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doctenwho · 3 years

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Man (and TARDIS)’s Best Friend

Hey! Thanks so much for the request, I had a lot of fun with this one! Most of the dogs in this fic are either dogs I had when I was little (and currently) and a few are my friend’s dogs.

The TARDIS being a troublemaker is my new favorite thing, so hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,700

Summary: Check out the prompt above :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the rightful creator!)

In your defense, things had probably gotten out of hand. You really hadn’t meant for it to happen, for one to turn into two, two into three and... well, three into seven.

It really had started with one.

Just a few weeks ago. You were on earth, which, for it being your home planet, you didn’t tend to spend much time around anymore. You and the Doctor hadn’t exactly split up, but he’d left you to your own devices while he went off doing whatever it was he was doing on earth. The man had an agenda, and earth was the only place you didn’t mind being by yourself on.

It was later in the evening, street lights illuminating the darkness around you as you strolled. It was nice to just be back on earth for a while, where you knew the terrain, and the people. Where things weren’t completely surprising, or shocking.

You’d been so caught up in your own head as you wondered around, you’d barely noticed the creature cowering on the sidewalk that you tripped over. The creature whimpered, and winced down, and it instantly broke your heart.

You’d always been an animal person, sympathizing with those neglected, or abandoned, or abused. You couldn’t imagine ever intentionally hurting, or leaving a pet alone, so this was hard to see.

The dog, you realized, stared at you fearfully. Cowering down like you were going to hit it. It was an older dog, dirty and scruffy, some kind of shih-tzu mutt if you were to guess. Its fur was matted, clearly left to on his own for a while at this point.

You didn’t even want to think about what this dog had been through, just from his attitude towards humans, as well as it’s neglected state. He’d obviously been abandoned—maybe grown too old and lost that cute ‘puppy’ image that some people craved. The thought disgusted you.

The poor little guy was skin and bones, shivering where he was tucked in on himself despite his coat of matted fur that was probably too warm for even the late-night chill.

You knew you couldn’t leave him. Not in good conscious. He obviously needed someone—he needed a person to care for him, and do the right thing for him, which is... well, it’s how you found yourself sneaking into the TARDIS with the poor little dog swaddled in your sweater.

The Doctor wasn’t much of an animal person. He’d never outright said it, but you’d never really seen him interacting with creatures. Not like how a human would love and care for a stray dog, or cat. He never seemed the type.

You weren’t sure how he was going to react to the dog.

You moved swiftly through the TARDIS, your little companion wiggling in your grip as you snuck through the TARDIS halls. You weren’t even sure if the Doctor was in, or out.

“(Y/N)?” His voice called from behind you. The bundle in your arms froze, as did you as you debated your options. You were a ways away from your bedroom—the safety of it where you could clean up the little dog and think of a better plan than to be caught in the hallway with a stowaway in the Doctor’s space and time machine.

The Doctor’s steps were approaching, following behind you. He was so close. You turned to look behind you, afraid he’d catch up and you’d have to explain the dog so soon. You squeezed your eyes shut, thinking about making a break for it as you turned forwards again--

And there before you, was a doorway. Which didn’t make sense, because you’d been in the hallway, at least twenty steps away from your bedroom door, if not more. You knew for a fact there wasn’t any doorways for a while, because this corridor often felt endless. You looked around in confusion, frowning to yourself as you let your hand settle on the doorknob.

“(Y/N)?” The Doctor called again, confused, and so much closer than before. You barely had a second thought as you pulled the door open, tumbling in as your feet moved before your brain could process the action.

The door shut behind you, which you had absolutely no part in as you tried to finally catch your footings, arms securing around the bundled dog. It was only when you looked up to see where you ended up that you realized you were in you room.

It didn’t make a lick of sense, but you were quick to settle the dog into your closet as you heard steps approaching, managing to jump onto the bed and pretend to be reading a book that was on your bedside table just as the door opened.

The Doctor furrowed his brows at you, gaze looking from the book in your hands, up to your face in confusion, “I could’ve sworn I just saw you returning to the TARDIS,” the Doctor commented, voice almost distasteful as he eyed you.

“Nope,” you forced out, hoping you didn’t sound as much like you were hiding something as you did to your own ears, “been here a while, Doctor.”

The man casted his eyes around the room again, looking for anything out of the ordinary, before he settled on you again, clearly coming up short.

“Uh huh, well, we’ll be leaving shortly if you’re good to go?” he blinked, leaning just the slightest bit against the doorframe, and giving the room another thoughtful onceover.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered out, cursing your anxious nerves internally before flashing the man a grin to hide you panic.

“Alright, well,” The Doctor frowned as he moved to pull the door shut behind him. He paused before it shut, standing for a second before he spoke again, “I was unaware humans could read upside down.”

The door clicked shut, and it was only then you let out a breath, eyes snapping down to the book you were indeed holding upside down. You groaned to yourself as you righted the book before dropping it back on the bedside table annoyed at that tiny detail that could’ve ruined it all.

You pushed yourself off the bed, moving swiftly to the closet where you pulled the door open and smiled down at the nervous little dog. He was still mostly wrapped in your sweater, but his head and shoulder were exposed.

“C’mon,” you offered your arms, “let’s get you clean up, huh?”

The dog only hesitated for a second before moving close enough for you to pick up. You cradled him in your arms, pressing your cheek against his head as you stared up at the ceiling for a second.

You weren’t entirely sure what had happened just then, but you know one thing. You definitely hadn’t done it alone.

“Thank you,” you smiled up to the ceiling, knowing exactly who’d helped you protect the little dog.

----

You’d given the little dog the name Teddy. He’d been a nervous wreck when you’d been snipping away at his matted fur with the scissors in your bathroom, but he’d warmed up to you a lot while you bathed him warm water with a sweet-smelling dog shampoo that was, confusingly enough, hidden away in the bathroom cabinet.

The name had only really come to be when bedtime rolled around, and you found yourself with a cuddly, snuggly little dog tucked in your arms. It was like snuggling with a teddy bear, and you couldn’t imagine naming him anything else as you stroked his ears as he slept.

You really had just meant to leave it at Teddy, and see how long you could get away with hiding him away in your room. You snuck him food from the kitchen, set down a bowl of water in the bathroom, as well as a bowl of kibble that you had absolutely no idea where it had come from. You suspected the TARDIS helping you out where she could, and the thought made you smile.

It was almost a game at this point, and it was a funny thought that it appeared to be you and the TARDIS against the Doctor. Finally, the odds seemed a bit more well-rounded.

Hunny and Saidy had come into your life unexpectedly.

You knew the two German Shepherd Rottweiler mixes well. You’d gotten the call from your friend, the one who owned the two, that she could no longer keep them. She was being evicted, and it was quite hard to find a flat that would allow someone to have two medium-big sized dogs.

You knew you really shouldn’t take them—but you knew the girls, and they loved you, and the thought of them being rehomed, or given to the pound or something else just because no one wanted to take them made a weight settle in your stomach. The thought of them being separated tore at your heart.

You weren’t sure where you were going to keep them, as you walked into the TARDIS holding both a pink and purple lead as you led them into the time and space machine. The girls were quiet, silent besides their paws tapping on the floor, as well as their panting as you led them along.

You bit your bottom lip as you opened your door, stepping in quickly as you ushered them in, before closing the door and leaning your back against it. When you looked up, your jaw dropped.

Your room was double the size it had been before. Three food bowls, and three dog beds—one small, and two big enough for Hunny and Saidy to sprawl out on. It warmed your heart to see, the effort the TARDIS was going through to make room for the dogs was honestly adorable.

There’d been that inkling of worry that you wouldn’t have enough room to house these dogs and that you’d need to start rehoming them.

You grinned up at the ceiling, “you go, TARDIS,” you laughed out as you kneeled to scratch at both Hunny and Saidy, then, to the dogs, you continued, “welcome home, girls.”

Teddy wagged his tail happily from the bed, hopping down to greet the new dogs, and you were overjoyed to see them all getting along.

----

Gizmo was not a dog. Well, he wasn’t an earth dog, at least. You and the Doctor had been on a planet in a universe you hadn’t even known existed when the two of you stumbled upon a pack of little creatures.

They were babies, you could see.

You’d never seen anything quite like them. They were tiny—like teacup chihuahuas, fluffy like them too. They were a bit bigger than palm sized, and you were sure they didn’t weigh much more than half a pound, if that. They almost... well, they kind of resembled dragons too. It was like an earth dog and a dragon procreated.

Their colours were vibrant, an orange one with purple markings, a green one with red patches. One tri-coloured one, which was two different shades of blue with patches of white.

They were rainbow chihuahua-dragon hybrids.

The babies flocked around you and the Doctor, attempting to crawl up your shins. They made little sounds of excitement, not quite a bark, but close enough, and you instantly fell in love with them.

“Awh!” You swooned, kneeling down so the small creatures could finally make their way up you. You’d learned early on to only be afraid of things if the Doctor appeared to be afraid of it—or if it was threatening you with weaponry, or violence. The Doctor never really seemed afraid of that. “What are they?”

“Tricos,” the Doctor huffed, crouching down so he was lower, but not quite at an angle for the little creatures to crawl on him. “They’re easily domesticated creatures, but are more-so viewed as nuisances by the locals.”

You frowned, looking down at all the little faces. They didn’t act much different than puppies on earth would. “Why do the locals not like them? They’re like little dragon-dogs—look at how cute!” You grabbed the blue and white one under the arms and hoisted him up for the Doctor to see his face.

“Well,” the Doctor clicked his tongue, crinkling his nose at the little Trico, “They’re scavengers. Like earth raccoons and rodents. Besides, they don’t quite have the intelligence for violence, so they’re pretty low on the food chain. Some locals have domesticated them, but lots don’t want to put in the effort.”

“Well,” you stuck your bottom lip out in a pout, “I like them.”

“I know,” the Doctor’s smile was small, his hand reaching out to stoke one of the Trico’s backs, before he was standing up again, “well, c’mon then. We can stay here all day. There’s things to be done.”

You pouted, taking the Trico’s off your lap one by one, petting them before settling them on the ground before you were standing as well, ducting yourself off. You looked back at them, frowning as you waved before you followed after the Doctor.

It was only when you were tucked away in your room that evening, surrounded by Teddy, Saidy and Hunny that you noticed the sweater you’d shrugged off and tossed onto your bed shift as if something was in it. You froze, watching the sweater move, as the dogs around you growled—Teddy being the only one confident enough to draw closer.

Your heart stopped for just a second as Teddy sniffed the sweater, only to cry out in surprise as the little blue and white Trico’s head peeked out from under the folds of the sweater, tiny tail wagging against the weight of the sweater.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you laughed away the fear, sliding off the bed to kneel beside the sweater. The Trico’s nose pushed into your cheek, before it gave you a lick like earth dogs did when they liked someone. “Have you been hanging on all day?” You asked, knowing the creature wouldn’t respond now that his attention was locked onto Teddy, who was reversing cautiously towards the girls.

“It’s alright,” you hushed the dogs, offering your palm to the Trico; the little creature didn’t hesitate for a second before pulling himself up, tail whipping back and forth happily as he did so—and you could see a bit of the lack of intelligent the Doctor had mention, but it just warmed your heart. “It’s okay.”

The dogs took the evening to get used to the little Trico who you named Gizmo. You’s fallen asleep boxed in by German Rotties, with Teddy tucked against your side, and the tiny little Trico snuggled up on your chest.

That following morning, you found a book on Trico knowledge and care instructions on your bedside table and whispered a hushed thank you to the TARDIS as you propped it open and read about the newest addition to your dog pack.

----

After the Trico, you weren’t entirely sure how you’d managed to find Chloe, Bella and Cohen. They were a package deal, Chloe, an older Pitbull, who’d trailed behind you, hesitant but trusting all the same as if you gave off some kind of calming pheromone that attracted dogs in need. She walked slow with Bella and Cohen following behind her like ducklings.

Bella was a French bulldog, and you weren’t entirely sure why someone would abandon such an expensive dog so young, but you’d taken her in easily. Cohen was the smallest of the three, a chihuahua mix that pressed in tight against the Pitbull.

They were all strays down on earth, and you’d just happened to stumble upon them while the Doctor was chasing some alien criminal around for the safety of earth. You almost felt bad sneaking away to lead the trio of dogs into the TARDIS where she welcomed them with open arms, and three additional dog bowls, and a huge cushion that the three of them could curl up on.

“I knew you were up to something,” You spun quickly, mouth dropped in a hurried attempt to get something out as the Doctor stood with his arms crossed in the doorway, scowl on his face.

Before you could say anything, your bedroom door slammed shut, much to your own surprise, and the Doctor’s as well, who you could hear jumping back in shock.

“TARDIS,” you gasped, attention shooting up to the ceiling.

“(Y/N),” The Doctor’s voice travelled through the door, as the knob turned but wouldn’t open. “What in the world?”

You almost would’ve laughed if you weren’t busy ushering all the dogs into your adjoining bathroom and closing them in. You tried to make yourself look natural, standing awkwardly in front of your bathroom door, and it was only then that your bedroom door finally open, the Doctor stumbling in like it had pushed open as he’d been leaning on it.

“What,” he gasped out as he tried to regain his footings, “is going on here?”

“Nothing,” you squeaked out.

You’d known that at some point you wouldn’t be able to hide the dogs anymore. You knew the Doctor was clever, and you were actually a bit surprised it had taken him this long to figure you out. But that didn’t mean you weren’t afraid that it was happening now—you'd been holding on the idea that it would happen eventually.

The Doctor stepped more into the room so he couldn’t be locked out again, where he eyed everything in your room, his gaze settled on the dog beds and food bowls. His gaze raised from the beds and dishes to your face, where his features were unreadable.

He was a smart man, so he obviously knew what he was looking at when he asked: “what’s all this?”

You couldn’t seem to come up with a logical explanation besides the truth. But you still stuttered over your words.

“What’s in the bathroom?” the Doctor asked calmly, stepping closer to you, as you stepped back, blocking the bathroom door more urgently.

“W-what bathroom?” You asked dumbly, but to your surprise, the Doctor’s eyebrows shot up as he angled his head to look around you. You turned to look back at the door, stumbling away as you blinked at the now vacant bathroom entry. You gaped, glancing towards the ceiling before focusing back on where the bathroom should be.

The TARDIS never ceased to amaze you.

The Doctor’s face was pressed into a look of uncertainty as he stared at where the bathroom door should be. It was the most shocked you’d seen the Doctor in all the time you’d known him. His gaze fluttered in your direction, where his eyes narrowed on your shoulder, “that’s a Trico on your shoulder.”

It wasn’t a question. You hand flew up, where it indeed settled on the tiny little creature. You groaned aloud as Gizmo made a similar noise. You should’ve known he was going to cling to your clothes as you tried to get them all into the bathroom—that was how he found himself a home here.

“I knew I heard barking,” the Doctor’s eyes blinked rapidly like he was trying to understand, “and it certainly wasn’t him—” the Doctor’s gaze settled on the Trico, “what else do you have in here?”

You let out a long sigh, moving towards where the bathroom door should be. “The jig is up,” you called loudly, and almost immediately; the bathroom door was back. You ignored the mystified look on the Doctor’s face as you pulled the door open and the dogs all trotted out, barely batting an eye at the Doctor’s shock.

“You’ve brought dogs into my TARDIS,” the Doctor had a distant look in his eyes, “my TARDIS helped you hide these dogs from me. How did you turn my TARDIS against me?”

“I didn’t turn her against you,” you huffed, voice bordering on annoyed, “she just has a soft spot for dogs, I guess.”

You instantly felt bad, swallowing before you mended your words, “it really did start with just one, and then... well, how can you say no to them? Look at their little faces. And... I think the TARDIS really likes them too, because she’s been helping me out.”

“You stole a Trico--”

“Hey!” You frowned, “technically, the Trico stole himself. I didn’t know he was clinging to my sweater when we returned, he was just there. Look... I’m sorry.”

The dogs had all mad their way up to the bed, laying and watching the exchange. The little Trico though, refused to move from your shoulder. “They all just needed a place to be, like... like I did too when you found me. Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not,” the Doctor’s voice was low, “frankly, I’m just a bit confused about why the TARDIS is so keen on these pets.”

