a sore thumb.

The twirling was probably your favorite and you were very pleased with your dress choice. As he moved you, it would flare just slightly around your thighs, making you feel like fabric just drifting in the wind. Bucky seemed to like it as well as his hands felt like they made a point to never leave your body, always prying and begging for you close.

Eventually, after a couple of upbeat songs, the music turned down, now on the more slow side. Bucky, however, seemed very prepared for this as he pulled you into his body without a second thought. His hand landed on your lower waist, your front pressed to him securely. His metal hand was entangled with yours, lifted away from your bodies, as you two moved in a small circle.

You and Bucky finally really locked eyes for what felt like really the first time in the entire dancing sequence. His eyes looked at you so softly, so in total awe. Maybe there was even a hint of admiration just lurking, you noted. You felt yourself blushing intensely, but then again, when weren’t you like that around Bucky?

Bucky eventually spoke. “You were a natural, sweetheart.”

You shrugged, a small smile on your lips. “I think I just had a really awesome teacher.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grinned. “He must’ve been great. Taught you some nice moves.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, “he’s the absolute best. Really good-looking as well. That’s a nice bonus.”

“You’re making me blush, doll.”

“Good. That’s how I get all the time around you. It’s time you had a taste of your own medicine.”

Bucky threw his head back, letting out a loud laugh. “Really, honey?” His eyes met yours again. You jumped at the new pet name. It felt so much more...domestic. “I make you blush? Make you feel a bit warm?” His tone got lower as it was just above a whisper. A shiver ran up your spine.

You bit your lip, contemplating how far this was going to go. “You make me feel many things, Bucky. Good things.”

His grin had turned to a full teasing smile now. He didn’t respond, though, just nodded with a mischievous expression now coming across his features. You were going to ask what he was thinking about when the music stopped and the band announced they would be taking a break. It sounded like Bucky let out a sigh of relief as he promptly took your hand and began leading you off the dance floor.

“You hungry, doll?” He asked, stopping next to the exit, hands in his pocket now, looking all casual. But the casualness was a nice cover, you thought, as his expression held everything but unsuspecting.

You hummed. “I could go for something.”

He nodded, still smiling. “I planned to cook you dinner. Is that alright?”

You gasped, “I get to go to your apartment now?”

He laughed as he took your hand again, now leading you out of the dance hall. You two began making your way down the street, hands gripped tightly together.

“You will get to see my apartment but fair warning, it’s nothing special.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, like mine was a real looker.”

“At least yours looks lived in.”

You looked up at Bucky quickly, mouth open now as if you wanted to say something but you didn’t really know what. He wouldn’t look back at you now and instead just kept leading you to presumably his apartment building. You turned your sights back on the sidewalk, watching the cars and people rush around in the nighttime landscape of the city, as you let Bucky guide you.

It was a fairly nice area he lived in, an estimated taxi ride away from you. The area was really bustling with people now and there were shops and eateries galore to browse. You glanced in the windows as you passed, watching others mingle about and eat their dinners.

Eventually, Bucky stopped in front of a building and pulled open the door. He let you in first, still ever so the gentlemen despite you not knowing where the hell you were going. Neither of you dwelled on this though as Bucky took your hand again and led you to his apartment. You felt yourself getting antsy the closer you got but you didn’t understand why. As much as you wanted your flirting to get you a little bit somewhere, this was dinner. A nice lovely dinner with your soulmate. One that he planned to cook. (Could he actually cook, though? You debated this as you went.)

Bucky unlocked the door and let you in. Sadly, he wasn’t too far off from the comment about it not looking lived in. There wasn’t… much of anything. There were the essentials - kitchen, couch, stools, television - but nothing that screamed Bucky. Or that he even actually stepped foot in here.

But you weren't about to say any of this. You lingered by the kitchen counter. “It’s cozy.”

Bucky chuckled, “Thanks for trying, doll.”

You frowned. “I-I mean it. It’s nice. Clean and… and formal.” Well, you thought, what could you expect from a former soldier?

Bucky raised his eyebrows, though, not buying it.

“Alright,” you sighed, “it could use maybe some personal touches but your space is your space. Who am I to judge when mine looks like it's falling apart?”

“Yours has personality,” Bucky shrugged as he slowly took steps towards you. You were leaning against the counter now, arms crossed watching him approach.

“That means it's a trainwreck.”

He smirked, “It means it fits you and I like you, so, naturally, I’m going to like your apartment.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “You like me?” You asked and winced at your words. Apparently, you were having a hard time growing out of this silly schoolgirl crushing phase.

Bucky nodded, now pretty close, staring you down. One hand came to rest on the counter beside you, slightly trapping you in. “I do like you.”

You couldn’t get over how close he was now. Even during your slow dance, you don’t think he was like… this. Towering, confident. Your eyes flicked to his inviting lips quickly before returning back to his eyes. They held amusement and… Was that a hint of amorousness in them? Your pulse was racing.

“Enough to make me dinner?” You let out a breathy chuckle, trying your hand at humor to figure out what was going on here. You didn’t mean to be practically dismissing these advancements but you also couldn’t believe they were happening. You thought it was just some sweet back and forth in the dance hall, a possible side effect of the adrenaline from dancing getting to you two. But, no. This fact was simple. Bucky wanted you.

“You know,” he sighed, “I don’t think I’m really hungry.”

“Oh?”

“At least not for dinner.”

You were barely able to let out a gasp at his confirmation before Bucky’s lips were on yours, hot and heavy.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #mcu #mcu fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #avengers #soulmate au #fluff #writing*#the winter soldier #fanfic #fanfiction

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 4 years ago

Note

Can I have a drabble with Thrawn ?

I was thinking about a scene, shortly after the death of the emperor and Vader and the death star explosion. He would summon Reader to tell her they are among the last authority figures of the empire alive and although he has everything under control, it will be difficult and he could really use an hand this time.

Bonus point if they hug.

Thank you Darling (may I call you that way?)

A/N: Okay, so we’re going Original Thrawn Trilogy canon with this. Let me see what I can do. And you absolutely can, if you like.

Also, this turned into a thing because I have no sense of control.

Word Count: 1.4 K

You kept your head high as you walked through the quieted hallways of The Chimaera.

Nobody could focus on their duties and none of the officers had it in them to give orders. The shock of information had dumbfounded the entire ship. The second Death Star was destroyed. Half of the Imperial Fleet was gone. The Emperor was dead.

The rebels had done it. It was the beginning of the end.

But, The Chimaera was still there and all waited on baited breath for their Grand Admiral's orders.

You tried to focus on your steps rather than the whirlwind of emotions threatening to drown you. You had always been sure of who you were and where you stood in the galaxy. You were Commander Y/N of the ISD Chimaera, second to Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Imperial Navy. But what did that mean, if the Empire ceased to exist?

You shook your head.

No. Empire or not, you were still a Commander. The Chimaera was still your ship and so long as it kept flying, that would never change.

With new found resolve, you quickened your pace stopping just in front of Grand Admiral Thrawn's office.

You knocked on the door and a moment later, it opened with a small hiss.

Upon entering, your eyes were drawn to the holo projection in the center of the room. It did not take you long to realize the calamity of the scene before you. The Battle of Endor in all it's fiery disaster.

Thrawn stood in petrified stillness, watching the holo in intense concentration; his glowing red eyes illuminated in the dim blue light.

You stepped forward, focusing your attention on the calmness of his form rather than chaos.

"Has the fleet regrouped?" you asked.

Thrawn turned his eyes toward you, refocusing to the present moment.

"No," he said. "This was sent to me from the Accuser, requesting assistance from all Commanders."

"Should I plot a course, sir?"

He shook his head. "No. We're too far out of range to provide any timely assistance. There are others on their way.”

You nodded, understanding the logic behind the statement. Still a question buzzed in your mind, one that was plaguing everyone on the ship: what do we do next?

You kept quiet all the same, knowing if Thrawn wanted to tell you, he would do so, in his own time.

Thrawn turned off the projector, allowing white lights to fill the darkened space. He then reached behind his desk and pulled out a crystal bottle filled with amber liquid and two glasses.

"Join me, Commander?" he asked.

It wasn't and order, which itself prompted it's own question.

"Depends on what we're drinking to, sir."