“She’s a dog person—err, uhm, a dog time and space machine?”

The Doctor let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I suppose she is. She’s always had a soft spot for misfits.”

The Doctor doesn’t look unhappy, or upset. He looks thoughtful as his gaze sweeps over the dogs, lingering on both you and the Trico before he’d looking back to the earth dogs, “quite the collection.”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “so, uh, can we... can we keep them?”

“How long have they been here?”

“Teddy- the uh, the little white one- has been here about a month. Since that earth visit.”

“A month,” the Doctor’s face scrunched up, almost in disbelief, “I don’t see why not then. I doubt I have to tell you they’re your responsibility, which I’m sure isn’t a problem considering they already have been for an upwards of a month, right?”

“The TARDIS has been helping too,” you remind, smile slowly crawling onto your face.

“I’m only allowing this because the TARDIS is so keen,” the Doctor informs, but you can see through his words. He always has a hard time saying no to you, the TARDIS just sealed the deal for him. “You’re lucky I love you,” his gaze casts upwards and his smile appears a little crooked, “the both of you.”

<><><><>

Trico is the name of the Last Guardian, who wasn’t quite the inspiration behind the hybrid alien dogs, but I was picturing them looking a bit like Trico as I was writing. Body wise, at least, and I’m awful at naming things, and thought Trico would be a cool species name :). I thought an alien dog would be fun, since they travel space lol

As always, if this wasn’t what you were looking for, feel free to prompt again! I hope you enjoyed, because I really enjoyed writing this one :D Thanks for taking the time to prompt, and to read my writing, it means a lot!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #ten #10 #doctor who 2005 #doctor who #TARDIS #fanfiction #fanfic #writing prompt #writing requests #dw

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babytaes · 3 years

Text

†hê Ðêmðñ (the beauty of sin)

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You're a guardian angel who's never been tasked with protecting anyone. Since you've been here since Creation, sitting around in heaven hasn't brought you any rewards. You were looking forward to the day when you'd be assigned a human to look after. When that day finally arrives, things take an unexpected turn when you are assigned to Heeseung, a demon from the underworld.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: heeseung x female reader

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst, suggestive/smut

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 4k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: profanity, smut scenes, bad boy heeseung (lol),

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: click me before reading!

➳ part of the drunk & dazed series

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

Sin is a spiritual virus that invades the whole being. It makes you morally and spiritually weak. It’s a deadly disease that infects every part of you: your body, your mind, your emotions, and your motives—absolutely everything. Nobody has the strength on their own to overcome its power.

Nobody should ever commit sin, never giving in to their worldly and sinful impulses. It's unjust and wrong. However, what is it about sin that makes it so fascinating and enjoyable?

It gave you joy to see it in his smile or the way his hands caressed your body. What a lovely thing sin is!

Even though some sins are innocent and enjoyable, sometimes regulations are supposed to be broken. Everyone, after all, is a sinner.

“WHAT!?,?” You began to sweat as you worriedly communicated your concerns to your overseer, “You must be mistaken, High Lord.”

“I understand the protocol; angels are supposed to serve as "guardian angels" to beautiful or broken souls on Earth. You know we're expected to look after them and keep an eye on them to make sure they stay on track. With all due respect, ma'am, I don't believe I'm qualified for this position; at the very least, someone of level 10 would be ideal.”

Her cream-colored wings swept her off her feet as she chuckled and waved for you to follow her. You sighed as you flutter up and away with her, trailing behind her, feeling a twitch in yours.

As you eventually caught up to her, dodging angels left and right, you apologized to random angels in your path, uncomfortably smiled at the people you bumped into with your wings.

You retracted your wings closer to you and walked uneasily beside your overseer as you carefully stepped down on the golden road.

Before you could say anything, she quietly took your hand in hers and gently kissed it, assuring you that everything would be alright. As you approached the center of the commotion, you bit your lower lip and remained silent.

Looking around at the community, it warmed your heart to see so many people, young and old, out here. Some you've known since the beginning of time, while others were born only last week. Everyone had gathered to witness the masterpiece that would emerge in an instant.

“You know Y/N I have complete faith in you that this first expedition will be a breeze,” you smiled, looking up at her with excitement and a tinge of fear in your eyes. “We wouldn't have suggested you for the job unless we knew who you really are, and you've earned it.” Don't worry, you were expecting this; now have a look.”

With her finger pointing to the stage forward, you were treated to yet another spectacular show. They're known as the "Grand Turning" in Heaven. This is where a new or seasoned angel has completed his or her training with a human or demon and earned their proper place in the community.

It could be a badge, a ribbon, or something more unique, such as the opportunity to talk with the all-powerful, our God.

Despite the fact that you were assigned to him, you were determined to get those jobs because they were the only way for you to ever get that honor. You weren't going to allow Mr. Unperfect take away that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Nobody could and will ever be able to make you fail this assignment; you were meticulously prepped. You were taught the correct and only way to do things, and now was your opportunity to shine. You were not going to be a Lucifer, cast from Heaven

“I'll do it,” you said to your supervisor, a smile on your face and confidence in your eyes. She turned to face you and hugged you passionately, rubbing your wings with a motherly devotion.

“I knew you could do it; now it's time to get you ready.”

---

When people have a near-death experience, they always remark that life flashes before their eyes. Unfortunately for angels, it's the contrary; when we're approached with a high-alert danger or warning, it's more of a gentle whisper in our ears. Normally more attentive while traveling to Earth.

The best place to be humans say.. What is with these fickle minded words?

You take a deep breath and turn to face your overseer, who is polishing her wings to ensure that they are kept in order. When having wings, a routine is taught from the beginning to keep them in a good up do. Nobody wants to look simple when you can look stunning.

She took your hand in hers and walked toward the end of the route, issuing some documents to the Pearl City Gate guards. You noticed the circular orb while glancing around.

"How can some humans believe in the world being flat, we literally have an air-like view. To me, it's definitely round.” She chuckled as she pinched your cheeks and turned your puzzled face to her.

“When you get down to earth, you'll see a lot of that, people with a lot of opinions. But what did you learn in your training?”

Standing up and smoothing your wings, you calmly shouted out the words as if they were written on the back of your palm.

“Although humans are the destroyers of their own precious planet, everyone's opinion matters, regardless of race, gender, or identity.”

“Well, not all,” you began scratching your head, “I've seen some harsh individuals in our study books, God should strike them down-“

“Um no ma'am, let us put it aside for the time being and focus on what needs to be done.” She started going over a list of laws and regulations for your descent to Earth. As you gave her a thumbs up, you were attentively listening and mentally bookmarking everything in their designated area.

I believe I have a good understanding of everything, and I think I am prepared.” She offered you a short hug before letting you go, showing her affection for you. You were going to miss her, despite the fact that it was a mutually-surface relationship.

“Last but not least, this ordeal will be different in that people will be able to see you. But if you have to use your wings, the lad is the only one who can see you. When you arrive, he will be waiting for you. My child, best of luck and may God bless you.”

You let go of her and moved toward the road's edge, gripping your bag as you turned to face her and waved farewell as you stepped over the brink.

“Wait a minute, what if-“

When you felt a push from behind, you tumbled off the ledge and spun around in the sky, where you saw a smiling face as you glanced up. They didn't tell you that you'd have to be pushed. As you plunged to Earth, you closed your eyes, terrified. Oh, how nice.

Screaming, you descended into the atmosphere, your narrowed eyes seeing glimpses of land here and there. Not letting up you let your wings cover your whole body as you plopped down onto soft green grass.

You peered out from your wings, gasping for air, and glanced up.

“Oh, Heavens”

His physique was slender, active, and well-groomed, with a trace of bad boy behavior in his scent. The first thing that struck your eye were the rips in his jeans. How could a man-made mistake seem to be so appealing? As you raised your eyes, you noticed tattoos splattered across his arms and up to his neck. His black velvet-like wings fluttering in the breeze, he raised his palm to his hair and stroked through the old curls, deconstructing the pattern they had once formed.

“Did you just pull a Lucifer or was this all planned?” he coughed as he put out his hand to you, taking a good look at you.

Stuttering in your words you quickly got up and patted yourself off and finally looked him in the eyes, noticing his dark eyes.

“Well, that wasn't supposed to happen, I hoped to fly down here and appear more Angel-like, but I think my overseer had other ideas.”

He said, "Ah," with a bored expression on his face.

“My name is Heeseung, and if you don't mind, I assume you don't.” I guess my name is well-known in Heaven. You're probably the fifth Angel who has appeared in the last year to “assist me.” What a load of bullshit; you can't hide what's already there, you know.”

He made a pouty look as he smirked closer to you before covering his hand with his mouth and saying, “oh forgive me, I suppose I have a potty mouth.”

Panicking at this new light, you smiled and coughed loudly and suddenly, “Before you say anything else, I'd want to inform you that I'm not like those angels we don't talk about. I have a holy standard that I adhere to.

He rushed to your face, rolling his eyes at your innocence, and murmured to you, "well see about that little Ms. Purity."

As you moved back and shook your head, spurring out prayers, you tugged the strings of your bag close to you, seeming irritated. Looking up, you noticed him hovering in mid-air with his arms crossed, waiting for you.

“Whether you're coming or not, I'm in the mood for a cup of coffee. Allow me to go fetch you one so that this whole ordeal between us may be over soon and we can both return to our respective worlds.”

You instantly snap open your wings and shot up into the sky, scoffing at his rudeness, and dash by him, racing to the left.

“It's this way, dummy,” he cackled as he immediately shot out. Embarrassed and annoyed, you flipped over to his side and flew alongside him, praying to the Lord for peace as your rage subsided.

“Lord, so help me”

---

“So, what's on the agenda, Ms. Purity? There are a lot of things I'd want to do with you. You know, if you just ditch this whole act, we might be able to have some fun. He winked at you as he sipped his drink while peering across the table.

You shook your head and chuckled, gagging at his remark, "You must get all the girls, you appear really, what's the word, competent" I'm astonished since I assumed everyone down under was inept.”

He smirked and crossed his legs as he lay startled in his chair, cocking his head to the side. It's not that you were trying to be mean; it's just what you were taught. There are no hard feelings.

“Well, as much as I'd like to keep this delightful little date going, I have a commitment to fulfill. You know, duty calls.” You quickly got up and hurried after him, confused as to where he was going, as he shot up in the air and chuckled, waving farewell to you.

“Wait, Heeseung, you can't just go away like that. We need to figure out how I'm going to find you. You're being impolite by getting up and leaving.” You made yourself look insane since you didn't realize no one could see him. You wouldn't want to be labeled as one of these Earthlings.

You beckoned him down, mentally terrified, “Please can you just come down for a damn second.” Your jaw dropped as you hurriedly covered your mouth. Heeseung's jaw dropped when he appeared in front of you, stunned.

“Gasp, I'm hearing a term I'm sure they don't say in Heaven. Hmm, I suppose the Earth changes people.” He went closer to your ear, his warm arm bouncing on your skin as he giggled, his lips inches away from yours.

“I've already entered my phone number into your phone; you do understand what a phone is, right?” Doesn't matter, I have to get somewhere, and you can locate me later. Okay, I'll see you later.” He swept up in the air and rushed over to the bridge as he vanished into the horizon, rushing out in a haste once more.

You sat back in the coffee chair, wiped your brow, and focused mentally and spiritually, pleading with the Lord for help and forgiveness. You had a feeling this mission was going to be a disaster.

Whining, you threw your hands in the air and sat face down on the table, groaning as you realized this trek. It's no surprise that these honors are well-deserved; it takes a lot of effort.

You cautiously lifted your head and faced the barista after hearing a soft tap on your table. She smiled at you as she set down a piece of paper. You scowled as you inspected the weird set of paper.

“What a jerk, he didn't just leave me to pay for both drinks.” With a shake of your head, you reached inside your bag and drew out a wallet. Your overseer informed you that many people like flaunting and spending their money, so she provided some for you just in case.

As you cleaned up, you began to mentally map out your route through town, mentally picturing the locations and navigating your way home. As you walked over to the cashier, you handed her some money and thanked her before heading out the door.

At the very least, you landed in a fantastic location. It was in the heart of South Korea, and the city was called Seoul, a wonderful metropolis to be sure. You were taught to master specific languages for specific tasks, so communicating wasn't a problem. Despite the fact that you were new in a strange place, you were determined to make the most of it. The first step was to return home and examine the situation.

How to manage Lee Heeseung.

Arriving at your small abode was an adventure in itself; it didn't take long for you to connect your GPS and get going. It was actually fairly pleasant and provided a change of scenery to enjoy. It's not quite Heaven, but it's still lovely. When you finally arrive at your destination, you look up to see a little, charming apartment in front of you.

They really went all out for you, and it's very much in your style. You'd felt right at home as soon as you stepped inside, as it was more modern and sophisticated.

To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing, but it felt good to have your own little place to do anything you wanted. You could get used to this, no wonder why humans never leave their house. Who would want to leave when you have everything here. Food, entertainment, and a BALCONY!!

As you finished exploring the apartment and basked in its magnificence, you laughed to yourself as you made your way to the couch, sinking into its coziness as sleep took over your mind and body.

*Crunch, thud, bang*

As you lurched forward, you flew up your wings in defense mode, trying to understand what you'd heard.

“Who's there? I have a weapon, and I'm not afraid to use it.”

When you hear a familiar giggle, you look up and see the attractive intruder. Walking over to you and snatching the pillow from your grasp he took your hand and pulled you over to the island where he had prepared some food.

As you took it all in, you smelt familiar scents and smiled, completely forgetting about it until you were reminded again.

“Wait, what are you doing in my apartment, and how did you get in?”

He began to remove some pots and pans from the stove while he placed some food on a platter, saying, "I have my methods."

“I'm not sure what you eat up there in Heaven, but I'm guessing it's all healthy and nutritious food.” You laughed and shook your hand in disbelief while shaking your head.

“I don’t think out of all places we would be eating so strictly. It's basically whatever you can get your hands on.. It's guaranteed to be better food than what you'll find in Hell.”

Pulling the dish away from him, you began to pick at the fries, popping one into your mouth and savoring the flavor, “not bad.”

He bowed in front of you, wiped the sweets from his brow, and returned to sit next to you, grabbing a dish and feeding himself some. As the night progressed, you told him the rundown for the next three months.

“So, despite the fact that you're definitely one of the worst jerks I've ever encountered. For this to function, we'll need to create certain ground rules.” Aiming a finger between you and him. “I'm not sure whether you've ever had to do anything for anyone else in your life, but it's all about serving people around here, and that's why I accepted this assignment. Even if you don't want to help yourself, I want to help you.”

As Heeseung shuffled around in his chair, avoiding eye contact with you, the atmosphere became tense.

“Harsh, but keep going.”

Smiling you continued as you tried to wrap your head around this complex creature.

“I understand that we are supposed to protect and guide you to do good, but it appears that we have progressed far beyond that, and we need to start at the source of your problem, which is most likely your heart or mind. What's going on in both?

As his words danced across your lips, he smirked and drew you closer to him.

“Now there's a secret.”

Smirking as your face felt warm, you cocked your head to the side and touched his shoulder before getting up and setting your dish in the sink, cleaning up as piercing eyes stabbed your back.

“I understand what you're thinking, and I've got it all under control.”

He approached you and said, "If you say so," as he put his head against your ear.

2 months later

Everything was certainly out of hand, and he was to blame. Your strategy not only failed, but it was only a matter of time until your overseer found out. And you didn’t want to end up like the last guy tossed from Heaven.

It wasn't all that bad, but who were you kidding, it was a disaster. It wasn't a major shift; rather, it was a series of modest changes. Things like accidentally cursing or hanging out with him at ungodly hours. You convinced yourself that everything was OK.

He drew you into your room and sat you down while hovering over you, gently caressing your body and kissing you.

You smiled and drew him closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist and bringing him down on you, closing the distance between you.

Heeseung has been on a mission to damage your "innocent demeanor" for the past two weeks. He intended to show you that it was all a charade and that no one is actually perfect. Despite not knowing what he was going to do, you were up for the challenge. That core part of you didn't take long to succumb to his immoral impulses.

What was the problem as long as you were both happy?

“Heeseung,” you say as he draws you closer to him and unclasps your bra with his free hand. As you slowly rise to assist him, you toss the material to the ground and reach for his sweatpants.

“Someone a little needy, but we are not doing that today. Today is all about pampering my lovely angel. Is it all right?”

Nodding your head, you keep an eye on him as he goes between your legs, halting at the bottom as he eyes your breast and grasps softly as your body adjusts.

“Hurry up,” you grumble as you stare at his sinister grin. As you moan, he places gentle lips along your folds, leaning down to your core. As you twitch under his touch, his finger makes a fast dive between your folds, inciting dampness.

As you whine from the pressure, your eyes flutter shut as he switches his finger out with his tongue, softly licking up your surface.

“mm, close,” you exclaim, your lips wide open as he notices your clit, tongue flicking lustfully against it. As he presses harder on your sensitive region, he laughs as you break apart under his power.

“Oh God, right there.”

“Please don't involve Him in this.” He hits a place as your high comes crashing down on you, chuckling at your reaction. Heeseung is holding you down and watching you quiver wildly as you release juice, which causes him to swallow it before wiping his mouth. As you fall onto his body, overwhelmed and still sensitive to the sensation, he pulls you up.

He lays your exhausted body next to his and wipes any excess arousal from his mouth before kissing your lips.

You both lay in a comfortable stillness for the remainder of the night, your breathing slowly returning to normal as you sign into his arms.

“Perhaps you're right; we're all just horny, messed-up creatures; I mean, even though what we're doing is completely wrong, it was fun to break the rules. My entire life has been focused on doing the right thing and being this upstanding angel. It's fun to deviate from the norm.” As Heeseung witnessed you erupt in rage, you became agitated.

“You’re cute when you’re mad, also I told you.” You both chuckled as you pushed him to the side before coming to a halt in the middle of your conversation, looking concerned at him.

“However, I leave tomorrow and I don't think I'll be ready to see you off, and this was not in my plan.”

“Shhh, I figured it out; just stick to my plan and we'll both come out on top.”

You sat closer to him, nodding your head and clasping your hand in his as you allowed sleep to take over your body.

As you may know, angels and humans have quite distinct punishments; some humans are never punished for their wrongdoings, whereas angels' actions are usually discovered one way or another.

And you were terrified that they would find out. The person who fell from the edge was not the same person who was returning back and everyone was going to know it. Just not right now, you had to maintain your composure as you approached your overseer.

As you were greeted with the overseer and some guards, you held Heeseung by his chains and whispered something into his ear.

“I see you were having a good time?” You shook your head and looked down, worried. You looked up at her with sad eyes.

“Yes, High Lord, I am aware of my error and what needs to be done in order to be purified once more. I accept complete responsibility for this assignment, but I crack him first, and we have all the secrets we need.”

As he observed you return to the opposite side with the overseer, Heeseung's gaze shifted up in fright. Fearing for his life, he flailed his wings in an attempt to flee.

“What the hell, Y/N, I thought we were on the same team.” How could you betray me in such a way?” You walked over to his trembling body and pushed him down so you were above him, laughing loudly. You patted his shoulder as you cackled.

“And they said angels could be trustworthy. I know what I'm worth, and it has nothing to do with you. Heseeung, please accept my apologies. Get him out of here.” The guards grabbed his chains and dragged him to a chamber across the room from you.

As she began to compliment you on your efforts, the supervisor wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“I'm proud of you, Y/N, even though you used some terrible techniques. I knew you'd be able to pull it off.”

You grinned joyously and thanked her for her faith in you as you looked up at her face. You cast another peek at Heeseung as she stepped forward, and he winked at you. Smirking before he disappeared into the room you chuckled at his behavior.

Everything was going swimmingly, and no one had a clue. I suppose taking over Heaven would be a simple task; if you can blow up the inside, everything will fall apart on its own.

"How could you hide this from all of us?" "Oh God, you underestimated me."

The Beauty of Sin.

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

➳ Navigate to the Maze

#enhypen #enhypen writers #enhypen series #enhypen angst #enhypen suggestive #enhypen smut #lee heeseung #heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enhypen lee heeseung #enhypen reactions #en-#kpop au #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen masterlist #babytaes works

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justice4canyonmoon · 3 years

Text

An Evening Off

Summary: Both Y/n and Harry have a rare night off. Y/n has relaxing plans for how they should spend it.

Notes: Howdy! This is probably the last fic I’m going to post for the next two weeks; I have finals for college next week, and I have a fuck ton of work this week because professors love to give students everything at once 🙃 Anyway, I came up with the very fluffy concept because I crave emotional intimacy, so I hope you like it!!!!

Warnings: cursing ig. otherwise just a lot of fluff and taking a bath together 🥰

WC: 1.9k

Y/n was feeling lonely.

Her boring ass office job didn’t produce too many friends for her. While the people she worked with weren’t the absolute worst, they were just, well, bland. Their lives were cookie-cutter. The closest thing any of them had experienced to a true adventure was a trip to IKEA. Her two best friends, Maria and José, were across the country, since she had moved from one coast to another to live with her boyfriend. Sure, she could FaceTime them, but it just wasn’t the same. And after the call, she knew she’d just be more lonely than before.

Harry wasn’t an option either. He was working, far too hard for her liking. She understood, of course; it was album crunch time. He had to make all of the last minute decisions: finalizing the tracklist, photoshoots, and touch-ups on the chosen tracks in the studio. But she missed him. The only times she saw him anymore was right before bed, when he would stumble into the room sleepily and kiss her forehead before going right to sleep. So yeah, she was a bit lonely. And being alone on her day off wasn’t exactly the plans she wanted to have.

Luckily, the universe decided to answer her pleas. At around 1:00, after she had finished up a late shower, her phone buzzed with a text from her beloved.

H: Hi, baby! The only thing we have left on the agenda today is touching up a couple of the album tracks, so I should be home a bit earlier :D If you’d like, I can pick up some dinner on the way home.

She couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across her face. For the first time in ages, the two of them could finally have some time together! Maybe she could do something nice for him! He had been working so hard lately, he deserved it. And honestly, she did, too. An idea popped into her head, and she threw open the bathroom closet, taking a look through her bath supplies. She grinned triumphantly as she pulled out a citrus bath bomb, knowing that Harry enjoyed the calming scent of orange and lemon. A nice bath would not only help Harry destress, but it would also be the perfect cure to the loneliness that was settling in her heart. She quickly texted Harry a reply as she set the bath bomb aside.

Y/n: Sorry about the wait, babe, was just taking a shower. Forgot to this morning lol

He answered pretty much right away, making her smile.

H: It’s okay, baby! No need for apologies :)

Y/n: Okay! I’m excited to actually get to spend some time with you! I could really go for curry, if you’re up for Indian takeout.

H: Curry sounds good to me! I’ll probably be home between 6 or 7! I have to go now, but I can’t wait to see you :) I love you so much!!!!

Y/n: Can’t wait to see you, either, Har!!! I love you, too 💕💕

“Baby, ‘m home!”

Y/n looked at the clock. It was 7:30, a bit later than what Harry had said through text, but still much earlier than usual. She leapt up from the couch and sprinted to the front door, tackling Harry in a hug. He laughed loudly and wound his free arm around her waist, not fully able to hug her back because of the takeout bag in his arms.

“Let me put the food down so I can give y’ a proper hug.”

She let go with a small pout on her face, which Harry promptly kissed off while setting the bag down. He then wrapped her in a tight, two-armed embrace. She melted at the contact, resting her head on his chest and hugging him back just as tightly. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then rested his head on top of hers.

“Miss you, Har,” she said, her speech slightly muffled from talking into his t-shirt.

She could feel him frown against her hair, “I miss y’ too, Y/n. The album should be done by the end of the month, and then ‘m all yours until tour starts.”

“Good. I was gonna break into the studio and steal you back myself if you weren’t done soon.”

He chuckled, “I don’ think Jeff would like that very much.”

“Fuck Jeff! I need you back here,” she scoffed.

“I certainly hope y’ don’ want t’ fuck Jeff.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re annoying.”

He grinned cheekily, “But yet y’ still here.”

“Lord only knows why,” Y/n grumbled, though there was a smile on her face.

They pulled away reluctantly, both realizing how hungry they were. The two chowed down on chicken curry and naan while chatting about their day. Y/n spent most of her day off watching The Great British Bake-Off and snuggling with Daiquiri, their black lab. Harry had been putting the finishing touches on three of the album songs (“I can’ wait to play them f’ y’, baby”), and ranted about the traffic coming home (“I would’ve gotten home 45 minutes earlier, but the freeway was ridiculously clogged up!”). It was domestic in a way that Y/n never thought she would have, and she loved every second of it.

When everything from dinner was cleaned up, Y/n figured now was as good a time as any to reveal her plans for the rest of their evening.

“Hey, Har,” she paused, then continued when she heard his hum of acknowledgment, “would you want to take a bath with me?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Is this a ploy t’ get me naked?”

“No,” Y/n said bashfully, “I just thought it would be nice to take a bath together. I found a citrus bath bomb at the back of the closet, and I thought it would be relaxing for us.”

Harry’s eyes softened and he smiled gently at her, “That sounds perfect, love. Y’ too sweet.”

The two made their way to the bathroom, hand in hand. Y/n plucked the bath bomb from the closet and laid it in the tub, turning on the warm water. The water became a pastel shade of yellow, reflecting the lemony scent of the bath bomb. As she was checking the temperature, a pair of tattooed arms wrapped around her waist, and a kiss was pressed to her cheek. The heat radiating off of his body led her to believe that Harry had already rid himself of his clothes. When she turned around, her suspicions were confirmed.

“You work fast,” she commented, making a humming sound when the temperature was to her satisfaction.

“A bit,” he confirmed, leaning over to turn off the nozzle “just wanna take a bath with y’, love. Speaking of, let’s get those pesky clothes off of y’, shall we?”

Y/n nodded and Harry reached forward, almost reverently lifting her (his) sweatshirt over her head. She shimmied out of her leggings and removed her undergarments. She stepped into the bath first, gesturing for him to follow. He obeyed, and sat between her legs, resting his head on her shoulder. The two sat in silence for a while, basking in each other’s company. Y/n couldn’t remember a time where she had felt this at peace. But she also knew that Harry had forgotten to shower that morning since he was nearly late to the studio, so she reached over and grabbed some soap and a washcloth. She looked down at him and giggled softly when she realized he was almost asleep

“Wake up, baby,” she crooned, “let me wash you.”

“‘M awake,” he muttered, “promise.”

“Sure you are, that’s why your eyes are closed,” Y/n teased.

He only hummed in response, making her giggle again. She kissed his forehead and began washing him gently. The soft circles she was rubbing into his skin with the washcloth were soothing, and a sleepy smile made its way onto his face.

“‘Y always take such good care of me. Dunno how I got s’ lucky.”

Y/n felt her face grow warm as she reached for the shampoo, “I think I’m the lucky one. You always take care of me, too.”

She began rubbing the shampoo into his silky locks. Breathy gasps fell from his lips as she tugged lightly as his hair, working the shampoo into his curls.

“Feels s’ good,” he murmured.

“Glad you’re feeling good, Har,” Y/n replied in a hushed tone.

She rinsed his hair and repeated the process with the conditioner. By the time she had finished, Harry had fully fallen asleep on her shoulder. She cooed softly at how adorable he looked. He was like an angel; his long lashes were speckled with little water drops, his wet hair stuck to his forehead in an oddly endearing way, and a small smile was spread across his lips. He looked so relaxed in a way that Y/n hadn’t seen in a while. The bath helped her feel more at ease too; the monotonous motions of washing Harry made the stress from her job melt away, and the loneliness that had plagued her earlier in the day was washed away by the warm water. But she knew she had to wake Harry. She wasn’t quite strong enough to carry all six feet of him back to their bedroom.

Y/n gently jostled his shoulder and whispered, “Harry. Need you to wake up, baby.”

He groaned softly, making her giggle softly once more. His eyes slowly blinked open to reveal his jade irises, and he stumbled his way out of the tub, making her laugh a little harder as she followed. Y/n got out two towels and dried them both off, knowing that Harry was much too tired to do it on his own. She took his hand and walked toward their bedroom.

When they reached the bedroom, Y/n guided Harry to sit on the bed while she picked out sweats for both of them to wear to sleep (she knew that Harry had a particular fondness for when she wore his clothes to bed, so she got out his clothes for both of them). Harry pliantly moved his limbs as she clothed him, and watched her with moony eyes as she pulled on her own sleepwear.

“Look s’ pretty in m’ clothes, love,” he complimented, relishing in the shy smile that appeared on her face.

“Thank you, Har. Let’s get you to bed, okay?” she replied.

Y/n turned off the light and joined Harry on the bed. He was already lying on his side, so she wound her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. Usually, he was the big spoon, but with the whole mood they had set all night, it just felt right for her to be the one cuddling him. Y/n barely heard Harry mumble a “g’night. Love you,” before his breathing evened out. She smiled and closed her eyes, reflecting on the day. Just spending one evening with her boyfriend made her feel right as rain, and the loneliness that had once threatened to overtake her was totally gone. Though she had been taking care of him that night, he was also taking care of her. And sure, they were both going back to work tomorrow, but in two weeks, Harry would be done with the album and would be all hers. When sleep finally overtook her, all she had were the most pleasant of dreams.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine

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vampelune · 3 years

Text

hajime headcanons

i wrote these out for a cc anon but i wanna post em all in one place here

he has freckles and tans easy

i like trans ftm hajime . though i flip flop between cis hajime and trans hajime in my works haha. i rlly love him as trans tho.

he knows how to skateboard HAHA its one of the hobbies he still participates in at times. you would never guess by looking at him, though.

if he didn't get into hopes peak i swear on my life this dude wouldve been the business major in college who just picked that because he doesn't know what to do with his life & its the Default major for mfs who have no goals

he probably has lots of random knowledge about various hobbies and skills because he's tried to do so many and find his "talent", like knowing one or two songs on several instruments, knowing how to repair various utilities. he probably jumped through electives and clubs in middle school & high school. so i think hajime on his own would be a slight jack of all trades, master of none. But then he gets izuru'd and he really is a master of all trades.

as is canon he's one of those kids that fades into the background, so i bet he didn't have much of a social life. he seems like an overachiever kid, too, so he probably spent more time working and trying to find his talent than he did socializing. he probably only had unmemorable friends throughout school that didn't stick. though he does attract the attention of the sdr2 kids pretty hard, he probably had a LOT of friends. just people who came to him for help on studying, projects, etc, whatever. gets invited to some parties just because everyone kinda knows him, vaguely, and probably owes him for some help. but no close friends, no girlfriend or boyfriend. he'd be really inexperienced with close relationships by the time he meets the other sdr2 kids.

i actually like the idea that he hung out with sato & natsumi, you know, before all of that went under. i think in a non-despair au they could've been a good friend group.

really cookie cutter family. both parents working office jobs. he's emotionally detached from his family. loves them, but, there just never was the time or that big of an effort made on anyone's part to become really tight knit. he still has fond memories of his childhood, though.

kusamochi is his favorite food because it's traditionally eaten on new years. it's also one of the first foods he ever learned how to cook, with his extended family on new years. when he was younger, they would have gatherings with all extended family every new years, especially because it was hajime's birthday. but as he got older those happened less and less, and now, after everything, he still makes himself kusamochi every new years.

chiaki was his first real crush, but it was unrequited. since she was also kinda his first real friend, it was hard to differentiate between friend love and genuine crush. he knows now after everything it was probably the former, but he still loved her immensely, most than most things. even when she wasn't the best, or couldn't help him like he needed.

i think if he had a pet he would have a cat. a childhood cat he grew up with and passed away when he was in his teens, hasn't gotten a new one since because he's too focused on school & with his hopes peak workload, and his busy parents, there just wouldn't be time for caring for a pet. and i bet he would've named his cat mochi when he was little, because he liked kusamochi so much <33 sobs

post-dr3 hajime doesn't completely effortlessly use his talents, and with a lot of them, he needs to concentrate and think hard to focus and apply them. some things are reflexive, but others are more dormant. because of this, he can still get distracted and screw things up. when he does start using his talents, though, he goes more on the "izuru" side of his personality, very intense, a little scary from an outside perspective, and more cold and calculating.

he has days that are more izuru than others, since they're both him now, in essence. and because that's just, irreparable damage done onto your brain, he can have mood swings, bad days, even weeks, where he's much more cold and unfeeling. in these states, though, he tends to just work himself into a hole because it's all he can do, since that sense of "boredom" comes back on days like these. (like anhedonia, in depression. there's just some days like that, you know?) and the only one capable of helping him through these states is komaeda. (sorry, im slipping in my komahina agenda)

i kinda have a guilty pleasure for the headcanon that he grew taller from all the drugs and surgery they put him on during the project, especially because he was 18? so he still had room to grow taller. he's 5'10 in the nwp so i think 6'0 izuru/post-game hajime is, kinda hot. Though if you go by his localization height (5'8) then just put him right back up to 5'10 LOL

for the trans agenda, the reason he dislikes sakuramochi so much is because it's a treat typically eaten on "girls' day" in japan, and he always hated that day.

this isn't a headcanon. more of an observation, really. but i really dont like calling hajime "tsundere" because he doesn't fit that mold at all. he's dense & just comes off as blunt and rude, plus he's easily irritable. this isn't a tsundere trait, he isn't purposefully mean to hide his feelings for someone. he's just confused and doesn't even understand his own feelings most of the time, especially when it's a complex relationship like with nagito. if anything, hopes peak or ch4 nagito is more of a tsundere haha cuz he purposely is mean to hajime & talks down to him to hide his own feelings that is already aware of, because he's trying to force himself to stop caring after learning hes a talentless nobody & fell to despair.