"To our fallen officers," he answered, pouring a healthy dose into each glass. "And to the new Empire which will rise from the ashes."

He held out the glass, which you took with caution.

"Implying the Empire has already fallen."

Thrawn raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe it will survive?"

You opened your mouth, with a ready yes on your lips, but stopped. Taking a moment, you looked down, examining the ridges of the glass in idle thought.

"No," you said, slowly. "If it was just the Death Star or just the Executor, that would be one thing. But the loss of both and the Emperor is too much. There is no central leadership, and will all the Navy's resources poured in the second Death Star, I doubt there is enough remaining to maintain control over the rebelling systems."

You looked up to meet Thrawn's approving eye at your assessment.

"Of course," you continued. "If there were someone to take control..."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Thrawn's lip as he bowed his head.

"You flatter me, Commander," he said. "However, how many of the remaining Admirals do you believe would willingly follow my orders?”

Your instinct was to say all of them, but again, you hesitated. As your superior officer, you had learned to trust Thrawn's command implicitly, but a quick review of your history reminded you of how rare that truly was. There was a reason the Emperor had left Thrawn to deal with the fringes of the Empire rather than involve him in Core politics.

Each and every Grand Admiral would see themselves as the successor to the Emperor's legacy, not the alien with nothing but rumors to uphold his reputation.

You let out a sigh. "None, I suppose."

He inclined his head in acknowledgment, just as he raised his glass.

"The Empire is gone," he said, solemnly. "Long live the Empire."

You each took a drink. The expensive liquid both burned and soothed your throat on its way down. It was an odd sensation, but one you hadn't realized you needed until that moment.

"I take it you have a plan," you said.

"The start of one," he assured, with just a hint of a smile. "In the mean time, we shall continue to maintain control of our own systems. Whatever resources available, we will refocus into our fleet. With any luck, others may join us, but we cannot rely on that fact."

You nodded, finally feeling as if your feet were starting to settle on solid ground.

"Shall I inform the crew?" you asked.

He shook is head. "I believe it would be best if they heard it from me."

There was a pause as you waited for him to dismiss you, but, no such order came. He just kept looking at you.

It was a familiar look, but one always caught out of the corner of your eye. The kind of look that left your heart racing and blood warm. Now, so clearly directed at you, it was hard to breath.

"Is there something else, sir," you prompted.

He blinked as if coming back to himself. "How long have we known each other, Commander?"

You frowned, slightly taken aback by the sudden change of subject.

"Ten years, more or less."

He nodded, setting down his drink as he did so. "I could tell you exactly; ten years, seven months, and twelve days. You were a Captain at the time."

The warmth in your cheeks spread, forcing you to put down your glass as well.

"And you were a Commander," you said, the memory coming back to you with the ease. "It has been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Yes." The word was spoken so softly, you almost wondered if someone else had said it.

Glancing up, you caught a strange gentleness in his expression. It only lasted a moment, but it was there all the same.

"You don't have to stay," he said.

You straightened in bewilderment. "Sir?"

"The reinstatement of the Empire is a task which will take years to complete," he continued, calmly. "It will take dedication and sacrifice. Only complete devotion will allow it to come to fruition. I plan to announce that any who wish to leave the service are free to do so and return home. Those who remain, will likely never see their home worlds again. It is not to be taken lightly, and I will not have anyone on my crew who doubts their resolve.”

He paused, just as a hint of emotion came into his voice.

“I would not force you to stay, if you do not wish it."

You stared at him, mouth gaping in wonder. Your answer came easily.

"I'm not leaving you, sir."

He blinked. Your stomach twisted.

You had said “you”; not the Chimaera, not the service, you.

You wanted to take back the words, but it was no use. You knew the truth and now so did he. You might be willing to give years of your life to the service, but you would give your entire self to Thrawn.

He watched you with an unreadable expression. Slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal, he walked out from behind his desk.

"I thank you, Commander," he murmered. "I admit, I hoped that would be your answer. I could not imagine the next few years without you with me."

Your breath hitched, just as he stopped only a foot from your body.

He had said "me".

Without a word, he reached out a hand and tenderly pressed it to your cheek.

His touch sunk into your skin making your melt into him. You placed your hand, over his, keeping it there. If this was your imagination, you needed to cling to if for as long as you were able.

He stepped closer, his glowing red eyes gazing into yours as the warmth of his breath brushed against your lips.

"There is something else I must ask of you," he whispered.

"Anything."

He leaned a hair closer, his nose brushing against your own. "May I kiss you, now?"

A small smile came to your lips. "You needn't ask."

With that permission, he pressed his lips to yours pulling you into a slow and passionate kiss.

The Emperor was dead. Long live the Emperor. And long live the one at his side.

#star wars #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn x reader #the thrawn trilogy #timothy zahn

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seasonofthewicth · 3 years ago

Text

nobody does it like you do - act 3

Here is act 3!!! Thank you so much for all of your enthusiasm so far! Hope you enjoy :)

8.6k - masterlist - ao3

Aelin has never really thought of herself as someone with a lot of friends. She’s always had Elide, Aedion and Lysandra, but they almost fall into a separate category. Like what they’ve been through surpasses friendship, and she thinks at this point Elide and Lysandra are as much her family as Aedion.

Throughout her years in the industry she hasn’t made many friends, Chaol and Dorian are probably the only two, but she's learned how things work. It didn't take her long to realise that all the girls she met at auditions, and bonded with over all of the things they had in common, would have stabbed her right in the back at the earliest opportunity.

It's cutthroat, but she can't say she's never succumbed to the temptations.

She’d be lying if she said she’d never pretended she was there to audition for another character just to get the other actress to spill her analysis of the character. She can’t say it was unintentional when she’d leave the audition room and then pretend to take a phone call where she’d discuss how pleased the casting director had been with her take and had promised to call, watching the faces fall of the other hopefuls she waltzed past.

She can’t say she’d never do it again.

That said, she feels like she has a good thing going with Fenrys, Manon and Rowan. They've hung out a couple of times and she likes them admittedly more than she thought she would at first. The dynamic is fast and snappy, funny and sarcastic, and she can feel herself getting back into the old motions.

Aelin knows they’re friends now, and it feels really fucking good, but she has one concern. She’s not entirely sure that what she feels for Rowan can be described as friendship and she’s kicking herself for letting it happen. The physical attraction she can excuse, he looks how he looks and she’s defenseless against that, but the rest? The rest is where she’s really let herself go.

He’s opened up to them a lot more now, and they spend a lot more time together than they did at the start. Just last week she had thrown herself into her seat at the end of a long day of shooting and plunked her feet in his lap. She had expected him to throw them off and growl something at her, but he had simply rested his left hand on her ankle and continued to scroll through his phone with his right.

It had felt far too easy to settle into his touch, and far too enjoyable to have the heat of his skin against her own.

Even so, there’s a level of detachment to his interaction with them. He falls somewhere between bemused dad and despairing lecturer tasked with herding a group of unruly children through a life or death venture. He curses actors all day long but he’s just as dramatic. There are moments when she catches him beginning to smile at a comment from Fenrys or the bickering she and Manon do before he halts himself and seems to rein it back in.

She wants to see him grin.

It’s kind of weird to think back to the first week of shooting and how unsure she felt around them, how insecure she was of her own ability compared to theirs, but by now she’s pretty sure she’s past the worst of that and she doesn’t want to waste any more time doubting herself, at least in comparison to them. It helps when Rowan makes little comments like nice job, Aelin or when she catches the nod he does after she nails a scene, especially when he tries to hide it.

She posted a picture on Instagram of the four of them from set last week, her and Manon crouched at the front wrapped up again in the massive coats they give them on set, their faces almost completely covered by the puffed up collars, and Rowan and Fenrys stood behind them, their arms crossed across their chests and faces twisted into overly dramatic imitations of anger. It had taken some pleading and possible bribery from Fenrys to get Rowan to agree to the pose, but they had succeeded in the end.

She had captioned it so we stole their coats… and tagged each of them, watching as the likes came flooding in. Only seconds later the comments had begun to run a bit wild.

This is going to be so good I can already tell.

fenrys looks so hot fuck me up

ARMS!ARMS!ARMS!ARMS!