#hajime hinata #danganronpa #kota.txt #izuru kamukura #nagito komaeda #chiaki nanami #sdr2

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houseboatisland · 3 years

Note

I'm rather curious for your own takes on Thom Thom~✨💙

Edit credit to @/ComradeOpThomas from Twitter, this is my ideal Thomas!

(Season 5 Thomas is the best Thomas, I don’t make the rules)

I started this hoping for it not to become a whole biography, but it just kept pouring out of me, so here's a very, very long post indeed lol

Thomas is NOT an L.B.S.C.R. E2 Class. He’s actually a unique design born to the North Western Railway in its earliest days… and in remarkably sad circumstances.

When the Railway Executive Committee first took over in August 1914, they were repulsed at the state of the Sudrian railways. Here were several argumentative companies operating in isolation from one another, with geriatric engines and stock, and one of them hadn't even run a train or maintained its permanent way since the start of the century. A key agenda item of the R.E.C.'s was a continuous, efficient railway system to quickly move men and materiel to the Island's eastern coast were Ireland to side with Kaiser Bill against John Bull. The existing standard gauge railways would have to be more or less torn up and rebuilt from scratch, and several new miles of track laid in to make for a single fluid network.

This required, among other things, many new engines. Several came over the Channel as and when could be spared by the Mainland, but as it became increasingly clear that the war would not be over "by Christmas," this wasn't an ideal long-term solution. The R.E.C. was especially upset that it had to put so many of its tender engines onto construction trains when their strength could be better used on other work. Two tank engines off the former Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, No. 1 "Short" and No. 2 "Stumpy" were by now nearing fifty years old, and exhausted mechanically.

The R.E.C., out to keep costs down and use resources to the fullest, ordered the N.W.R. to scrap these two engines and use the best parts of each to create one new engine. Measurements were taken, plans were hastily drawn up, and Short and Stumpy were quietly cut up in January 1915. Several fittings were made new for what odds and ends neither engine could contribute a usable part. The resulting new engine was "Thomas," who was put to work fresh off the shop floor.

Thomas at this point became the N.W.R.’s No. 1 quite by accident. He was the first engine to be built at Crovan’s Gate, and the REC misinterpreted this on his builder’s plates as an intention by the N.W.R. TO make him No. 1. So when Thomas gained his number, the R.E.C. and the N.W.R. both assumed this was deliberate by one another. And it was just too much of a hassle and too unimportant to change, so No. 1 he stayed.

As for his name, Thomas is named after Thomas Reginald Payne, the North Western Railway's first Chief Mechanical Engineer. Payne had made Thomas' construction a reality, from drawing up his blueprints to supervising his piecing together. Payne, who was CME from 1914 to his death in 1951, never forgot this connection to "his" engine, and often wanted to be on the shop floor whenever Thomas was in for repairs.

Thomas’ “infancy” was in a word, harsh. He was working around the clock, surrounded by engines who came and went, and did little if any socializing. Foremen were ordering him about at every turn. His first friend ever was the new N.W.R. No. 2, Edward, the former Wellsworth and Suddery Railway’s No. 5 and only tender engine, who knew his old crewmates were chopped up to make Thomas. Thankfully, Edward knew better than to let Thomas in on this, lest he give him some sort of existential crisis, and he made quick work of making himself a mentor to the little engine.

In these conditions, Thomas’ “cheeky” and anti-authoritarian streak took shape. His whole life thus far had been work and taking lumps from his superiors, most of whom were English and not Sudrian. This morphed into a disrespect for big engines, who wanted him to be their errand boy as construction work began to ebb and focus shifted to running trains. Ever the contrarian, Thomas only doubles down on his disrespect for tender engines when he finds out that that’s “the traditional order of things.” Edward is of course exempt from this attitude, but in his tensest moments Thomas can even lose patience with HIM momentarily.

The war finally ends. January 1919 sees the N.W.R. out to make an identity for itself as peacetime takes hold and Parliament quietly rumbles about Grouping or outright Nationalization. Thomas is the first engine to wear "Hatt Blue with Red Stripes," the company's planned standard livery. This isn't unique to him for long, however, and Thomas' new line of work from hereon is Station Pilot for Vicarstown. Needless to say this is upsetting to him. He's not moving up and down the Island like he was when building the railway. He's still rushed off his wheels. He's expected to be answerable to tender engines as he makes up their trains. Most importantly, he's still having as much difficulty as before to make time to make friends. This new job is in every respect everything Thomas could have wanted to avoid, and there's no telling if he'll ever even get out of it. January 1919 is thus where "Wants to See the World" Thomas begins.

Thomas still gets to see Edward regularly, and he is for a pinch joined by two other tank engines shunting at Vicarstown. They're also ex-Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, Nos. 3 and 4 "Edwin" and "Victor." Thomas befriends Victor, who is a friendly old joker, but dislikes Edwin who has become cranky in his old and as a 2-4-0T has a tendency to slip and not be of much help. They leave him too, in 1922, when The Fat Director relocates them to run other branchlines on the Island. So, 1922 onward, we meet Thomas as the sole pilot, thoroughly busy and thoroughly lonely.

This seems more or less canon, but The Fat Director probably sent Thomas to Wellsworth after his runaway with Edward's trucks in anticipation of giving him the Ffarquhar Branch once he was a matured engine. He didn't give Thomas the line just because he rescued James in fine style, that was really what made his mind up.

Thomas looks kindly enough on Henry as a big engine at this time, he and Edward as mentioned aren't necessarily the kinds of "Big Engines" he dislikes. He'll occasionally give him a tease or two, or lose patience with his health, (something he now deeply regrets years later,) but there's no real malice in it. Think of him as the little brother poking fun at his bigger brother for having one arm in a cast, but altogether still feeling sorry for him and accommodating him how he can. Henry for his part appreciates Thomas, but takes his teasing very seriously considering how sensitive and implicating it is to, you know, his whole existence.

My idea of Thomas' relationship with Gordon is heavily inspired by @/mean-scarlet-deceiver's: Thomas is initially awed by Gordon's arrival and finally confident the N.W.R. can survive, but quickly resents him when he shows his true colors as a "big engine" through and through. I wouldn't even call Gordon and Thomas "friendly" until their alliance at Toryreck Mine. From 1923 all the way up to then, depending on when you place it, they... legitimately dislike each other. There's no affection beneath all the ribbing and jibes, they ACTUALLY disliked each other that whole period of time.

I'm still hashing out my headcanon of 98462 and 87546, (just know that those aren't actually their numbers,) but it's safe to say Thomas hates their guts, and '62 and '46 hate his guts in return as a servant willing to speak up for himself.

Thomas and James were a couple from 1924 to 1933, when they broke up amid the Big Engine Strike. I'd really rather reserve this for a post of its own at a later date.

Thomas and Percy are good friends, but I wouldn't go so far as to call them "best friends" like the TVS has so often hammered in. They clearly come to blows whenever the tension's too much. I like to explain that away as a shift in Thomas' character. With him doing more passenger work as Percy and Toby handle the stone trains, and his increasing fame, Thomas begins looking down on Percy, not long after he transferred to Ffarquhar in 1955 in fact. This might also have to do with unresolved feelings between them both. (Hey, remember that little green engine you kissed once just to try it over twenty years ago? He's your roommate now, probably forever. Play nice!)

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yandere-sins · 4 years

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The Exception

My friend let me try playing Hades on her switch and well... I kinda liked it. Namely, I liked all the characters, so my brain went like “what if they were yandere” and I had an idea for this story that I threw together this morning before working on the Fox Wedding (: The latter isn’t done yet, but this sure is, so who knows, mayhaps some of you will enjoy it! Just tried to answer the question how we could get Thanatos to whisk us away.

Characters: Yandere!Thanatos x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Blood, War, Wounds/Impaling, Major Character Death (???) or well dying, I read into greek history for almost an hour but if I gotten something wrong then so be it

Thanatos had seen enough of the world to know that he didn't want to stay on the surface forever.

The current battle spreading before him was a mere reason to sigh deeply as he watched bodies fall left and right, their souls soon leaving to a better, or perhaps worse, place. It was mandatory he stayed, but Thanatos was well aware of which side was winning and which was losing. It was his duty and his work to know these things, even though it didn't make the fighting any less futile in his eyes.

Letting his gaze wander over the battlefield, he watched the red splatters on the ground, heard the crushing sounds of iron against iron and the cacophony of fearful and devastating screams. He still couldn't believe Zagreus would want to come to such a place. A place where there was futile fighting and too much light, but perhaps, it was a world that fit the Prince of the Underworld, as he was the same, even if Thanatos only recognized this fact bitterly.

Finally, the battle was closing in on its end, just like the hundreds of people that found their death because of it. The ones who weren't dead yet slowly but surely started to hesitate and retreat. Even as the personification of death, Thanatos reckoned that a pointless death was scary, even though so many humans chose it over desertion. Their death was inevitable, preordained by Thanatos sisters. Still, he had seen many hold on to the last sparks of hope that they could escape Thanatos' grasp.

And then, on the other side of the coin, were those that practically would have offered their life to Hades and fought to the end.

You weren't an exception. Yes, your quest and pride were your downfall, and by the gleam in your eyes Thanatos could tell you knew. You knew and recognized that you'd die. However, as if you were spiting him personally, you still continued to fight ahead of everyone else, gaining questioning glances from your comrades and contempt from your enemies, which you pulled to the ground one after another and sending them to hell.

Many before you had this overzealous compulsion to make that best out of their inevitable demise. Thanatos would admit that yes, most had a good reason for it, like saving their family or fighting for their own life. Others simply lucked out on the gift of pride and ignorance, forcing themselves and occasionally many more lives with them into the deep, dark pits of death.

What was your reason? Thanatos wondered.

He still had time before he needed to take action, he could allow himself a short - minuscule, really - different thought than his upcoming work, and you presented yourself so nicely to him as the incarnation of death waited for the end of today's battle. It wasn't often that he had the leisure to let his thoughts wander, so Thanatos intended to use these few seconds, which would fall under the radar, to still his curiosity.

By the looks of it, you weren't an inexperienced fighter. Or perhaps, you were just a farmer judging by your muscles. Surely, you seemed enthusiastic about your task, so were you fighting for something more significant than the glory of your country? Family? A loved one? Thanatos couldn't help but be curious about what your drive was, as he had seen so many reasons, yet they were all the same. Perhaps, yours was new?

Even so, you were graceful as you swung your sword around. What did he know about footwork, but at least, yours seemed to pay off as you weren't dead yet. When one of your foes managed to smack off your helmet, Thanatos believed that was it, but alas, you regained your strength, charging at the very same attacker.

In a way, fighting was like an elaborate play. The only difference was that neither of the parties knew the other one's move. The person reacting better was the winner. He couldn't find joy in watching wars, but even Thanatos had to admit that it was a joy watching you. Even if you lacked the enthusiasm as the heroic shades that lingered below, like Theseus, had, you fought a fight worth mentioning in the books as well.

Every move you made, Thanatos could see the calculations in your eyes, that keen shine reflecting in them. The sun seemed to break through the clouds just to reach out to you, making your armor sparkle in its rays. Yes, you were a formidable human, and Thanatos caught himself thinking that it was a shame you were fighting even if you looked so beautifully while doing it.

Taking another deep breath, he could see the swirls in the air left by it. While the winter wasn't affecting him, no matter how little clothes he wore, Thanatos felt a second of pitiful understanding for everyone who had to fight in those conditions. Undoubtedly, the cold armors, freezing hands and weapons, and frozen ground were another nemesis for every soldier out here. Even if their bodies stayed warm from adrenaline and running, it certainly was another reason many of your human bodies gave out quicker, merely submitting to their fate. It was fair enough for Thanatos. It meant his work was over faster, and judging by you being circled and the other soldiers at your side beginning to see the end coming towards them with long spears and sharp swords, it was all over soon.

You had fought bravely, that much he could give you. Perhaps you had impressed him enough to put in an unusual good word for you with Hypnos, who'd pass it on to Hades himself, granting you a shot on being put into Elysium. But your fate had long been decided, and as you fell to the ground, the battlefield erupted in victorious screams, announcing your time of death.

And also, his start of work.

As the winners retreated one after one, happy whenever they found a friend that survived too, Thanatos passed by them and onto the battlefield instead. Unseen by the human eye, he began his duty of reaping, one soul after the other, as mangled and frustrated over their death as they were, following his orders as he shushed them away. Usually, some pleaded and bargained with him for another shot of life, but even if Thanatos had wanted, there was no way for him to help them. But that day, everyone seemed awfully aware that there was no negotiating nor mercy waiting for them as they looked at his figure, frightened and frustrated. A pointless battle, with meaningless deaths, brought forth the self-pity in them, but this wasn't the first battle Thanatos tended to, so he felt nothing akin to that. It also wasn't his duty to take care of the souls gathered here, as it was Hermes' job to lead to them.

He had something very different on his agenda. You.

It was unfortunate for both of you, but when he reached you, you had yet to breathe your last breath. One eye slowly and in pain, opened, the other one damaged from the blow to the head you had received. However, as you looked at him, serene clarity laid in your gaze, and you recognized him, mayhaps by the giant scythe he carried around. Your stare was clear and less afraid than he expected you to be when acknowledging him, but you closed your eyes as a cough overcame you, hot, red blood dripping down your lips.

"Guess that's it," you croaked, and Thanatos could only stare. Conversing… wasn't his strong suit, and there wasn't exactly a reason to talk to you.

"Are you going to kill me?" you continued, undeterred by his silence, and Thanatos weighed his actions. "No, of course not," he eventually spoke, shaking his head slowly, the hood on his head shifting along to his movement.

"Ouch, that's cruel. You'll just wait until I die like this?"

Your words were nothing he hadn't heard before, and he didn't feel offended by them. However, he didn't expect your lips to briefly curl into a smile, adding a jesting notion to what you said. Even that wasn't new, but… it struck a chord inside the usual stoic bringer of death. "I can't end your suffering," Thanatos explained, hoping you'd simply know about the unspoken rule that he couldn't harm you.

"I think, I get it," you heaved, feeling worse by the minute. "You are just making sure I know I am supposed to die here."

That assumption wasn't wrong, even though there had been more playing into his service than just that. Too many kept trying to escape their fate, and sort of, Thanatos was just checking and cleaning up what would be left. You still had some time before your organs would fail and finally take you to the grave, different from the other souls that were already leaving for their new home.

"No, you will die here," he retorted firmly.

"I could," you chuckled, followed by another painful cough.

"Don't test me, Mortal."

In between deep breaths, you allowed yourself a short laugh. Just like him, you were probably aware that there was nothing worse that could happen to your situation, so his threat was just a way he hoped to shut you up with. In silence, he watched over you, until eventually, your eye opened up again. This time your gaze was searching for him - or something really - but your sight had already begun to cloud. No matter how proud and achieved you are in life, in the face of death, everyone looked the same.