Are they dating?

She stopped reading the comments pretty quickly after that.

They’re about a third of the way into shooting, and Aelin knows what she’s accomplished so far is some of her best work. It hasn’t been easy, but she’s put hours and hours of her time into understanding her character and she feels like she truly knows Feyre, and almost sees some of herself in her. There are differences of course, Aelin isn’t quite as naive as Feyre or as forgiving, but they’ve both been dealt a shitty hand, and Aelin likes to think she’s working just as hard as Feyre to pick herself back up.

She finishes the take, and slaps her usual high-five against Fenrys’ palm and sends her regular nod over to Rowan. Good? Her nod asks. Good, his own gesture returns. She tucks her smile away as she begins to wander over to where he’s stood chatting with a producer.

She’s built a habit of going over to him once they finish shooting, she wants to seek him out constantly, and she feels drawn to him in a way that she’s beginning to lose the fight against. She’s about halfway towards him when she spots a tall head of brown hair making its way towards her.

She barely has time to process before there are a pair of strong arms around her waist and she’s being lifted up and swung around, her feet dangling inches above the ground.

“Hello, superstar.” His voice is deep in her ear and she can feel the vibrations where she buries her face into his neck.

“Gods! I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.”

She gasps as he places her back down on the ground and she can finally smile up at Chaol. Taking in the chestnut-brown of his hair and the faint creases beginning at the corners of his rich brown eyes. Gods, she’s missed him.

She’s known he’d be visiting the set at some point. The Crescent City is his baby, a script he’s been working on for years, and she knows he couldn’t stomach leaving it all to Rowan without any supervision.

He had first mentioned it to her a few years ago, but back then it was nothing more than an idea. Aelin knew he had been chipping away at it in the background for a while and it wasn’t a surprise when he first sent it to her. It’s different now though, now that there’s a budget and a set and actual progress made in getting it on screen.

It feels like a big deal to her; she can’t imagine how Chaol feels.

She had never dreamed though, through all of their midnight conversations about it and their half-dreaming out loud discussions, that she would be the one to star in it.

Chaol just grins at her, a twinkle in his eyes that she knows means he’s happy, and says “thought I’d surprise you.”

“It’s definitely a surprise.” She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck for a second time. She squeezes him tight and breathes him in, his smell is comforting and it makes her feel young again. “How long are you here for?”

He gives her waist a short squeeze, reminding her that his hands are still resting there with hers still up on his shoulders. It’s not the closest she’s ever been to him, and it doesn’t cross her mind for her touching him so freely to be an issue.

“A couple of days.” He smiles down at her again. “Lunch?”

“Of course, let me change first?” She asks, releasing his shoulders and turning to walk back to her trailer. He holds a hand out, as if to say lead the way.

She sets off as he follows, and she can feel the lightness of the wide smile across her face. It’s a kind of comfort now that Chaol is here, he’s taken care of her for so many years and his presence grounds her in a way she hasn’t really found with many other people.

Rowan still stands with the producer behind where some of the team are tinkering with the filming equipment. His brow is drawn into a frown and the producer standing with him has begun to look profoundly uncomfortable.

The take was good, she knows that, and when he runs a jagged hand over his face a jolt of concern strikes her. He looks anguished, or frustrated, and she wonders how he’s soured so quickly after the silent exchange they shared mere moments ago.

His gaze snaps to hers and it’s a powerful thing. His stare weighs heavily into her, so much so she wants to look away and her steps falter. The stumble is barely perceptible, but she sees it and thinks maybe he does too. There’s something thorny in the pull of his brows and the twist of his mouth and she wants to go over, ease his troubles, but that’s not her place. And Chaol is inches behind her following her lead.

Rowan’s eyes flick to Chaol and his mouth twists further. And not to get ahead of herself yet again, but surely not, right? His gaze switches back to rest on her, only for a second longer before he mouths something short and sharp to the producer and disappears.

Aelin shakes it off. She might think they’re friends, but as has become her mantra, he’s her boss. What she needs is something gentle and simple and uncomplicated. In the real world, everything she wants from Rowan is decidedly complicated.

Sitting opposite Chaol is a place she’s been many times before. More often than not, Dorian would have taken up the mantle at Chaol’s side, the pair of them closer than brothers. They have the kind of relationship she thinks truly cannot exist for people other than the two of them.

The level of understanding they share, the lengths they would go to for each other, it’s unparalleled and she longs to find a bond like that one day.

When she was younger being sat in a position like this, opposite Chaol, so close they could whisper to converse, would have been a dream. She had a bit of an infatuation with him when she first met him; he was a few years older than her, charming, handsome and calming. He had been her entrance to the world she lives in now and he had kept her safe and taken care of her.

She had thought he was everything she wanted.

She had realised pretty quickly, after going in for an ill advised kiss that he had swerved, that that would never be an option for them. He had let her down kindly and gently, which she appreciates now, even if it felt like a blow at the time.

He hadn’t let her pull back from him though, he had kept her close until she eventually got over the embarrassment and was able to look at him without blushing. It’s not something she dwells on now, she was young and naive and she could have done a lot worse than Chaol.

He was who she had gone to when she had met Sam. She had waxed poetic to him about the boy with the curly brown hair and the shy smile. She smiles lightly to herself at the thought of him, what he would make of where she’s at now.

He’d kiss her cheek with his arms around her waist, boasting how his girl, his baby, was a star in the making. She swallows the thought, struck by both the image and the lingering pain it brings, but also by the knowledge that she’s gone a couple of days without thinking of him.

She hasn’t thought of the boy with the brown eyes in a few days, hasn’t woken up screaming in even more. She breathes past the panic that threatens in her throat, both at the idea that she hasn’t thought of Sam for a while and the reasons there could be for that.

“How is the love of my life?” She focuses back on Chaol and watches him try very hard not to choke on his mouthful of his drink.

He had picked the cafe, even though she’s been in Rifthold for a while it is still far more his space than hers, and he knows the hidden gems like this that she isn’t privy to yet. It’s rustic and cosy, the brick walls have colourful bunting draped between them and none of the chairs inside match. She’ll have to come back if the food is good, the atmosphere inside is relaxed and busy enough that she can feel completely anonymous. She doesn’t want to leave, maybe next time she can bring a book.

“My beautiful wife is well,” he manages once he swallows, and she smirks at how he knows exactly what she’s asking. “Almost past the second trimester now, and still refusing to slow down.”

That sounds exactly like Yrene. She says as much and Chaol nods wearing the expression of a man who, if he didn’t love his wife so much, would be tired of chasing after her.

Yrene is a whirlwind of energy and efficiency and it’s why she’s one of Aelin’s favourite people. She’s full of exciting tales and inspiration, that is, when she can get Yrene to slow for a second enough to catch up. She probably doesn’t need her high paced job as a doctor in Rifthold General Hospital, like, Chaol’s scripts are successful, he’s won a number of awards that sit in a special cabinet in their house, but that’s just how Yrene is.

Caring and kind and so, so smart. If Aelin didn’t do what she does, she’d love to be like Yrene.

“Second trimester?” She cries. “He’s almost here!”

Chaol is again at risk of choking. “Aelin, please. I still have a few months left to get ready.”

He looks almost panicked and she scoffs. “Chaol, please.” She mocks his tone perfectly and ignores the eye roll he gives her. “You were born ready. You’ve basically raised me for the past few years and look how well I’m doing.”

He laughs, and she smiles, it’s exactly the reaction she wanted.

“I’m not sure that’s the glowing compliment you think it is,” He says dryly and she just pokes her tongue out at him.

“Chaol,” she begins, seriously this time. “You are already the best dad I know, you’ll be fine. And if not, the baby has Yrene, so he’ll definitely be fine.”

He doesn’t bite on any of it, just looks bashfully to the table cloth and nods. She can’t resist one last comment.

“And even then, he’ll have me and Dorian.”

“Gods, Aelin. The thought will send me to an early grave.”

She tilts her head to the side and sketches a flip of her hair over her shoulder. The combination of her and Dorian and a baby probably would give Chaol a heart attack but she’ll embody her role as the cool aunt, and Dorian can more than handle the cool uncle.

“Do you not want your child to be cool?” She knows he’s barely finding her funny at this point but she’s missed him and she loves winding him up.

He’s saved from having to respond by the arrival of their food. She stares longingly at his burger and greasy side of fries and forces herself to take a mouthful of her wilted salad.

After a few bites she notices his expression, something pinched around the corners of his mouth, and she knows there's something he wants to say.

To say that Chaol is less invested in her sobriety than Aedion and Lysandra would be a lie, but he doesn’t question it as openly as they do, so she doubts what he wants to say is anything to do with that. She’s ordered an orange juice to spice it up, and he has a tap water that he ordered without question so she thinks he mustn’t be concerned.

“What?” She says slowly, whatever it is she wants to know, and the pain of waiting for him to spit it out was almost too much.

He shakes his head and pops another fry into his mouth. She can’t resist stealing one and a swipe of ketchup off his plate.

He begins carefully, after using his napkin to dab at the corner of his mouth. “How is it going? You read the script pretty early on, do you think…”

He trails off, and seems to pause while he considers his words, but she doesn’t need him to finish.

“Chaol, I think it’s going really well,” she says and it’s sincere. “And it’s not just because I’m in it.”

It’s far easier to crack jokes and reassure others than it is to be the one being reassured.

He shoots her an unimpressed look, but she knows her words have done their job. Even through her faults she knows he trusts her judgement.

“I feel like you asked that in a way that meant you thought it wasn’t going well.”

She’s fishing a little, but Chaol is a gossip at heart, even worse than Dorian despite how he’d deny it.

He sees right through her, but relents as he takes another bite of his burger. She stabs another bundle of lettuce, dipping it in a pool of dressing resting in the bottom of her bowl as he swallows and speaks.

“I didn’t think it would go badly, but Fenrys Moonbeam has a bit of a reputation, and I just hope he’s taking it seriously. I put a lot of work into it.” He pauses and Aelin just waits. It doesn’t seem like he’s quite done. “Rowan Whitethorn too. But I think his reputation is a bit different.”

It puts her in a bit of a weird position with a sharp taste in her mouth, wanting to defend her new friends to one of her oldest, but Chaol has to understand that how he sees them isn’t right.

“I don’t think either of them is quite how you think.” She says it gently because she doesn’t want to risk irritating Chaol with this. “Fenrys works really hard, you know. He’s putting a lot of work into understanding Rhys, Rowan too. He puts a lot of thought into what he does, he’s really smart.”

He’s watching her silently, his eyes shining with a question she doesn’t want to answer.

“You’ve written an incredible story Chaol, we all want to do it justice.”

The quirk of his eyebrow is somewhat impressed as he takes her in, but maybe there’s something more in there. Something that catches the difference between the way she talks about Fenrys compared to the way she talks about Rowan.

“I’m glad,” is all he says.

“It’s going well,” she says and truly believes it. “I’ve said it before, but it really is a work of art, Chaol.”

She pauses, her next words thick in her throat. “Thank you… for writing it, I mean. It means a lot to me, and I am honoured to play this part.”

He nods thankfully, and she knows he appreciates the compliment but his response is typical Chaol. Quiet and understated but shining with sincerity.

There’s a moment before the corner of his mouth pulls upwards and she knows he’s just about to turn the game around and tease her now.

“A part of me wishes I hadn’t written so many intimate scenes between them, the thought of you and Fenrys Moonbeam…” He trails off.

She tugs her lips inwards between her teeth, pleading with the blush on her neck not to rise. They haven’t got to those scenes yet, and she’s been avoiding the idea of them. She doesn’t want to think about what she’ll have to do with Fenrys in a couple of weeks.

Fenrys isn’t the problem though, she knows he’ll be professional and respectful. The problem is that Rowan will be there, watching them, watching her, and the idea plays with her in a dangerous way. Everything about Rowan feels dangerous to her, and gods if that isn’t half the draw.

“I know we joked before, but you do know you’re not my father? You’re worse than Aedion,” she laughs.

Chaol just shakes his head, “I’m allowed to look out for you.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, but you’re only, what? Five years older than me?”

“Six. And Rowan Whitethorn is older than me.” The way he says it is noticeable, like he has a point to make.

“He is?”

So she didn’t know that, but it worries her how it doesn’t change things even a little bit. It doesn’t change how attractive he is, or the fact that she should be going nowhere near the idea of the two of them. She needs to call Elide, or her actual therapist.

“Yes, I think he was in the year above me at the Royal.”

She really doesn’t know all that much about him, hadn’t even known he went to the stage school in Adarlan.

What she knows is the fleeting moments she sees of him behind the camera, the expressions he makes when he’s impressed and when he’s not. She knows things like his coffee order, his hatred for the little pastries the catering department provide and how he doesn’t seem to drink alcohol. She knows about Lyria, but it’s from the internet, not him.

She doesn’t know him.

“Oh,” is all she manages.

Chaol eats another fry, watching her the whole time, and she wants him to look away. She has nothing to feel guilty about; they haven’t done anything. She has one, probably inadvisable, crush on her boss that she’ll speak to Elide about and get over. Then the movie will be done and she won’t ever have to see him again.

The dropping sensation in her stomach at the thought is less than desirable.

Chaol stays for a few days. He hangs around on set and sits in her chair while she films. It’s a pleasant kind of relief, tinged with an element of nostalgia, to have him around. He makes her feel like a kid again, and she feels herself looking towards him for approval when she desperately avoids how she wants to do the same to Rowan.

He relents on the second day, after having met Fenrys and Rowan properly, and admits to her that he thinks his baby is probably in good hands. She just says “I told you so,” because she’s a child and annoying Chaol is fun.

She’s sitting in Manon’s chair next to him, and they’re talking about Aedion. He and Chaol have a friendship she likes to pretend doesn’t stem from a mutual concern for her. Chaol is saying something about how he doesn’t envy Aedion’s schedule, but she’s barely listening.

Aelin’s watching where Rowan stands a few feet away. He’s wearing a soft-looking black sweatshirt and jeans, and she can’t help but imagine how it would feel to slip the sweatshirt on herself. How it would still be warm from his body, how the sleeves would trail way past her fingertips, how the smell of him would surround her.

He’s directing Manon, gesturing jaggedly with his hands and she’s nodding along. The shades of their hair almost match, Aelin notices absently, but she prefers the silver shine to Rowan’s compared to the clean-white of Manon’s. Rowan makes a gesture with his right hand and his fingers flex in a rhythmic movement, the elegant lengths of his fingers flowing freely in motion.

She wants to take that hand and put it on herself, she wants to run it down her side and between her thighs. She wants to take his fingers into her mouth and suck.

And like, what the fuck Aelin?

Texting Rowan is, objectively, a bad idea. Not that it’s a bad idea to text a colleague and ask to hang out, it’s just that that isn’t exactly what she wants to get from texting him. So yes; it’s a bad idea, and Aelin knows this, but she’s been thinking of doing it for a couple of days and the desire to do so hasn’t faded. She’s thought about it for long enough that she’s rationalised it, it’s not rash.

Aelin wants to know Rowan.

She taps away at her screen, hi rowan… No. That's not right. Aelin deletes it.

Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to… Nope. Not right either. She bites her lip while she backspaces the string of letters.

She wants to seem casual, so if he’s not into it it’s not awkward. Aelin’s a feminist, but she still doesn’t want to outright ask him out until she’s tested the waters a little more, got a bit of a better read on him and whether he could be into it or not.

She thinks he is, at least a little bit. She knows his eyes linger on her sometimes, sometimes her face, sometimes her arse. She likes it, but whether all he feels is attraction, or whether he feels the same as her is a mystery.

She still hasn’t spoken to Elide about it, but there’s a devil on her shoulder whispering that she’s probably past the point of no return already.

i’m sick of takeout, she types. want to go and grab a bite somewhere???

Aelin taps send before she can overthink it. She can always invite Fenrys to come along too if Rowan doesn’t seem keen on doing something just the two of us.

It’s not long before her phone buzzes with a response. You’re sick of takeout, so you want to go and eat out?

She chews the inside of her cheek, his response doesn’t really give her much. And while it’s not a rejection, it’s not a yes. Maybe her text was stupid, gods, why didn’t she think-

Her phone buzzes again. How about I cook something instead?