"I think I did a good job. You know, fighting. Thought that if I already had to do it, I might as well give it my damn best."

More coughing. Thanatos watched the puddle of blood around you grow by the second. The spear inside your body must have been stirring up your insides the more you talked. Thanatos had expected something like this, you, young as you still were, had been led by the belief that doing your best could make up for the fact that you'd die. "But in the end, it was worth nothing, right? We lost after all."

Thanatos could only stare as he wondered what you expected him to say. He came here, knowing your life would end here, so really, the hope you had put into yourself didn't have the same disappointment to him now as it did to you. And yet, as he listened to you, seeing your body battered up with cuts and bruises, for the first time in centuries, he felt something akin to pity for you, and you specifically.

"Why did you fight then?" he asked, perhaps against your expectations.

"Why? Because they told us too. The King ordered us to fight this battle, and only he could have known how many soldiers our opponent would bring."

"You could have run." Thanatos tried to stay as detached from you as possible, though it didn't quite work, your words taking their influence on him. "Can you?" you retorted before letting out a long sigh. Death was near, literally as well as figuratively.

"Can you run from your duties? You don't have to do this either, do you?"

"I do--"

"Really?"

There was no immediate response this time, your question justified, despite your little mortal soul undoubtedly never understanding the burdens on the shoulders of Gods. The world would stop if they all decided to not continue their work and fulfill their duties and expectations. If Thanatos stopped, no one would die anymore, and but the suffering of everything would never disappear too.

"Dying sucks," you whispered, turning your head away.

"I reckon," he muttered indifferently. Not like he could talk about it from experience. It must be painful, dreadful, and, depending on the circumstances, frustrating too. Right now, though he couldn't imagine the extent, you must have felt so hopeless and so, so scared. There wasn't much other reason for your banter.

"Thanatos… I always thought it was a pretty name, even if everyone feared it." Regaining his attention after finding himself momentarily lost in thoughts, he looked down at you again, watching as your eyelid closed slowly. "Say what you want, but you can't blame them for fearing death, and alas, me."

"Perhaps if they talked to you, they wouldn't be so afraid."

"Meaning you don't feel so afraid anymore?"

A smile danced over your lips once more, a truly unusual sight for a soul so close to their end, and especially after talking to him. Hypnos often teased Thanatos with being too formal and dutiful to be amusing, and Hades beware, comforting. Though he didn't care for his twin's words, yours did make him feel... happy.

"Let's go then," you whispered, and Thanatos kneeled down, his hand falling to your wrist, listening to your pulse. Even with the feeling of your heart still desperately pumping blood through your body, only to lose it through your wounds, you didn't utter another word afterwards. You undoubtedly were dying, but perhaps, for now, you were merely unconscious as your lungs didn't stop reaching for air, and your heart used all your strength to function.

Once more, the sun broke through the clouds, shining down right at you two, bringing Thanatos into the predicament of being blinded as it reflected off your armor. Perhaps he understood it now. Understood how unfair it was that someone like you, innocent and kind, was doomed to die out here. How awful his job on this day was, forcing him to take you to Tartarus and put you before the judgment of the god residing there.

So what if... he didn't.

He couldn't heal your wounds, nor make you feel better. But what he could do is battle the fate, earn the scorn of many, but at least, even if he took out the spear from your bloody body, you'd live. You'd live to tell your tale, and who knew, even he could apply some bandages, so maybe you'd recover some.

It was a risk, and one Thanatos did not like taking, nor found pleasure in executing. But you couldn't refuse to come to this battle, whereas he, perhaps, after all these years, could refuse to do his job once. For your sake, and unbeknownst to him at that time, for his own even more.

His scythe disappeared in favor of Thanatos grabbing for the dreadful spear. Never before had he experience the kind of sound a wound could make from so close, and by the gods, he hoped he never would again. It was just your luck that you were unconscious, or the pain would have perhaps killed you faster than your wounds.

Leaning down, he scooped you up, his hand sullied with your blood and the dirt on the ground. The snow wasn't cold when he touched it, but your body was warm in his arms and still alive. Your threat of fade wasn't cut yet, and he wouldn't do it. With you in his arms, he stepped back, looking into your sleeping face before he retreated from the battlefield with a quiet, "Let's go."

No, the surface wasn't a place Thanatos liked to linger. It was too loud, too wrong, and too bright. But to see your smile, lively and happy, one more time, he didn't need to stay above ground. Where you were going, it was dark and, at times, lonely if you weren't a being born there. But you'd also be safe and alive for as long as you wished to.

And Thanatos would be with you, even if everyone would turn against him and his decision, for all eternity if he must.

#thanatos #thanatos hades #yandere thanatos #yandere!thanatos #hades #hades the game #yandere hades #yandere!hades #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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bloededhoine · 4 years

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world building cause twn doesn't part 9: mages

you probably know a lot about mages on account of them being fucking awesome and super sexy, so let's dive into what exactly makes them that way.

colour code cause i fucking love colour codes - already happened/introduced, probably s2, important background info, stuff that might be in the prequel, extras

series masterpost

what are mages?

put simply, mages are anyone skilled and educated in the use of magic. but, most mages are also incredibly adept in politics, science, and religion

the vast majority of mages serve on royal courts, but others are teachers, researchers, or just kinda hobos

anyone can use basic magic (ie witcher signs), but it takes both natural talent and extensive training to be an actual mage

also important to note that while druids and priests can and do use magic, they aren't usually considered mages since they're not as involved in politics and science

education

mages go to school! a lot! powerful mages tend to track down young potential students and bring them to a school to receive formal training

well, "bring them" is a bit reductive, it's more like kidnapping.

there are quite a few important schools, so let's go!

aretuza is definitely the one you are the most familiar with, mostly because it's just the best. aretuza is an all girls academy located in temeria, a northern kingdom known for its powerful mages

aretuza is led by a rectoress, an incredibly powerful sorceress responsible for training the young adepts. i think there's only been 4 ever, first klara larissa de winter (also the founder), then leticia charbonneau, then tissaia de vries (the milf right there, and rectoress as of twn), and finally margarita laux antille

ban ard is the boys version of aretuza, located in kaedwen. the magicians from ban ard are notably... unskilled? they're just kind of clowns. the rector of ban ard was gerhart of aelle, also known as hen gedymdeith, because there's nothing like a nonsensical pseudonym to up your credibility. gerhart was literally the oldest mage alive until his heart died. after him, dorregary of vole took over as rector

mages in the north are pretty much exclusively trained at either aretuza or ban ard, but nilfgaard has a magical academy too!

the imperial magic academy is a co-ed school in loc grim, one of nilfgaard's two capitals. the emperors of nilfgaard tend to hire mages directly from this school

types of mages

most mages tend to specialize in a certain area of magic, such as illusions, alchemy, divination, polymorphy, weaponry, or spycraft

this is extra useful when assembling a team. not that anyone in particular is assembling a team, it's just good to know.

the brotherhood of sorcerers

the brotherhood is the main organization of mages in the witcher. they basically set the rules of magic for all the mages in the north, which are that demonology, necromancy, and artifact compression are strictly not allowed. the punishment was exclusion from the brotherhood and being locked in dimeritium (mage kryptonite) for centuries, but practically no one followed the rules or was punished

the brotherhood exists on a hierarchy, with most mages in the north making up the lower level, the council of wizards in the middle, and the chapter of the gift and the art at the top

the council is made up of a small group of mages that hold influence over the brotherhood but still need to answer to the chapter, as of twn the members are yennefer of vengerberg, philippa eilhart, radcliffe, carduin, and fercart. sheala de tancarville was part of it too, but she left

the chapter has the highest influence of magic in the north (and possibly the continent). it was founded by herbert stammelford, aurora henson, ivo richert, agnes of glanville, geoffrey monk, and radmir of tor carnedd. by twn, all of them had died or left, so the chapter was made of tissaia de vries, enid an gleanna, gerhart of aelle, vilgefortz of roggeveen, and artaud terranova. narses de la roche was the grandmaster of the chapter in 1245, but wasn't that involved much after.

politics

after mages graduate, the brotherhood usually places them on the court of a king/queen as an advisor. they're supposed to help strategize, conduct research, and just heighten the magical abilities of a kingdom

do they do this? nope

most mages are meant to clean up their king's messes, but usually get fed up and rule the entire kingdom from behind the scenes to fit their own agendas

can mages have babies?

short answer: yeah! although magic can make it harder to have babies, lots of sorceresses would take extra care to make sure they were as unaffected as possible. the forced sterilization was tissaia de vries' idea, and since she trained the vast majority of sorceresses we meet, most of them can't have babies

and yes, it's irreversible. sorry yen

geralt's mum, visenna, was trained as a druid, so she was still able to have geralt while practicing magic

who are they?

we meet a Lot of mages, so let's get to know a couple, starting with the ladies!

let's start with the lovely lovely yennefer. she was trained at aretuza under tissaia de vries, who became a mother figure to her. yen was also the youngest member of the council, as of twn she's 90. yes, that's very young to have a position of that caliber, especially since yen wasn't even an official advisor to aedirn's king

we all know and love hate triss merigold. she's one of the youngest sorceresses we meet, at the first season of twn she's 40 (book canon, she's made older in the show). triss also studied at aretuza and is currently one of king foltest of temeria's court mages

sabrina glevissig. slutty sabrina (affectionate) was yennefer's classmate at aretuza and became advisor to king henselt of her native kaedwen.

fringilla vigo is supposedly yen and sabrina's classmate from aretuza, but she is actually quite a bit younger than both of them and went to the imperial academy in her home country nilfgaard. fringilla specializes in illusion magic and (in book canon) is really not evil. she's a little slutty and stupid, but so is sabrina and dandelion and about half the people we meet!

we see skelliger sorceress lytta neyd, aka coral, aka astrid lyttneyd ásgeirrfinnbjornsdottir, at the battle of sodden hill where she unfortunately dies. coral was also very fond of breaking the brotherhood's rule against article compression (magically turning a person into a jade figurine, a wholly unpleasant experience)

temerian sorceress keira metz is one of the youngest mages we meet, she's around the same age as triss, whom she serves on foltest's court alongside

i mentioned philippa eilhart as a member of the council, and i'll mention her again as the love of my life. philippa is old. like, over 300. she's also one of the only mages to master polymorphism, and spends a solid portion of her time as an owl. philippa is redanian king vizimir's official advisor, but she, along with trusted?? associate lover sigismund dijkstra, really rules the entire country with vizimir as a puppet

sheala de tancarville is yen and phil's colleague from the council, but she left because it got too realpolitik for her tastes. sheala's from creyden (same place as renfri), but very rarely served her country's interests in favour of researching magic and being a reclusive bookworm. i'm serious. her nickname is literally the recluse of kovir

tissaia de vries. easily one of the most powerful and respected mages on the continent, member of the chapter, current rectoress of aretuza, and general badass. like most scholars, she wasn't involved in politics and doesn't even have a known nationality.

francesca findabair, also known as enid an gleanna, is an elven sorceress and member of the chapter. by twn she's easily 150 and very well established, although a sufferer of chronic backstabber syndrome.

assire var anahid is one of fringilla's nilfgaardian besties, although neither are actually nilfgaardian. assire is our good friend cahir's great-aunt, a military expert, and mom to her cat merlin

onto the gents!

let's start with the worst, istredd! i for incel, s for stupid, t for testicle-less (once i find him), r for racist, e for ew, d for dead (again, once i find him), and d for dipshit. in twn he's in cahoots with equally disgusting sorcerer...

stregobor! *vomits* you remember him as the koviri sorcerer who loves tracking down and murdering young girls, many of which have been exiled from their homes and tortured. he's just a lovely guy.

vilgefortz of roggeveen is sort of a walking spoiler, so i won't go too much in depth about him, but we can know he was raised by druids and, when offered a magical education, refused. he then became a mercenary, then a spy, then a wanted man, and finally trained to become a mage. despite his unusual backstory and late start, vilgefortz was insanely talented and, at less than a century old, became a member of the most powerful group of mages on the continent.

i mentioned gerhart of aelle aka hen gedymdeithe, as the oldest mage alive. he's at least 500. and then some. he's also a member of the chapter, but this position is more of a courtesy than a meaningful addition to the brotherhood.

finishing up the chapter, we have artaud terranova. he's not important yet, but will probably be in season two. all you need to know is he's short and a little mean and trusted by vilgefortz

fercart of cidaris is the third (but only male and non-temerian) member of foltest's royal council, and fairly unimportant member of the council of wizards

carduin of lan exeter was advisor to koviri king esterad thyssen and member of the council. he was also one of radovid's advisors, which didn't go over too well as radovid's other advisor, philippa eilhart, doesn't share too well

last and sort of least, we have radcliffe of oxenfurt. he was advisor to demavend of aedirn, from whom he probably met yennefer.

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mobagehelllocal · 3 years

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“lucky ending” extra notes i & iii

Hi, I said I would do it but then I released ver i so long ago that I felt I shouldn't do this unless I had another version out at least so yay! finally! ... I'll add ver ii here when I get around to writing it... *shifty eyes* So as usual, this is just my thought process and ideas while writing lol.

*please do not read if you haven’t read “lucky ending” ver i (dorm leaders) & ver iii (rook & lilia).

It was inspired by an anon ask and the button tradition from Japanese schools.

The anon ask went like this: First at all, I like do much your writing and I hope you are doing well. Second, I was wondering what would happen if the MC (Fem!s/o I guess) decided to not go back to her world, like she decide stay with her villain? Can you do make headcanons of this for the dorm leaders? Thank you very much. – from Anonymous

The button tradition, as narrated by the first years, is done when one person confesses and the other responds by giving them the button closest to their heart. In most Japanese uniforms it’s the second uniform, but in Twisted Wonderland--I looked at the ceremonial robes and the closest button should be the fifth. Maybe. I could be wrong.

The songs I listened to while writing this!

The original dorm leaders (and Rook) was written while listening to “Lucky Ending”, the ending theme of Fruits Basket. The English lyrics (translated by otenkiame!) are:

“Change is important. I want to do it well,/ but I wanna cry. It's still bad. I wanna cry”

“The word "goodbye" has disappeared completely from this world/ All that remains is me fooling around next to you/A day you don't laugh won't come anymore”

“I've understood it since being here/ These feelings of wanting to protect you aren't a misunderstanding/ If we can call what connects us bonds,/ everything changes/ everybody changes/ Even if in a different world, it'll never be different/ everything changes/ everybody changes/ Don't change, ever/ Stay here, stay here”

I think it’s obvious why I chose to use this as the title of the series. It’s a story about change but it’s also a story about the things you don’t want to change... And I think it’s not wrong to want to hold onto things.

I also listened to the same playlist that I listened to while writing “wendy?” “hello peter pan”:

“Can’t help falling in love” cover by Annapantsu, “If you’re not the one” by David Beddingfield, “Who Knew” by P!nk and “All Too Well” by Taylor Swift.

For Lilia in particular, I was listening to three Beauty and the Beast songs on loop. “Evermore” by Josh Groban, “Days in the Sun” by the live action cast and, of course--”How does a moment last forever” by Celine Dion.

“How does a moment last forever?/ How can a story never die?/ It is love we must hold onto/ Never easy, but we try/ Sometimes our happiness is captured/ Somehow, our time and place stand still/ Love lives on inside our hearts and always will”

Also for Lilia, Tolerate It by Taylor Swift.

“You're so much older and wiser and I/ I wait by the door like I'm just a kid”

“I made you my temple, my mural, my sky/Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life”

Malleus was definitely the first piece finished. Closely followed by Vil’s. I believe there was a gap inbetween them before I did the others? I wrote bits and pieces of Leona, Idia, Kalim and Azul’s. I think I finished Leona, Idia, Kalim then Riddle because I distinctly remember saving Azul for last.

One of the most important things for me, is that each story stands distinct of each other. So I gave myself a really hard time trying to figure out how each one uniquely belonged to each of the characters.

For the Prologue... I think because it’s set at the graduation of certain characters, I used that to my advantage and implied the stronger bonds between the Yuu!Reader and the entirety of the cast. Because a lot of time has passed and I feel like--regardless of what other people believe, bonds will be made and relationships will have strengthened enough for it to happen.