Much better. She smiles as she writes her response.

i don’t really want food poisoning :/// my boss might be a bit pissed if i can’t work

The bubble with the three dots pops up immediately, and her thumbs hover over the screen as she waits.

Ha. Ha. He sends, and she can’t fight the little laugh that escapes her as she imagines him rolling his eyes at her. His next text comes through pretty quickly. I’m on board with going out if you want, just thought something more private could be better.

And shit. There are a number of ways she could interpret that. Aelin’s trying not to read into things, things like Rowan saying he wants to go somewhere private with her, he could just be talking about paparazzi. Damn, he probably is just talking about paparazzi.

oh yeah sounds good actually but pls don’t poison me

He just sends a straight faced emoji.

Aelin leans back into her couch as he sends another follow up text.

Do you want to come here?

She could, but he hosted last time. And while she liked the atmosphere at Rowan’s house, she can’t deny that she likes the idea of him here. She likes the idea of seeing Rowan making his way around her kitchen, likes the idea of Rowan sitting opposite her at the end of this couch.

or you could come here????

She bites the corner of her nail as she stares at her screen, waiting for his response to come through.

Sure. I’ll swing by the store to grab some ingredients. How many people am I cooking for?

Aelin pauses, her thumbs hovering above the keyboard.

was thinking 2 but i can invite others if you want

She thinks that’s pretty clear, but it also puts the ball in his court. She’s the most nervous she’s been so far as she waits for his reply, and the three dots pop up before disappearing again. They pop up again, before finally his message comes through.

Don’t. His text reads. I’ll pick up enough for two.

His response is pretty clear too, and she smiles as she sends three thumbs up emojis.

Her apartment isn’t dirty, or even messy, but once she’s locked her phone she’s up and full of nervous energy. It’s probably presumptuous to make sure her bed is made, but she does it anyway. She leaves the leggings and oversized sweater she wears on, it’s casual, she’s chilled out. Or she can at least pretend to be.

She’s doing her last round of the apartment, keeping her eyes peeled for any stray socks or underwear that she could have left anywhere. A blush threatens her cheeks at the thought of Rowan and her underwear, but she forces it down when there’s a sharp knock at the door.

She swings the door open and there he is.

He looks good, as always, but today it’s highlighted by the deep green military-style jacket he has thrown on over his plain white t-shirt. The tan of his skin always looks good against bright white, and the green of his jacket draws out the depths of his green eyes.

“Hey,” she breathes as their eyes meet.

He smiles, a slightly crooked thing, and he just looks even more attractive. “Hey.”

He’s carrying a brown paper bag pressed against his side in his left hand, and she reaches out to take it from him as she steps aside to let him in. He steps in, but resists her grab for the bag, instead wrapping his right arm around her waist to pull her into a brief hug. “Thanks for having me.”

His words take her back to the first time she visited his house. The time with Fenrys and Manon and the football game. The visit with her and Rowan in his kitchen.

She’s nowhere near as stiff with him as she was then and she lets herself relax into the hug.

“I only let you in on the promise of food,” she says into his chest and feels more than hears his reluctant snort of laughter.

Every time they touch she’s struck by how much she likes it. How much she wants more. But then he pulls back, twisting to push her door shut.

“I feel like I should let you know now before we go any further that I can’t cook.”

Rowan only raises a brow.

“Seriously, when I was in college I set off the fire alarm in my residence at least three times.”

“Three times?” His eyes widen in playful disbelief. “What were you making?”

“Well,” she laughs. “The first time I was trying to make Lysandra a birthday cake but then I got distracted and left it in the oven for three hours. The fire department got called but it was not that big of a deal, there wasn’t a fire.”

There’s laughter dancing in his clear green eyes as she regales her tale of youth. She practically beams at the knowledge that she has put it there.

“But our kitchen did smell like smoke for the rest of the year.”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re bad at cooking.” Rowan tilts his head down at her and she realises they’re still standing in her entryway. “That sounds like you don’t pay attention.”

Aelin shrugs at his teasing. “The third time was the worst. I was trying to do that thing where you put vodka in pasta sauce.”

“Gods,” Rowan’s laughing now and she loves the low rumble of the sounds. It pricks the hairs on her arm as the sound washes over her skin.

“There were some flames,” she confesses and he winces.

She didn’t have a completely normal college experience, she was acting part time in very minor roles during her time there but she managed to make some memories in her short time there. After Sam she dropped out and the memories always leave a bittersweet taste in her mouth.

Talking about this with Rowan and laughing at her silly little anecdotes is one of the first times it hasn’t hurt.

“Sucks to be an actor,” he says mockingly with a nod into her apartment as she finally leads him into the kitchen. The apartment she’s staying in is fine, more than fine, it’s actually a really great apartment and she tries to fake a frown through her smile.

Aelin shrugs. “We can’t all be big, household-name directors, living in glamorous mansions, too famous to go out to eat.”

She shoots him an amused look, and Rowan just smirks, tilting his head to the side in a way that exposes the length of his throat.

So maybe this was a fucking dangerous idea.

Inviting Rowan to her apartment had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he’s here, now he’s in her space, looking all… damn him, he looks so fucking good she feels flushed.

She used to think brunettes were her type, Chaol and Sam were both brunette, with tanned skin and brown eyes. Recently though, as much as she wants to resist it, her type has pretty much become Rowan.

Rowan with his silver hair, and green eyes. His low voice with it’s lilting accent from across the sea. His skin is tanned too, but she knows it comes from spending hours outside rather than genetics.

She hasn’t thought seriously about another man since they started filming, or more likely since the moment they met in the hallway.

And if she allows herself to admit it, probably a lot earlier than that.

She shakes herself as he watches her.

Rowan smirks at her as he places the bag on the counter. “We’ll have to try not to set this kitchen on fire.”

She’s perched atop her counter, with one knee crossed over the other, as she watches Rowan unpack the items from the bag. He’s shucked off the jacket by now, and the t-shirt he wears gives her uninterrupted access to the image of his toned arms and the tattoo that swirls down his left side.

She realises a moment too late that he’s asked her a question.

“What?”

She can tell Rowan knows why she didn’t respond, she just hopes it’s not too much for him. From the smirk he wears she thinks maybe not.

“I’m trying to teach you a valuable skill, it may help to pay attention.” She flips him off and revels in the dark flash of a smile he offers. “I asked if you have a frying pan.”

Aelin pulls a face, she hasn’t done a lot of cooking here past the basics like pasta and soup. Her microwave has been a trusty companion.

“I don’t know.” She waves a hand to the cupboards that line the side of the room. “Have a look in there.”

He gives her a look that tells her he’s deciding whether or not he likes her giving him orders, but then he turns to rummage through her cupboards before returning triumphant and waving the silver frying pan in her face.

“So, what are you making for me?” she asks as he finds a chopping board and unloads the hoard of vegetables he brought with himself.

“Veggie burgers,” he states simply, and she knows she pulls a face because he laughs. “Before you complain, they’re good for you. And they’re tasty.”

She still wrinkles her nose at him, unconvinced.

He cocks his head as he pauses his rhythmic chopping of the leafy green vegetable he has on the board. She’s trying desperately hard to make eye contact and not just stare at the motion of his hands, and his arms, and the ink swirling down his skin.

“Didn’t I promise not to poison you? Do you not trust me to take care of you?” Aelin doesn’t think she’s reading into things to hear the flirty tone to his voice.

“I’ll let you know after I’ve tried the burger.”

Rowan shakes his head at her, the ghost of a smile floating across his face as he resumes his chopping. “Ye of little faith.”

Aelin just shrugs, making a show of being sceptical by turning her nose.

“You could always help,” Rowan comments. “Or do you regularly invite guests around expecting them to make you a meal?”

“Tell me what to do, chef.” Aelin holds her hands out, ready for instruction. “I am yours to instruct.”

Rowan nods and reaches back into the bag and pulls out a can, he turns to find a bowl and a fork and places them in front of her. She’s impressed that in under half an hour he knows his way around her kitchen far better than she does.

“Mash these,” he says.

Her disgust isn’t pretend this time and her lip curls. “Mash these beans?”

Rowan nods.

“Mash them?”

“Yes, you do know what that means don’t you?”