Riddle is honestly another really difficult character for me to write. I generally do love him and I enjoy his story, but something about him is difficult and I’m not sure why.

I think a part of me is also really miffed because from Heartslabyul-Savanaclaw, you could feel that Riddle really cared for Yuu on some level but then he just straight up disappears come Octavinelle chapter. I feel like there was potential to develop their relationship even more.

He WENT UP AND TIED YOUR RIBBON I REMEMBER I WENT DOKI DOKI OVER THAT.

I feel like because I’ve established that it’s a Yuu!Reader, it’s impossible for this story to not include both Ace and Deuce. So of course they featured in really big roles for this one, being responsible for telling Riddle the story.

I have to thank my friend, Mes, for bouncing ideas with me. They were the one who suggested what I could do with Riddle’s story by having ADeuce play such a big part!

I also tried my hardest to include Trey and Cater, and I’m pretty happy with their cameo. In a way, they definitely helped Riddle figure out his own feelings for you.

My favourite lines are: “I think you earned that much. I don’t believe anyone’s ever been in your situation before so—there’s no right or wrong about what you’re doing. It’s all about what you want to do.”

I wish someone would tell this to Yuu in general though. They’re the only one who has ever been in their situation (to our knowledge at least) and like... they’re definitely allowed to be even more selfish.

Leona is someone who I used to dislike a lot. I never hid that. It’s primarily because of how disappointed I am in the story of Savanaclaw probably. But like, I was always concerned about writing him properly because I thought that it was only right that I did right by him, because there would be people reading these stories who loved him. And I felt like I had to do right by that love.

I think... it’s wrong to believe that characters... villains... cannot fall in love or “won’t fall in love.” I think it’s wrong also to think that “people don’t change for love.”

In fact, people do change. You definitely shouldn’t change yourself to be loved, but... people change all the time to be their “better” selves. So whose to say that a good person, who you love, will not make you want to improve yourself? Isn’t that what we want when we meet people? To fall in love with someone who will ultimately make you better and never worse.

Or so that’s how I try to write the Twisted characters when they fall in love... With an understanding that “morally” the person they are falling for is “kind” and “good” and how a part of them might just want to be better just for that person. (Especially Leona and Azul). They don’t necessarily have to be nice to everyone, but if they can be better for one person... We stan healthy character growth.

But yeah, Leona is driven by understanding that he’s a very selfish person. But that he’s also very unfortunate and he doesn’t want tie you with someone who, he thinks, is actually worthless. He probably, deeply, thinks you deserve more.

Though his selfishness eventually wins out and well... Won’t you forgive him for it? :) For tying you down to this worthless second prince?

I think his own self-awareness does make him try harder. Not for everyone or everything... but for you. Just for you. I think that would be Leona’s love language--spending time with you, trying for you.

He’d appreciate if you didn’t call him out on it though, that would be very embarrassing.

Looking back, I’m surprised that it was the only version where none of the other boys from his dorm showed up lol. Which means Ruggie is the sole character who has yet to appear in the “lucky ending” series, huh.

My favourite lines from his story that still leaves me breathless and patting my past self in the back: ““I’m home—” you said—even if a part of you felt that home should have been two green eyes, a cocky smirk, and a warm patch of sunlight on the grassy ground.”

Like honestly, what was I on? Who was she?

Azul is, like Leona, someone who is so keenly aware of the things he’s lacking. In fact, he’s someone who thinks he’s lacking when he’s probably perfect in some aspects. He might act proud but a part of him--I think--thinks its not enough. It’s never enough. He can certainly do better still.

In that light, it’s why he thinks he’s undeserving of a partner. Especially one who is “kind” and “understanding.” While ultimately, Azul deserves people in his life who are that and “accepting” of him--I think he still thinks he doesn’t.

And thats why he lets go of the Yuu!Reader. It’s why he doesn’t “chase” after her like Leona did.

It’s because he’s selfish, because he wants her--that he forces himself to let go.

Azul needs someone who’ll tell him that he is worth something and that he’s definitely worth the effort. So please praise him a lot until he’s crying in happiness. I’m sure it’s the one thing he’s always wanted to hear from people around him.

Also my Poly!Octavinelle Agenda has never died and I am pleased Past!Ai got away with so much Poly!Octa hints in this story lol. But honestly, regardless of wht Octavinelle says... god, you can tell they genuinely care about each other.

I recently rewatched Octavinelle’s chapter and... by god, the amount of things I missed out on first watch. Jade’s concern when he realized Azul wanted to get rid of that photo... The fact Floyd was so willing to drop the fight to return to Azul too... Anyways, Poly!Octa Agenda for life.

Favourite lines: “Azul’s pathetic whimpers turned into guttural sobs. His fingers spread to cover his eyes—and his glasses slid off his face, down to his lap and then to the ground—at his actions. His whole body shook as he cried his heart out.”

It’s not as poetic as a lot of my other favourites, but for some reason these lines always get me when I reread them. There’s something so visceral about it.

Azul’s piece is probably the least visually stimulating out of all these stories? His was so emotionally driven compared to the others and I worried a lot about that.

I think I remember I was crying so badly as I was writing this.

Kalim is really hard for me because I feel like I struggle a lot with finding conflict in his character? He’s such a genuinely nice person, I find it hard to believe that the Yuu!Reader would feel alienated from him or something. So I brought in “environment” to get in the way.

My use of celestial imagery for Kalim is because of the Scarabia trailer! I really loved how it put Kalim as the sun and Jamil as the moon. I definitely will take advantage of that when I get around to writing for Jamil.

So because I wanted to use the sun, I chose to use the idea of comets for Kalim? I think I remember something about how meteors are drawn to the gravitation pull of the sun and can “escape” it or “be destroyed” by it. Haha, hot.

Jamil is someone who ultimately cares about Kalim too and I had fun writing his banter with the Yuu!Reader. I think I wanted to decribe the shadows licking his face reminscent to the marks from his Overblot but... I felt like doing that would give Jamil too much focus so I ultimately decided against it.

It would’ve been hot though.

Oh yes, one thing I wanted to talk about is Kalim’s rushed proposal. I remember people talking about it in the tags, comments... even in asks at that time. The reason he does it is because he’s someone who didn’t realize his feelings until you spelled out your own. It was a sort of: “Oh. Right. That is the word I’d use to describe my feelings.”

My favourite lines from his story is: “How does one bid goodbye to the sun?” and “No one ever willingly bids goodbye to the sun.They spend the rest of their lives trying to find the right way back to it.”

My god, who was this genius.

Vil is probably the most visually stunning out of all these stories. I feel like my stories go from super vivid imagery and setting to just complete emotional disasters lol. (Vil being the former and Azul’s being the latter... not that it’s bad, it actually suits the characters).

Oh man, I remember thinking that Vil is such a hard character to write because we don’t know what his motivation for perfection is. All we knows is that he wants to be the best but, why?

It’s like, for example, Idia. His motivations could be otaku-related. He doesn’t want to go to class because he’d rather go play or something. That sounds in character--but Vil was so hard because he wanted perfection.

But we already see him as such a perfect character, so what else did he need to be even more perfect? In that light, Chapter 5 did a really good job on presenting Vil’s motivations.

But honestly, I think I can comfortably say that the Vil I’ve written so far is pretty accurate? To his character. I’m really grateful I read his chat lines because his comment about intelligence really got me thinking about his possible motivations. It made it really easy to understand that Vil wasn’t like majority of the real world’s influencers.

One other thing that I was really happy about with his story is the use of the flower language. It’s something I hope I can use more because it’s so beautiful.

Oh! And the roses the Yuu!Reader talks about are double delight roses. They are specifically bred to have two colors--yellow in the center and pink on the outside. I thought it fitting that the Yuu!Reader breed special roses for Vil.

They can be called... err... Vil Roses?

My favourite lines from his story is: ““My happiness will not be dictated by others—no, Vil Schoenheit is a person who will grasp happiness with his own hands.” [...] “I’m giving you this button because I’ve already found happiness by your side.””

This line was actually inspired by Zelda C.W.’s MYth series. Specifically Hera’s story, Will.

Idia ...for him, I somehow had a very hard time imagining him trying to tell the reader to stay. Like that didn’t compute for me? I felt like his version was better approached in a more comedic light somehow.

I also felt that it would be cuter if the Yuu!Reader had already chosen to stay and Idia would need to hastily retrack his confession... Unfortunately, Yuu!Reader won’t let him.

Honestly looking back on it, I wonder how much of Chapter 6 is going to make me scream and want to rewrite Idia’s part?

My favourite lines from his story is: “He was never particularly good at lying—nor was he good at keeping secrets from you. You were a person he considered a dear friend—and he was always the type of person who ended up spilling everything to you. He liked being able to talk about the things he enjoyed—he liked that he had found someone who wanted to hear him out.”

A lot of my interpretation for Idia is closely linked to personal experience as an anime, manga and gaming fan. It was just a couple of years ago where people would actually be bullied for liking these things--but nowadays its become a norm. It’s... stunning actually but it makes me happy to know that maybe nobody will be judged for loving anime.

That being said, Idia’s longing to find someone he can talk to is something I really relate too--back then, it was so difficult to find someone to talk to about my interests... So I interpreted Idia as much the same. That what he enjoys about the Yuu!Reader is their ability to simply sit and listen to him talk.

Malleus... man, recently I’ve been starting to fall in love with him all over again. He was my first oshi ever... Anyways, moving on. You think I’ve talked enough about immortal x mortal but nope, we are not done. I love this theme in general, romantic or platonic.

I will never shut up about it you can’t make me.

Sebek having a good enough friendship with Yuu!Reader is such a delicious concept. Like mutual respect and Sebek understanding that Yuu!Reader gives Malleus a different type of companionship that Sebek, Silver or Lilia couldn’t...

And also, ultimately, Sebek and Yuu!Reader do love Malleus. In different ways, but I like the thought of Sebek respecting that and respecting the Yuu!Reader.

Me realizing just now that Silver joins Ruggie in the: “has never appeared in a lucky ending fic club.”... Sorry Silver, I swear soon. Once we get more content on you.

Celestial themes for Malleus are primarily, again, because he only ever seemed to meet you at night. And I thought it would be wonderful, if you were a bright spark to him.

Favourite lines are definitely: “Oh, bright light… I would prefer to live the rest of your life by your side… rather than spend centuries contemplating what it could have felt… to hold you in my arms.”

I am, always, going to be such a big sucker for the idea of immortals constantly remembering and loving mortals. Always holding them close in their memories, because in that way--their lovers have become immortal with them.

I also like to imagine that he eventually figures out a way to connect your worlds together so you can still talk to your friends and family from that world. He is one of the most powerful magicians around, I’m sure its possible.

Rook was honestly the most difficult piece for me to write because he’s so hard(?) for me to understand. He’s a mess of contradictions honestly and I... guess I’m excited to see what he’ll do come Chapter 6.

I actually rewrote his story so much. I got about 500 words with a different idea/plot in mind before deleting that completely and restarting from scratch.

I feel like Rook is someone who talks big and talks about love without actually knowing what it truly might feel like. He’s someone who doesn’t understand it and ends up mistaking it for his fascination.

Aside from me enjoying inserting other characters from the same dorm as much as possible, I felt that Vil was the perfect person to snap some sense into Rook.

Epel’s appearance there is basically to reflect how much I really hope the first year kids get really close to one another.

Rook is also someone who I think, doesn’t try to explain himself too much. He’s someone who I think talks a lot, but if people don’t understand him then he doesn’t need to be understood? That’s my impression. Lol, when “lucky ending” became a character study.

I also really loved the idea that Rook was fine with people running from him--to him that makes it all the more thrilling. But then you start running away from him and that just ends up making dread pool in his stomach.

My favourite lines from his story: “‘When something ends, it must be sad. So, tell me then, how an ending could be so beautiful?’ [...] .‘But there was one ending that was beautiful, non?’ [...] ‘That’s right. ‘They lived happily ever after’—are those not the words that define a beautiful ending?’”

I used the dusk metaphor for Rook. My idea is that he starts seeing dusk as an ending and how he can’t fathom how any “ending” is beautiful. When a story ends, it’s not beautiful to him, humu. But when that ending is the happily ever after then... That makes all the difference.

Lilia was actually easier than Rook’s but also fairly difficult. I had written the middle of Lilia’s piece while stumped on Rook’s actually. Lilia’s was probably easier because I love the idea of immortals and mortals.

I don’t really like the idea of mortals becoming immortals. Like, yes, it’s certainly sweet and spending eternity with a one true love is definitely the best possible ending but... I think there’s so much weight in an immortal choosing to love a mortal while knowing that they will ultimately lose them.

The biggest theme for Lilia is definitely time.

Thinking about it now... There’s been a lot of things in real life that’s just... Made me think about how we have less time than we actually think we have. And I think I ended up channeling that through Lilia... Though I feel like it is ultimately things Lilia would think about though.

The most important imagery would probably be the stars.

I honestly wanted to avoid it because I used celestial imagery for both Kalim and Malleus but the words just flowed out in a way that I felt that I couldn’t replace. So I went with it.

Lilia is no stranger to loneliness. One of the reasons he feels less alone is because he has family now and he doesn’t want to rob you of that. Family is so important to him because they are people who are meant to be with you--they are people who will make you less lonely--or so thats how I think? he thinks.

My favourite lines from his story: “He would relish in the way—You made the world pause. You made a moment extend into an eternity. You made an immortal crave just a little more time.”

I’m so immensely proud of this one? I don’t really have much else to say. There’s something so raw about it that I love. Also the part where it continues on to say that “Because there is never enough time.”

Me realizing my extra notes is just half me simping over these characters, half sharing headcanons, have actually giving good advice? perspective?, half song lyrics, half character study/analysis?

“lucky ending” is about change. Whether we want them to happen or not it’s... the human condition to change. For better or worse, we change--day by day. I think we all operate under a small panic about how everyday things are changing...

But “lucky ending” is also about the things that don’t change. Won’t change. Will never change. The things worth holding onto, the thing worth fighting for... or so I’d like to think.

#aimuses #ainotes #ai lucky series #twst #twisted wonderland #its 6 AM HEEHOOO

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dancingwiththeplanets · 4 years

Text

An Angel Amongst Demons - chapter two

Boba Fett x fem!reader

chapter 1 / masterlist

Summary: A few days after the incident in the throne room, Boba hovers around you like a shadow worried you’ll leave him. You try to reassure him through small, intimate moments with him that there’s no place you’d rather be.

A/N: Really trying to expand on the idea that a gorgeous palace lays hidden underground/ behind the throne room! Also, I think we can all start calling this Boba’s Palace now, jabba is gone. Sorry for the low quality edit it’s my first one haha

Warnings: dancing!boba, protective!boba, suggestive content, plain old day at the palace, soft!boba, not a lot of content tbh but cute moments and we get to know our OC Mandos Raul and Enzo, I didn’t plan this out, im sorry

Word Count: 4.5k+

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

The ballroom, though practically useless in its existence and never actually having served its purpose, has recently become one of your favorite rooms in the palace. Initially, you didn’t know what to do with the space. It’s not like Boba seized at the idea of throwing a ball and inviting a group of strangers into the palace, providing anyone the opportunity to discover the secrets hidden behind the throne room. Let alone risk letting an adversary sneak their way in and stirring up trouble.

Nonetheless, you’ve taken it upon yourself to spruce the place up. It is, after all, one of the grander rooms in the castle, with paintings coating the ceiling and the walls bordered with columns.

It’s actually extremely beautiful, you’ve decided, wiping your forehead against your light-blue sleeve, frowning when it comes back brown from the dust that’s stuck to your face. It seemed like a sensible thing to wear this morning. A loose fitting blue blouse with flowy pants to match, secured in the middle by a slightly darker sash. Your pant legs were tucked into your boots so as not to get in the way. It was one of the more cozy and plain things you owned, though not poor in quality by any standards. The fabric was refined, flowy and soft against your skin. Quite honestly, even in your working clothes, you looked nicer than you felt you deserved to. But far be it for Boba to allow his princess to wander around in anything but the best.