Aelin hits him with the fork on the bicep and he laughs again, the sound smooth and rich in her stomach. “Shut up. You’re not convincing me this is going to taste good.”

Even so, she opens the can and is about to tip them into the bowl when Rowan grabs her hand. His fingers are warm and solid where they wrap around her own, and she snaps her eyes to his face at the contact.

“Rinse them first. You warned me and yet I still overestimated your ability in the kitchen.”

He’s smiling slightly, exposing the whites of his teeth, and he’s so close to her face. They’re almost level where she sits on the counter and Aelin swallows. His eyes are bright as he looks at her and she feels her smile grow involuntarily. Something flickers across his face before he clears his throat and steps back letting go of her hand. She misses his touch immediately after it’s gone.

Aelin slides off the bench and turns towards the sink to compose herself, she rinses the beans under the tap and Rowan stays silent while she does.

She turns back and tips them into the bowl and begins to mash as Rowan grates a carrot. Aelin really didn’t know her flat even came with these things.

“This is actually fucking disgusting.”

She’s managed to turn the bean mixture into a grey-ish mush. There’s no way this can taste good, she’s going to struggle even putting it in her mouth without retching.

Rowan snorts. “It’s good for you.”

Aelin wrinkles her nose again, but keeps going. It speaks volumes that she’s willing to trust Rowan on this.

It feels weirdly domestic to be here with him in her kitchen, and they move with an easy kind of synchrony. He adds his chopped vegetables to the bowl and she mixes them together as he readies the pan.

“Up for getting your hands dirty?” Rowan asks her once he’s done, and hell if Aelin doesn’t read far too much into that. The answer is yes.

“Always.” Sue her if she makes sure to look up at him through her lashes, and to bend forwards towards him as she rests her forearms on the kitchen counter.

“Grab a handful of the mixture,” He points to the contents of the bowl. “And shape it into a round patty.”

Aelin goes to put her hand tentatively into the bowl, it’s now a grey-ish mush with flecks of orange and green and she’s dreading it getting under her nails.

“Wait,” Rowan says, and he reaches out to roll the sleeves of her sweater up. It’s such a sweet gesture that it kind of takes her by surprise. The gentleness with which he holds her wrist as he rolls the fabric is nice, and she finds herself watching his face as he does it.

His brows pull together, in an expression she assumes is concentration, as he makes the careful motions. He looks good, she notes, not for the first time.

His thumbs and index fingers move down to squeeze the junction where her wrists meet her hands as he finishes and says, “there you go.”

“Thanks,” she breathes.

Aelin turns back to the bowl, attempting to somehow calm her heart. Rowan really needs to stop touching her if she wants to get over whatever this is. But now that he’s here, and he’s looking at her the way he is, and specifying that he wants to spend time with her, just the two of them…

It’s the first time she allows herself to consider that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t something that’s only dangerous. She finally allows herself to consider the idea that this could be fun, this could be something she could really enjoy. And here, in her apartment just the two of them, he doesn’t have to be her boss. He’s just Rowan and she’s just Aelin.

She really likes that thought.

Rowan clicks the pan on, and the sound startles her out of her head. Aelin hesitates before finally plunging her fingers into the mush and gods, she has some faith in Rowan if she’s going to even consider eating this.

It’s gross, but she manages to shape it into two round patties, and she places them into the pan when Rowan instructs.

Aelin washes her hands as Rowan pays attention to the burgers, and she retakes her seat on the counter after sorting out their plates and condiments. She might not be a great cook, but she can be a good host.

She watches him flip them a couple of times, taking the opportunity to ogle without risk of being caught staring. He has strong arms, and the tattoo snaking down his left makes her mouth water with every flex of his muscles. He has wide hands with long, almost elegant fingers that she wants to link through her own. Aelin is reminded, as he lifts the pan, of the thought she had the other day when he was directing Manon.

It wasn’t the first time she had considered Rowan in a sexual way, but it was the most direct, and she’s not complaining, but sometimes it makes it a little difficult to concentrate in his presence.

Finally, he switches the heat off and turns to place the patties in their buns. Aelin has to admit they look a little better now that they’re cooked, but she’s still not convinced.

He presents her with the plate, wearing a bashful little smile, and she’s taken by how adorable she finds it. He’s actually nervous to hear what she thinks.

She slathers it in ketchup, hoping to make it somewhat palatable and lifts it to her lips, about to take a bite when he speaks.

“We’re eating here?”

Aelin pauses, putting the burger back on her plate. “Where else would we eat?”

Rowan shrugs, still holding his own plate. He doesn’t put any ketchup on his and she’s trying not to be disgusted. She taps the bench next to herself, and Rowan seems to deliberate for a moment before finally hopping up at her side. He towers over her again now that they’re on an even playing field and she likes it. She likes how much bigger he is than her, and likes it even more how she still feels safe with him.

“Okay, now go,” he says, still apprehensive of her reaction, and Aelin makes a big deal of taking a deep breath before her first bite.

She chews it all silently before swallowing, working to keep her expression neutral, and Rowan doesn’t look away from her face the whole time. She purses her lips afterwards, and waits for him to speak.

“So?”

“It’s not terrible,” she admits with a small smile creeping up the sides of her mouth.

Rowan quickly takes his own bite, and she watches the way his fingers dwarf the same bun that fills her hands. He hums his own pleasure.

“Not terrible,” he repeats. “Admit it, it’s good.”

She flips a strand of hair over her shoulder before she takes another bite. She was sceptical -- more than -- when it was still a mush, but she has to admit it’s tasty, and very Rowan. She doesn’t know for sure he’s a health nut, but based on the parts of his body that she’s seen and his distaste for all things sweet, she can guess.

“Maybe,” is all she says before taking another bite. He watches her with a smug smile, one she desperately wants to get rid of. It isn’t helpful that the way she wants to do so is by kissing him.

“Oh!” She jumps down from the counter, throwing her plate to the side, suddenly reminded. “You know what I have that would go perfectly with this?”

She grabs two glasses out of the cupboard and sets them down on the bench in between where she’s been sitting and Rowan. Aelin turns to the fridge before pulling out the small bottle.

Rowan groans, and she tucks the sound to the back of her mind. “Aelin,” he starts. “I don’t want any of that.”

“Come on,” she cries. “A milkshake is an essential with a burger and this is the best I have to offer. If I’d thought ahead I could have at least found a bottle of wine to go with the dinner you cooked for me.”

She’s not entirely sure why she said it, especially when she’s pretty sure she’s deduced that he doesn’t drink, and the reason for it, but it feels like an automatic apology that just slips off her tongue whenever she’s in a setting where alcohol could be a presumption.

Rowan’s expression locks down at her comment and she immediately regrets it.

“Um-” she starts but Rowan clears his throat.

“It’s okay,” he says slowly, avoiding her gaze, “I don’t drink.”

“Oh,” Aelin all but whispers, and it surprises her when Rowan lets out a dark huff of laughter. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m guessing you know why.”

His voice has a somewhat bitter edge to it that she hates.

“I wasn’t-”

She stops when he finally looks up at her and she sees his expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says again quickly and he only shakes his head and pats the counter at his side.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

There’s something in his eyes that makes her retake her seat at his side and pick her burger back up, taking a bite as he takes a breath.

“It’s not something that usually falls into casual dinner conversation.”

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”

It’s something she isn’t sure she realised the importance of at first. The offer of whether to share or not. She fights a desperate war inside of herself every time conversations head down a lane like this. The desire to scream her story from the rooftops squaring off against the desperation to remain closed up where no one will ever know what bubbles just below the surface.

Usually privacy wins. Usually she swallows those words down and stays quiet, keeping this reel of pain and loss and tragedy buried deep within, but here with Rowan, tucked away in the kitchen of her temporary home, the words don’t feel so daunting.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s often something that makes other people feel uncomfortable. They pity the guy with the dead fiancée”—Aelin blinks past the way his voice wavers—“but they don’t want to actually hear about it. I’ll spare you the gorey details but after that I couldn’t bring a drink to my lips again. I’ve never so much as considered it — never wanted to.”

There’s an ache beginning in her chest, and she puts her burger back down on her plate. Rowan hasn’t touched his since his first few bites. She desperately wants to comfort him, wants to place a hand on his shoulder and take the pain away any way she can, but she knows from experience that it can’t be done.