The week you’d moved in was a busy one, filled with surprises and adjustments that were quite honestly overwhelming. You arrived at Boba’s palace with a literal sack over your shoulder, enough to stash your small wardrobe of two garments and a few trinkets of personal value. Tatooine was a simple place, you only owned what you absolutely needed. And you, being a young and simple waitress at the local cantina, could barely make enough to cover your cost of living. You were never awarded the luxury of having needless objects.

The first few days of your arrival, Boba had stuck to your side like glue, making sure you got around okay and had everything you needed. Initially, he’d even had a seperate room made up for you to stay in. It was absolutely beautiful, by far the lightest room in the entire palace, though lacking in a window. It was one of the biggest, not as impressive as his own chambers, but still spacious. He decorated the room with paintings and furniture and accented the space with hues of blue and gold. Unfortunately, the pretty room barely got any good use out of it.

Boba escorted you to your quarters on your first night, cradling your chin and kissing your forehead at the door, bidding you goodnight. He reminded you where you could find something to sleep in, having delighted himself in surprising you with an entirely new wardrobe.

You pulled on a satin, lavender slip, admiring the foreign material for a long while as it weighed so delicately on your form. You took your time readying yourself for bed before crawling in and feeling engulfed by pillows. Once you settled, left alone to your anxious thoughts and feelings, you suddenly felt overwhelmed by the exquisite room embracing you. A flutter of giddiness and exhilaration filled you, your mind and body enraptured by the day's events. You felt absolutely spoiled.

Feeling bold on an entirely unnatural level, you slipped away from the warm, velvety comforter and tiptoed to the door. With a rush of courage, your hand met the handle and you stepped out, bare feet cold against the tile floor. You peeked around before quickly darting down the hall, forever grateful that not a soul was around to see your practically naked form running by, before ascending the stairs that led to Boba’s door.

You lifted your hand, your knuckle knocking gently three times against the rough surface.

You heard Boba shifting on the other side of the door, tugging down on your nightgown that just barely cleared your thighs. The hinges of the door creaked as they turned, opening slowly to reveal a very smug looking Boba in just his underclothes.

He hummed, eyes tracing over your form with a shake of his head. “Wandering the halls looking like that.” He chided, gently grabbing you by the waist and pulling you through the door, “That’ll get you into trouble, little one.”

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

You smile as you recall the memory. Suffice to say, you didn’t end up sleeping in your own quarters that night, or any night after that, for that matter. Though Boba’s honorable gesture in providing you with your own space was not lost on you.

Continuing on with your endeavors, you move to stand from your crouch on the ground, simultaneously trying to tighten the blue sash wrapped around your middle. You gasp as you run into a hard surface, exhaling in relief as Boba braces you in front of him.

Mumbling an apology, you watch as his helmeted face looks you up and down, steady hands holding you out from him.

“What?” You ask, a smile making its way to your cheeks.

“Your outfit, it...looks like something I wore as I boy.” He says adoringly, now fondling the blue sash at your hips.

You glance down again at your form, a matching blue blouse and trousers tucked into simple black boots. “I...look like you as a young boy?” You counter, earning a deep chuckle from your lover.

“Well I looked rather plain in it,” He says, “I don’t think I looked half as radiant as you do.”

“So you do like it?” You ask.

“Of course I like it,” He grins, “I bought it.”

You shake your head as you carry on with your tasks, allowing Boba to shadow your movements for a while before leaving you again to carry on with his own agenda.

You spend the next few hours actively scrubbing away at the room, feeling especially motivated to complete it, not like all the other half-finished rooms scattered about the palace, which is partly your fault. But the ballroom felt different, once you dusted away all the grime and filth and replaced the lighting in the ceilings to give the room more life, it really started to come together. Unfortunately, your previously clean clothes and skin were paying the price for the hard work being done, you definitely looked a little worse for wear. Wisps of hair beginning to tickle your cheeks from where they’d fallen loose from your braid.

Currently, you were taking extra care to polish a beautiful mosaic decorating the inside of an archway. Thousands of small, colorful shards lined neatly together to form the image of a bold Tatooine sunset. One of the few grand beauties your home planet was known for. A surprisingly lovely work of art left behind, albeit not properly cared for, by the previous inhabitants of the palace.

You admire the artwork for a while after polishing it to near perfection, letting your bum fall to the floor and legs splay out comfortably in front of you. Your wrists support your upper body, arms holding you up as you lean back onto them, head tilting lazily to one side.

You find yourself distracted from your glossed over gaze by Boba, who seems to have wandered his way in here for the third time today. Enzo tails him a few paces behind, but stops to stand guard idly by the door. You can’t imagine he or Raul feel as though they serve any real purpose wandering these empty halls, probably much preferring when they get to patrol the throne room or secure the perimeter.

Boba approaches you, pausing over your fatigued form and huffing out a laugh when you don’t move to stand, instead opting to gaze up at him with tired, doe eyes. He holds a hand out to you and you groan, placing your palm in his as he hoists you up.

“The room looks lovely.” He says, voice raspy through the modulator as he looks around.

The praise makes you smile. “Come see what I found,” You say, leading him by the hand. You open a large dresser to the right, stuffed full of old vinyls and a polished record player sitting proudly atop. You carefully choose a record, placing it beneath the needle and starting the track, allowing it to play soothingly in the background as you guide him around the rest of the room.

He follows you around, listening to you babble about the lovely art on the ceiling and how nice the light looks coming through the one, boxy window at the top. He watches the childlike sparkle and admiration in your eyes as you point out different things you’ve noticed, the excitement trickling out in your tone.

His mind contemplates how different this life is from the one you used to have. You went from a one room, compact home, just barely big enough for your small bed, to a palace filled with grand staircases, hallways and countless bedrooms, a blissful dream in your eyes. Nevermind the fact that you were still stuck on Tatooine. In fact, you seemed happy to stay, oddly attached to the sandy planet, something Boba found amusing.

A couple trips around the room later, and a few songs having gone by, the two of you now stand in the center of the empty room. Him, groaning in protest, and you, placing his hand on your waist yet again. You’ve spent the last few minutes trying to teach him a basic waltz, something your father had taught you when you were little. A rare memory you shared with him before he...well-

“Boba,” You scold with a giggle, “Try again.” Your request earns you another frustrated grumble from your partner. At some point you were able to coerce him into dancing with you, having pleaded desperately when your favorite classic came on. “C’mon, you nearly had it that time!”

He sighs loudly, tilting his helmet in an exasperated fashion. “Last time,” He says with finality, his finger raised in your direction.

You nod your head, an amused grin spread wide on your face.

He holds tight to your waist and reaches for your other hand, a final effort to humor you.

“And...1, 2, 3...1, 2, 3..” You begin moving again to the music, trying to swallow the snicker working its way up at the image of your armored partner staring at your feet for guidance. Visor following your every move, looking unsure and sloppy and quite honestly graceless.

You jump at the voice of a forgotten presence in the room.

“No! No, no, no, boss.” Enzo finally pipes up, his silent and judgemental self unable to be contained any longer. He moves forward with a swagger in his step as he struts towards you from his previous position against the wall, “You’ve gotta lead her by the waist,” He says pointedly, reaching for you “Observe-”

Boba’s arm shoots out, blocking Enzo by the pauldron, “You touch her, you're a dead man.” He growls, deflecting his attempt to take you by the waist.

You jerk slightly at the interaction, rolling your eyes and waiting for the show of dominance to subside.

Enzo’s hands raise in surrender, bowing away respectfully before returning to his earlier stance, no doubt a grin slapped on beneath his visor.

Boba’s hand returns to your waist with a shake of his head, noting your half-suppressed chuckle, evidently amused by the encounter.

“Alright,” He grunts, “once more.”

You start counting aloud, moving at a pace Boba can keep up with. You step out on the final eight count and slowly twirl back into his arms, your back now braced against his front. He tugs at your hips, holding you closer, “Mm,” He hums in your ear as you sway in your position, “Well I do like this.”

The sound of his accented voice filtering through the modulator sends a shiver down your spine, and you breathe out a light exhale as he releases you a moment later, turning you to face him.

“See,” You sigh, “You can dance.”

He hums in response, turning around to retrieve his weapon.

You move to face your hired gun, again leaning casually against the entryway.

“Do you actually know how to dance, Enzo?” You ask, reflecting on his earlier attempt at an intervention.

“-Wouldn’t matter if he did.” Boba interjects loudly over his shoulder, dismissing any ideas before they transpired.

You hear a light chuckle emitting through Enzo’s modulator, turning back to see his stance remaining motionless aside from the slight jerk in his shoulders.

Boba returns to your side, tapping his forehead against yours in an obvious farewell.

Your head falls heavily to one side as you tenderly hold one of his gloved hands, fingers tracing the rough fabric of his own. “Is that all the time you’ve allotted for me today, my king?” You say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips.

“Duty calls, I’m afraid.” He replies, “But perhaps I’ll come find you in a bit, see what further progress you’ve made.”

You nod, a slight frown tugging on your lips. You hesitate raising the concern suddenly weighing in your mind.

Ever since the incident with Crane occurred, Boba’s been...watchful. It’s not that he wasn’t protective of you before, it’s just that in the past few days he’s been protective of you in an entirely different way. He’s been hovering and checking in on you almost compulsively. Whereas before he seemed to want to keep you away during the busy hours of his day, now he seemed to want you near enough to reach in a moment's notice. Almost as if he’s worried you’ll abandon him when he’s not looking.

You wonder how he can still feel so worried after sharing such a fun and intimate moment with you.

So, you’ve given him some extra leeway, allowing him to hover to his heart's content until he seems secure in knowing that you’re not going anywhere.

That being said, you really didn’t mind Boba’s loitering close by to wherever you happened to be, you only wish you knew he wasn’t doing it because of the events that conspired earlier in the week.

“Boba,” You say lightly, catching his arm as he turns. “You don’t need to keep checking up on me, I’m not...you know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

He pauses at your words, hands stilling in their endeavor to tighten up loosened pieces of clothing and armor. You hope you haven't upset him in calling out his unusual conduct.

He averts his gaze to the side, pausing a moment before turning back to you. “I know.” He says nodding, a slight hint of defeat in his tone.

You hope perhaps some flattery will comfort him, stepping closer and lifting your gaze to meet his own. “My king,” you say in admiration, “You are a very busy man. You have a planet to rule. And an underworld to dominate. There are many things that I know put strain and worry in your mind, but whether or not your partner will still be here when you go looking for her should not be one of them.”

He doesn’t make any movements, and the face of his visor does little to allow you access to his thoughts.

“What I mean to say is,” You continue, “Go rule your empire. Your princess is safely stashed away in the palace you’ve encompassed her in.”

He breathes out a chuckle, and you smile, “I am happier here with you than I ever thought I’d be. I don’t want to be anywhere you won't be too, Boba Fett.” You reiterate your words from your conversation a few days ago. One that both started and ended with the two of you in tears. A rare moment between the two of you indeed. An exceedingly painful incident for him, having showcased the true depth of his love for you in such an unexpected and vulnerable way. And for you, to have seen the strongest and most fearless man you have ever known brought down to his knees, in tears, was absolutely gut-wrenching, especially in knowing that his own insecurities about your love had driven him to feel such fear.

You squeeze his arm and kiss the cheek of his helmet in valediction. His unmoving visor lingering on your face for an extended moment.

Boba’s hand makes its way to the back of your head, pulling you forward slightly before gently meeting you in the middle with his own helmet. Your foreheads pressed together in an intimate and tender kiss.

He pulls away silently, giving you a nod, a gesture you return with a small smile before watching him exit the room, Enzo in tow.

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You make your way to the kitchens, stomach growling unhappily at having been neglected all afternoon.

You pause under the doorway.

“I’ve seen you far too much today,” You sigh, feigning exasperation at the sight of Enzo shifting through the pantry for a meal to take to his room.

He stops his digging, turning to face you standing under the doorway before spinning back around.

“Vod’ika,” He greets, “Soup?” He holds a can up over his shoulder while reaching for a pot below the stove.

“No, thanks.” You say, approaching his station.

You pick up the canister of tomato soup, looking it over. “I doubt this tiny thing is even enough for just you.”

He glances down at the can in your hand. “I’ll do two then.”

You roll your eyes, what is it with these massive Mandalorians and not understanding proper nourishment?

“No, no.” You chide, “At least attempt to incorporate a healthy balance into your diet. Something with protein, maybe? Make a grilled porg-and-cheese melt to go with the soup. You can dip it in the broth, it’s delicious.”

His teal visor meets your face, shifting in uncertainty. “Can you do it?”

You sigh, “Fine.”

You get out the sandwich makings, opting to make one for yourself as well. You smear the bantha butter along four pieces of bread and grill them on a pan, layering sliced porg and cheese slices afterward.

You hear footsteps approaching the kitchen just as you’re pulling the finished sandwiches off the stove.

“Raul!” You greet with a smile, Enzo’s head whips in your direction. “We’re making sandwiches, want one?”

“You never sound that excited to see me.” Enzo declares.

You giggle at the accusation, sliding his sandwich onto a plate and handing it to him.

“Can I make you one, Raul?” You repeat.

He sighs, “No kid, thank you.” He steps forward and pulls Enzo’s plate from his hands, placing it away from him on the counter.

“Aye!” Enzo protests, wanting to transport his hot meal to his room so he could eat.

“We work for her,” Raul says, articulating the ‘we’ with an exaggerated hand gesture between the two of them. “You should be making her sandwich, not the other way around.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” You groan, looking between the pair of Mandalorians.

“Yeah, Raul,” Enzo mocks, a slightly more threatening air to his tone. He retrieves the stolen soup and sandwich, “Don’t be a di’kut.”

Raul’s helmet tilts slightly at Enzo’s words. Not knowing exactly what the word means, but starting to get an unsettling feeling in your stomach, you attempt to intervene, “Guys-”

Just a moment too late.

Raul clamps a hand on Enzo’s arm, jolting him back from trying to pass him. His hand smacks the plate out of Enzo’s hand, the glass shattering before it even reaches the floor, and the soup and sandwich splattering everywhere.

“I made that-” You frown.

Now with two free hands, Enzo grips Raul’s shoulders and shoves him back against the brick ovens, a rough grunt escaping Raul when his helmet meets the open face of a hanging pan.

“Please stop-” You yelp, wincing as Enzo’s fist uppercuts into the weak spot under Raul’s helmet.

For being half a head shorter and not as obviously built as his opponent, the Mandalorian in black and teal armor could sure hold his own.

Raul spits something out in mando’a, his words seething as he grabs onto the cuff of the smaller Mandalorians neck covering and throws him with little exertion to the floor. You hear the crunching of glass beneath Raul’s boots as he growls with a foot on pressing to Enzo’s chest in an effort to force him into submission.

“-I wish you guys wouldn’t always do this.” You sigh, not bothering to shout anymore over the sound of beskar scraping against beskar.

You slide from your seat, taking your sandwich with you as you circle around the room to avoid becoming collateral damage in the red Mandalorian’s show of dominance.

“I have never witnessed two people fight over something so stupid in my life!” You call out behind you, tearing a piece of your sandwich off and popping it into your mouth. Leaving the sound of metal crashing against stone behind you.

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

You sigh when you finally reach your room, ascending the steps inside your chambers to reach the bedroom. You’re about to sit down on the bed when you catch sight of your reflection, covered in dust patches and knee stains from when you scrubbed against the floor. You opt to take a quick shower instead, washing out all the grime gathered in your hair and skin.

It takes a couple minutes of harsh scrubbing for the water to stop running off your body brown. You take extra care to wash behind your ears and around your hairline, where dirt likes to plant itself firmly.

You turn the water off when the last few soap suds slide off your hair, wrapping yourself in a warm towel.

Taking a glance out the window, you note that the suns are already setting low on the horizon, and resign yourself to just staying in for the rest of the night.

You pull on a slip dress and wrap yourself in Boba’s robe, inhaling his comforting, musky scent. You reach for your book on the nightstand before lighting a couple of candles around the space, creating a warm and cozy environment.

Satisfied with the aesthetic you set around you, you plop down on your bed and hope to get a few chapters into your novel before Boba gets home. Admittedly getting distracted a couple times by the stunning, shaded view out your window, exposing you to the last few moments of the captivating sunset.

Boba comes home a little over an hour later, the glow in your chambers now reduced to only a few lamps and the candlelight spread about your room, but enough to alert Boba of your presence.