This kind of pain, this grief, is something that can’t be taken away. She lives with her grief and her guilt after Sam every day of her life, and she thinks she will forever. No matter how many therapy sessions she goes to, no matter how many days and weeks and months pass, Sam will always be a part of her. Scrawled across her heart in his messy penmanship.

“I understand,” she says quietly. “More than you’d think.”

This is the moment where she could probably finish, where she could twist the conversation back to Rowan and pat his shoulder sympathetically, or where she could tug it to somewhere new and safe.

But she doesn’t often get opportunities like this, in the dim light and the quiet of her flat where the only other sound is the noise coming from the hood above her cooker. She doesn’t often get to talk about this with someone who truly understands.

All of her friends tried in the months after Sam, and gods bless them they still do, but none of them were as close to Sam as she was. They were upset for Aelin and her loss, not at the loss of Sam. And Rowan, who sits next to her staring at the floor, she thinks he could understand.

His gaze lifts from the floor to meet hers as she begins to speak.

“His name was Sam,” she says and Rowan nods.

“I know.”

Aelin feels her breath leave her chest in a whoosh.

“I saw some of the headlines at the time, Aelin I’m so sorry.”

Her jaw works as she tries to find the words, any words, to respond to that. But she’s shaken. She didn’t think anyone knew, or even noticed, outside of her immediate circle. But then she thinks back to the dinner they shared, the way his gaze had burned into her when the conversation had turned to her break. He knows — he has known — and he gets it.

She shakes her head, composing herself enough to speak. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His lips twist as she repeats his words back to him.

She doesn’t mean to say, “I knew about Lyria too,” but Rowan just nods, breaking their gaze to stare down at where their hands lie beside each other with an expression she can’t read.

Aelin knows she shouldn’t, for any number of reasons, but she reaches out to twine their fingers together atop the marble of her countertop. His fingers are rough and calloused between her own but the thumb he rubs against the back of her hand is gentle and reassuring.

He doesn’t speak, but there isn’t anything Aelin feels the need to say. It’s a kindred kind of silence, one borne of more pain than either of them could bear to speak aloud, and there’s an awful feeling of comfort in it. She knows he’s thinking of Lyria the way she’s thinking of Sam. But there is a part of her mind, a part that’s like a rising sun creeping above the horizon to break the shadow of night, that’s thinking of Rowan too.

Eventually she picks her burger back up again, it’s cold now but she can reluctantly admit it doesn’t taste horrendous. Their fingers stay linked as they each eat single-handedly, building themselves back up to sharing short stories and playful quips.

She’s glad she invited him, her boss or not.

#rowaelin #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelin au #ndilyd #nobody does it like you do

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thegracelessfaceless · 3 years ago

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*slithers in*

Can I request some Helen headcanons? Just like general dating him and maybe some nsfw if possible.

@mutat-ad-astra , ₐᄂᵣᵢg𝓱𝚝 yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ 𝚍ₒ𝚗ₑ ᵢ𝚝 𝚗ₒw. ᵢ'ᵥₑ 𝚋ₑ𝚌ₒᗰₑ ₐ 𝘴ᵢᗰ𝐩 fₒᵣ Hₑᄂₑ𝚗 . W𝓱ₐ𝚝 𝚍ₒ yₒᵤ 𝓱ₐᵥₑ 𝚝ₒ 𝘴ₐy fₒᵣ yₒᵤᵣ𝘴ₑᄂf??

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

ꇙꄲ ꇙ꒐ꋊꉔꏂ ꓄ꁝ꒐ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꉔꋬꂵꏂ ꄲ꒤꓄ ꇙꄲ ꒒ꄲꋊꍌ, ꒐'ꂵ ꍌꄲ꒐ꋊꍌ ꓄ꄲ ꅐꋪ꒐꓄ꏂ ꋬꋊ꒯ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꁝꏂ꒒ꏂꋊ'ꇙ ꋊꇙꊰꅐ ꒐ꋊ ꒐꓄ꇙ ꄲꅐꋊ, ꍌ꒒ꄲꋪ꒐ꄲ꒤ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ❤

ᕼᗴᒪᗴᑎ ᗝ丅Ꭵᔕ/ᗷᒪᗝᗝᗪƳ ᑭᗩᎥᑎ丅ᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᒪᗩ丅ᎥᗝᑎᔕᕼᎥᑭ ᕼᗴᗩᗪᑕᗩᑎᗝᑎᔕ

(With a fem!SO)

♡Let's just get canon out of the way real quick.

♡Helen is very calm and quiet

♡He isn't very expressive and doesn't speak much, but when he does, he's always the picture of the perfect gentleman.

♡If something doesn't concern him, Helen is pretty apathetic towards it. However, if it's something he cares about, Helen will be very passionate.

♡His parents treated him as a pet or toy, and this caused Helen to have repression issues.

♡He won't show emotion towards a person unless they show emotion first, then he will reciprocate. This is essential to remember as Helen's significant other; you'll have to make the first move every time.

♡Helen's a Libra. His birthday is October 1st

♡Helen's parents were so excited when they found out they were going to be parents. That night, Helen's mother dreamed that she had a beautiful baby girl with delicate features, the deepest blue eyes that she had ever seen, and coal black hair so fine that it looked like dark lace against the baby girl's alabaster skin. She woke up certain that she was pregnant with a baby girl that looked just like in her dream. Mrs. Otis went into labor and delivered a baby that indeed looked just like in her dream, but it was a boy. So they decided to continue on and name him Helen, and raise him as they would a little girl.

♡This treatment continued until he started school at six. Then his parents decided to dress him as and refer to him as a boy in order to not draw attention.

♡Helen still suffers from body dysphoria because of this. For a long time, Helen couldn't reconcile whether he was male or female in his mind, so he existed in a chaotic state of one, the other, both and neither all at the same time. Now- after years of therapy, and a great deal of time building his trust with Reader, Helen identifies as agender preferring he/they/it pronouns and a refined but masculine aesthetic.

♡Reader is the only person allowed to call him Helen. And even she doesn't do it often, only when she's serious. He prefers Reader to call him darling, love, honey, dear, and, if he's feeling frisky, Sir 😍. All others may refer to him by his surname, Otis.

♡Helen can be quite manipulative and his intelligence is obvious

♡While in "working" mode, Helen is very cautious of the scene he his creating, and presents every body as if it were a canvas to bear his work.

♡His fascination with blood stems from his childhood. He had always had trouble making friends, only managing one at a time and spaced distantly apart. His only childhood friend had been murdered by bullies in the park, rocks thrown at him for being friends with that "weird sissyboy kid" until one struck his temple, killing him instantly. The bullies had hurriedly buried his friend in the deep snow from the night before. Helen knew this, he had told you, because he had watched it all from his perch in a tree. After the bullies had fled, Helen had uncovered his friend and stared at his body lying in red stained snow, and the bullies later blamed Helen with his friends death. Ultimately, he had been cleared, as there had been a witness in the park.

♡The false accusations of murder didn't stop there, much to your displeasure.

♡In high school, a classmate of Helen's, one who happened to be Helen's only friend, fell from the building and died. A witness said that Helen had killed him, but no concrete evidence was found.

♡Not to say that Helen is an angel. You know he's far from that, too.

♡Later, the same year, as a freshman at university, Helen killed 17 people from his dorm building, and wounded 5 on Devil's Night (October 30th).

♡Helen was found insane by the courts as a minor and received 6 years of inpatient treatment before being released back into society.

♡He started "his work" again three years later, and then met you two years after that.

♡Helen smokes cigarettes (though not as much as Tim) and unwinds after "work" with music and a rum and Coke or whisky on the rocks.

♡Helen enjoys lofi hiphop; classical music; instrumental and instrumental covers of songs; music from the early 1960's like: Frankie Valli, The Big Bopper, the Animals, and the Zombies; and indie rock like The Flaming Lips, Harvey Danger, Dinosaur Jr, and The Smashing Pumpkins.

♡He loves discovering new music with you, listening to playlists you make him for hours. But you're gonna listen to some of his music, too and he makes playlists for you to play according to mood.

♡Helen's love languages are: quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. But the love languages he craves are: all of them except receiving gifts! Getting a gift is uncomfortable for Helen, especially if he has no gift to give back. He wants you to feel just as appreciated as you feel, if not more.

♡Helen thought that he was completely asexual before he met you. No one he had met had ever... Moved him in that way. And he was fine with that. Why should he mourn something he'd never even wanted?

♡And then he met you at an antique art showcase of pieces by and inspired by René Magritte. (Example here: ◎▼◎) After you spent hours together at the show, exchanging witty banter, and eventually, phone numbers, Helen found himself thinking about you that night, alone in bed. And then his mind wondered something it had never thought about anyone else. He wondered what you looked like naked. What your skin would feel like. How would you taste?

♡He frowned to himself, confused by the foreign thought for a moment before he realized that he felt sexual desire for you.

♡It still took him a long while of dating you before he felt comfortable enough to even kiss you in a sexual way. The two of you were practically engaged when he gave you his virginity.

♡Bonus wholesome content headcanon/drabble: Once you convinced Helen to bleach his naturally blue black hair. Not wanting to disappoint you, and telling himself that it was just hair, he consented and you happily set to work. An hour later, he emerged from the shower with a shock of platinum white hair 😱. He had to support himself with a hand on the back of the couch because his knees started shaking when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror over the fireplace. A long, thin fingered hand with a fine tremor lifted to cover his mouth. You knew without him telling you that he absolutely, 100%, no doubt, undisputedly hated it. His already porcelain skin had paled even more, now trembling chalk instead of bone China. His midnight blue eyes held a sort of flinching terror in them as they tried to look anywhere but the vicinity of the mantle mirror. You approached him gently and pulled the towel thrown around his shoulders loose and used his shoulder to balance you as you went up on tiptoe to finish drying his now shockingly white hair.

♡You leave Helen waiting shirtless in the living room to deal with putting his shoes and socks on and you pull on a light jacket to guard against the chill that manages to never be around when we need it during the daytime hours as you enter yours and Helen's shared bedroom. You find Helen a clean black tee shirt and pick up one of your beanies from the coatrack behind the bedroom door. This one was black with a tree frog leaping over the words Frog Leap Studios done in a typewriter font in white thread, a circle of bright blue making the frogs eye stand out.

♡You take the shirt and beanie to Helen and he pulls the shirt on. You feel a little sad that he's covering up, but there would be time to enjoy his body later. Helen sits on the couch so you can slip the beanie over his baby fine hair easier than going up on tiptoe to match his 6'2" lean frame. The bleach may have stolen its darkness, but it couldn't steal its softness. Helen's hair was probably the softest thing you'd ever touched.

♡Hair sufficiently covered, you and Helen get into your car and head to the only place open at the hour of 3:24 in the morning. Walmart. Your sleep schedule had never been normal and Helen didn't help you normalize it at all. In fact, if anything it had gotten worse, the two of you wrapped up in your own hyperfixations, leaned up against each other back to back, or one of you holding the other as one of you writes while the other draws.

♡You feel Helen's hand find your thigh and squeeze it, letting you know he's not upset with you. You reached down and covered his hand with yours, returning the squeeze and you finish out the short ride more relaxed now that you know Helen isn't mad at you. Helen follows you to the beauty section once you're inside the store. He patiently watches as you pick out boxes from 4 different companies.

♡An amused Helen watches you as you quibble with the four boxes. You shuffle through them, running through them over and over like a person considering their hand while playing cards.

♡You end up with him bending down slightly again so you can compare the dyes to his eyebrows. He thinks it's the sweetest thing that you're going through such a clear effort to fix his hair. Obviously you feel responsible for the mistake and he hates that.

♡Gently taking the boxes from your hands, he picks a random red and black one from the four you were debating between and puts the rest back on the shelf.

♡Then Helen pulls you into his arms and holds you tight and close, burying a kiss on top of your head. You smile into his chest, breathing in the scent of paint, paint thinner, lavender shampoo, and jasmine soap. On anyone else, the paint thinner smell would have made you sick. But on Helen, it just smelled like home. You two stay in your embrace, Helen swaying slightly to a beat only he could hear. A stolen moment, a stolen dance, to help ground yourselves.

♡Helen broke the hug after a few moments more, but kept hold of your hand. You walk to the checkout line and pay almost $10 for the dye. The price gave you a mild case of sticker shock, but you shook it off and smiled at the older cashier, who was beaming as her eyes moved between you and Helen. The two of you seemed to get that reaction from older people. That look of pure hope that more people got to experience the love that shone between you. You both thank the cashier repeatedly as Helen payed her the money needed.

"You two have a good night" she smiled at us, "the world needs more couples that look at each other the way you do. You look, at each other like you're reach others entire worlds."

"She is" Helen says softly, pulling me into a hug and a quick kiss, "She's my whole universe."

♡You're pretty certain that the woman's smile could not get bigger. But you didn't really want to find out, since you were starting to notice that her teeth were huge and you were starting to get squicked out by it. Helen must have picked up on your discomfort because he led you away in the protective half circle of his arm.

♡"My knight in shining armor" you croon at him as you walk back to the car, "Thank you for saving me. I am forever in your debt. However could I repay you, Sir?"

♡Helen took in a sharp breath and chuckled as he slowly let it out, "I can think of a few things."

♡"You'll have to show me when you have the time" I teased as Helen opened your car door for me. He'd taught you that chivalry was not dead, and you'd realized that it would be easier to let Helen be a gentleman than it would be to convince him that you could open your own doors.

♡You drove home and locked the doors behind you. You headed straight for the bathroom and Helen borrowed a stool from the island bar to sit on so you could reach all of his head.

♡Twenty minutes later, you threw dye covered vinyl gloves in the trash and settled an old towel around Helen's shoulders and neck to keep the dye from dripping on him. You'd clipped a pillowcase over his hair and you had just finished hitting the dye with heat to assure his hair took the dye well, absorbed it.

♡Helen smiled contentedly up at you from his spot on the stool.

♡You tilted his chin up to kiss him. He kissed you back and then sent soft kisses across your cheek and jawbone, and then kissed and nipped down your neck. Helen focused his kisses back on your lips, kissing you like the kisses would magically cure everything, would keep you alive.

♡The timer you'd set so Helen would know when to wash the dye out of his hair went off, and Helen stood

♡Having already taken off his shirt, Helen unfastened his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them as they pooled around his feet, leaving him completely nude, comfortable.

♡instead of getting in the shower, Helen pulled you closer to the shower and used his nimble hands to liberate you of your clothes. Before you could protest, or even decide if ypu wanted to get in, Helen had pulled you under the spray of the shower and he stood in it now, extra dye streaming in lines

♡You turned Helen's back to you and massaged his scalp as the water rinsed the excess dye down the drain. When the water ran clear, you massaged some of the color protect conditioner that came with the dye and Helen switched places with you, his hands never leaving your hips so he could catch you if you slipped.

♡Helen washes your back for you and then your hair, lathering up a clean washcloth with jasmine soap and making sure not to miss a spot. Then he rubbed some lavender scented shampoo into my hair. Then he rinsed it and repeated the process before leaving some conditioner to sit in my hair.

♡Finally Helen worked some conditioner into your hair that matched the shampoo. You help Helen rinse everything from his hair and you condition his hair with the rest of the conditioner that came with the dye.

♡Showers with Helen always end up with him bathing you, his hands and keen eye not missing a single millimeter of your skin. Showers rarely turned sexual between the two of you, instead the two of you focused on the intimacy of showering together.

♡After all the soap and hair products are rinsed from both of you, Helen turned off the water and wrapped you in warm towels, quickly drying himself off and slinging a towel around his hips.

♡Helen obviously felt better once his hair was back to its natural inky darkness.

♡You could tell from the mischievous grin he wore as he escorted you to the bedroom.

AN: so I wrote on this well into the night... Fell asleep in the process a few times 😅. If you see continuity issues with the POV, let me know so I can fix it. I kept wanting to write in first person 😂

#creepypasta #helen otis #bloody painter #bloody painter headcanons #helenotisheadcanons #helen otis x reader #bloody painter x reader #tw mental/emotional abuse #tw mention of disregarding someone's gender

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