You hear his heavy armored footsteps trudging up towards the bedroom. You turn your head expectantly when he reaches the top. Helmet in hand, he pauses for a moment upon seeing you, admiring the image of your figure wrapped up in his robe and curled up with a book, before stepping forward and greeting you with a kiss.

He pulls back, gaze immediately flickering to the window, probably having noticed it immediately upon entering the room but choosing to greet you before acknowledging it.

You groan internally, knowing what's coming.

“Mesh’la,” He hums, frowning at the open curtains exposing you to the darkness of the Tatooine night. A few dim lights from Mos Eisley shining in the distance. He steps forward to slide the curtains closed, you don’t complain, only having wanted them open for sunset. “What have I told you, little one? It's not safe to have these open.”

“I only just opened them, Boba.” You fib a little, hoping to reassure him.

He nods, unconvinced, before beginning to strip himself of his armor. You observe him unlatch the beskar piece-by-piece, placing the armor neatly in its designated chest.

He groans loudly when he sinks down beside you, arms raising behind his head.

You giggle at his tired show of soreness, eyes still glued to the pages of your book. “Old man,” You mutter.

“Watch it.” He growls lowly. You glance a peek at him, eyes closed heavily against his cheeks.

You ponder your bravery for a moment, sticking your nose back in your book before impulsively whispering, “Relic.” You shriek, bursting into a fit of laughter as he suddenly reaches over and wrestles the book out of your hands, using it to plant a harsh smack on your behind.

“Boba Fett!” You squeal, hands moving to shield your bum as the vibrations from his deep laugh shake the bed.

Still holding the book up in a threatening manner, a childlike gleam in his eyes, he challenges you, “Apologize.”

You consider tossing another remark out, eyes darting to the book in his hand, before deciding against it tonight.

Instead, you hoist yourself up onto your knees, allowing his robe to slowly slide down your form and meet the duvet, revealing the thin slip below. His closed-lip smile increases a little, eyes tracing down your form, book lowering slightly in the space above where he lay.

You crawl forward until your chest hovers above him, noses nearly touching, “My apologies, my king.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He deepens the kiss with a groan, your hand reaching back to grip your novel, which he allows you to slip from his fingers.

You let him attack you lips for another moment before you pull away. Having gotten what you wanted, you shift back to your side of the bed, turning to the page you left off at.

A deep chuckle rumbles out from Boba’s chest. “Alright, little one.” He says, “I'll let you play your game.”

He turns the light out on his side of the bed, pulling the blankets out and over the two of you before moving to embrace your form, leaning close to whisper in your ear, “-this time.”

A shiver runs down your spine and you try to resist the smile tugging at your lips, though you feel his own brushing against your ear in satisfaction.

“Tomorrow,” He says, shifting a little above you, “I’m heading into Mos Eisley with Fennec.

“What for?” You ask, finally marking your page and setting it aside.

“Nothing,” He grumbles, “I need to put on a little show of...authority, for a few people.”

You hum, “No big deal?” You question.

“Just a local inconvenience.” He gripes.

You nod slightly, not requiring any elaboration. You suppose you’ll have to entertain yourself tomorrow. “Well then, maybe I’ll have Raul teach me how to wield a dagger,” You quip, a grin back on your face.

Boba huffs out an amused puff of air, “I’d much prefer you with a blaster.” He says, apparently taking the idea seriously, “You don’t need to be up close to use it.”

“We’ll see then,” You say, standing to turn out the rest of the lights.

A single lit candle from your bedside table casts a warm glow over Boba’s face, eyes closed and head still leaning back against your bed-frame pillow.

“Get back on your side,” You chuckle, nudging him as you crawl back into your space.

“M’fine here.” He mumbles, leaning further over onto your pillow.

You smile, his body encasing yours and his nose presses into your neck.

“I’ll be fine here too you know.” You mutter, referencing the day you’ll be spending without his guard.

“You finally gonna stop worrying about me?” You tease, having received no response.

He shakes his head, snuggling deeper into your neck, “Never.”

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A/N pt.2: So I wrote this and I thought it was great then I read it back a few times and realized literally nothing happened haha im so sorry 😅😅😅

Literally spent too many hours on this not to upload though so I suppose here’s a filler chapter my bad lots of love 🥰

#an angel amongst demons #Boba Fett #boba x reader #boba x you #the mandalorian #book of boba fett #din djarin #mando #boba!palace #soft!boba #king!boba #boba fett x reader #boba's palace

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cryingoverafictionalcharacter · 4 years

Text

Request from @iwannagotospaceforever: Could u do a Fred Weasley x reader maybe with prompt 12 and 13???

12: “I’m Fine!” “Y/n, there's blood coming out of your head!”

13: “You’re cute when you want to stab me”

A/N: I love this!!! I hope you guys enjoy, feel free to leave me any feedback or requests you might have <3

Prompt: You and Fred have been friends for a while, you’ll hang out together on school grounds, pull pranks with Fred, and just seem to get along well, unless its on the quidditch pitch, where your competitive natures can get a bit out of hand.

Warnings: Reader is not in the same house as Fred (Gryffindor), Swearing, mentions of blood, Frenemies type shit, Fluff, terrible quidditch writing

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You walked onto the quidditch pitch, resting your broom against your shoulder as you swung your other arm, excited for game day. You were determined to win this round, Gryffindor having won the last couple games, and you were not going to let your house fall into the same fate. You had been getting up early the past two weeks, trying out new flying techniques, working on your stamina, and practicing chaser moves with Fred.

You and Fred have been friends since fourth year, having met in Snape's potions class when your concoction may have blown up in Snape’s face. After that you were constantly hanging out. Fred joined in of course, pulling pranks and just talking about random things in general, but for some reason, you and the older twin just had a connection. It might have had something to do with your competitive natures constantly keeping each other on your toes.

You spotted him on the other side of the field with George, each carrying their beaters gear and walking to the Gryffindor rest area. His eyes met yours and a smile spread across his face as he waved.

“You’re going down” He mouthed, his hand that was once waving now having a thumb pointing downwards. You smiled back.

“Fuck off” You mouthed back, going to give him the bird before you suddenly remembered Dumbledore was watching, and he probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.

Fred made a fake sad face, making you laugh a bit before returning the gesture. Suddenly Lee Jordan's voice rang through the bleachers.

“Good afternoon everyone and welcome to the third game of the season, today we have Gryffindor against (Y/H). Lets have a good game, and may the best team win.

This signaled for you and the rest of your team to get on your brooms and fly up to the starting point, forming a circle with the other chasers on your team as well as the chasers on Gryffindor.

There was a bit of silence, before madam Hooch opened the trunk, releasing the bludgers and the golden snitch, before finally throwing the Quaffle into the air, officially starting the game.

After a few minutes you had finally gotten your hand on the quaffle, headed to the goal, and towards Fred and George. You saw George moving to block your left, and moved right, now having to face Fred. You had been practicing with him for the past few weeks, so you knew his weak spots, but he also knew yours. You faked going for the far right goal before quickly turning and going through the middle, scoring your team a point.

“That's ten points to (Y/H)!” Lee’s voice rang out, causing cheers and boos to ring through the crowd. You flew up beside Fred, having a moment before the next play started.

“You need to up your game Weasley” You said jokingly

“Please I saw you from a mile away” He joked back, suddenly making you think that he might have let you score.

“I swear to God Weasley, if you are going easy on me im going to kill you” You said, giving him a look, before starting to fly off, but not before Fred got in the last word.

“You look so cute when you want to stab me!” He said, causing you to look back at him and giving him a pose, causing the both of you to laugh, but secretly you had butterflies going insane in your stomach.

Did Fred Weasley just call you cute? You weren’t blind, you thought the twin were quite attractive, but every once in a while, you couldn’t help but think about Fred specifically, about how the sun caught his hair, or how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, or how he was able to laugh every day, but also made sure that you felt heard.

You were quickly snapped out of your thoughts however when you made it back to the starting circle, putting your focus back into the game.

A few rounds later and you were 20-20 with Gryffindor. You had just gotten the ball again and was headed towards the goal, Fred facing you, a smirk on his face which only motivated you more. You were only a few seconds to scoring the goal, when Fred's face changed from irritating smugness, to worry. You didn’t have time to make out what he was saying before the right side of your head suddenly erupted with a sharp pain, and you were spiraling towards the ground.

The fact that you were still on your broom didn’t make the fall to bad, but before you knew what had happened, you were laying on your back looking at the sky.

“Looks like one of (Y/H) chasers got a good knock by one of the bludgers, that gotta hurt” Lee Jordan said

Madam Hooch was knelt beside you, asking you about the pain when Fred suddenly landed next you, running over and kneeling by your side.

“I know you said to not go easy on you but I swear it wasn’t me” He said, quickly, causing you to laugh a little.

“Fucking coward” You mumbled suddenly realizing that the game was still going on.

“Fred what are you doing go play I’m fine!” you said, finally sitting all the way up, your head spinning a bit.

“Y/n, there is blood coming out of your head!” Fred said, making you lift your hand to poke the side of your head, only to pull it back to see blood. Before you could say anything else to get Fred back to the game, Lee Jordan's voice rang through the crowd.

“Harry Potter has captured the Golden snitch! Gryffindor wins!” Lee said, causing the crowd to cheer.

“Well that sucks” You groaned. All the practice, only for the golden boy to catch the snitch AGAIN. You reached out your hand to Fred, motioning for him to help you up, which he took. However as soon as you were on your feet your head started to spin, but Fred saw you sway and caught you.

“I want you to go straight to the medical wing to make sure you don't have a concussion, Weasley can you take them?” Madam hooch said, making you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need to-” You started, not thinking your injury was such a big deal

“I would be happy to” Fred said before smiling at you, you glaring at him in return.

A few minutes later and you were sitting cross legged on on of the bed in the hospital wing, Fred making it his job to annoy you while Madam Pomfry to checked on you.

“Be honest doc, how long do they have” Fred said, causing you to roll your eyes and swat his arm, which caused him to laugh.

“Y/N will be living for a long while, but you do have a very mild concussion, so I don’t want you to do anything labor intensive for the next week.

“What? But quidditch!” you practically yelled, horrified at the news.

“I don’t want to hear it, now at the end of the week, I want you to come back in so we can see how you’re healing, as for the rest of the day I want you to relax” Madam Pomfry said, giving you a sympathetic look before leaving to check up on someone who had a bad encounter with the wrong Polyjuice potion.

“It could be worse” Fred said, trying to lighten the mood, causing you to glare at him.

“How could it be worse?” You asked

“Well you could not have me to keep you company!” Fred said, causing you to groan.

“Death would have been a kinder fate” You said, before quickly laughing at Fred’s shocked expression. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding” You said, moving to get up, which Fred helped you do without fully realizing it.

“Are you sure you want to stick around? I can’t do any strenuous activities so I’m basically the most boring person in the world right now” You said, causing Fred to shake his head.

“Impossible, you could never be boring, but I have an idea if you’re up to it?” Fred asked, quirking a brow which made you suspicious, but you agreed non the less, nodding your head.

“Excellent, adventure awaits!” He said, before walking off while still having his arm around you.

A while later and you were sitting outside by the black lake, underneath a tree. You had been spending the last few minutes throwing rocks in the water, just watching the ripples.

“You think the squid is mad that we keep throwing rocks in his house?” You asked, causing Fred to laugh a bit.

“Why do you think I brought you along? If he suddenly wants to kill us I know you're going to be way slower than me.” Fred laughed, laughing even louder when you shoved his shoulder.

“Typical, you only bring me places to benefit your secret agenda” You joked, leaning your back against the tree.

“Nah, you're to pretty to sacrifice” He said, suddenly tensing up realizing he just said that.

You were feeling something similar, your face heating up as you shook your head, trying to dismiss the comment as something platonic. He just felt bad because you got hit.

“Fred, I am in dirty quidditch clothes, with crazy hair and a bruise on the side of my head, I wouldn’t describe myself as pretty right now” You said, thinking he would make a joke and that would be the end of it.

“Well I disagree” He said, the sincerity in his voice surprising you, you turned to look at him to see he was already looking at you, before looking down at his hands.

“You really scared me today” He started “When I saw you get hit, and saw you falling, I was so scared. I kept thinking of how it happened, how I could have stopped it, how you were probably out cold, but then I got down there, and you were the same you always were, calling me lame for not intentionally trying to kill my friend at quidditch” He finished, his joking tone returning a bit.

“I think the term I used was coward” You said, smiling a bit.

“Yeah, that I am, not because of quidditch though” Fred said, smiling a bit, but you weren’t, stuck trying to think about what he could be talking about.

“Fred, you pull pranks on professors for fun. You stole your parents car, for fun. I don’t need to say all the crazy things you’ve done to know you’re not a coward. Why do you think that?” You asked.

“Because I never told you about how I really felt” Fred said. Suddenly the butterflies in your stomach returned, causing your face to heat up.

“What?” You asked, not quite believing what you were hearing.

“I like you Y/n, I have for a while, but I haven't said anything because I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship” He said, still not looking in your eye and instead looking out on the lake.

“Well then I guess where both cowards” You said, causing Fred’s head to suddenly snap to look at you, which made you laugh a bit.

“What?” It was now Fred’s turn to look shocked. Instead of answering, you just shake your head and put a hand on his cheek, closing the space between you two and connecting your lips. Fred took no time to respond, moving his hand to gently cup the side of your face that wasn’t bruised. We stayed like that for a moment, before finally pulling away for air.

“Well, that was unexpected” Fred said, making you laugh.

“What that I like you back or that I’m such an amazing kisser even with a head injury” You said, making him laugh in return.

“Speaking of which, maybe we should stop, Pomfry said no strenuous activity and I wouldn’t want to-” Fred started but you knew he was joking.

“Just shut it and kiss me dumb ass” You said, smiling as he reconnected your lips again, this time the kiss going a bit further, his tongue sweeping your bottom lip. You opened your mouth, your hands moving to his hair and-

“Oi no snogging with a concussion!” George suddenly yelled from a bit a ways, Oliver and some of your team mates following.

“Mind your own business” Fred said, making you laugh.

“And here we are, trying to be good friends and make sure you haven't died or something” George said, shaking his head in feign disappointment. “This couldn’t have waited a week?”

“No!” You and Fred said in unison, causing the group to laugh before making their way back to the school, wanting to give you two some privacy, but not before George gave Fred a quick thumbs up, glad that he finally made his move.

“Well I’m glad you didn’t wait to tell me” You said once everyone was out of earshot.

“Me neither, except we still have to wait a week to-” Fred started, a suggestive smirk on his face.

“Fred Weasley I swear to God!” You yelled swatting his chest, causing him to fall into a fit of laughter which you quickly followed. Maybe getting hit by a bludger isn’t the worst thing that could happen.

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Ah, to be hit in the head by a giant ball and be comforted by Fred Weasley. The Dream. TBH I know this ending is trash! But still I hope you enjoyed it, let me know if you have any recommendations or feedback! Also @iwannagotospaceforever I hope you liked it!

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley headcannon #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #george weasley #Harry Potter

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years

Text

I’ve Got You

Requested by Anon: “Could I request a jennie scenario where her girlfriend is scared of water / swimming and jen calms her down like reader did in your ‘safe with me’ work?”

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,626

Warnings / Misc. -- Some Angst, PTSD / Flashbacks, Anxiety, Crying, Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: To the anon who requested this: thank you so much! I wrote it all in one go (at like 3am, mind you), and I had a blast with it. I took it a little more on the angsty side, but I really hope you guys enjoy it. Happy reading, let me know what you think!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Waking up in Jennie’s arms has always been a lovely thing, but something about this time seemed even more perfect than usual. Early morning sunlight glittered into the room, creating an almost dream-like haze, and some of the rays landed on her skin. She looked like an angel -- features slightly puffy with sleep, a small pout on her lips. Her head was against your shoulder, and her arms snaked around your waist, anchoring you close to her body. You always loved cuddling in close with her, the two of you keeping each other warm throughout the night.

Stealing a glance at the clock, you realize that the two of you almost overslept; the girls want to meet downstairs at the hotel’s restaurant in an hour. With that notion in mind, you know what you have to do; reluctantly, you gently shake Jennie to wake her up.

“Jennie, baby, we’ve gotta hurry or else we’ll be late.”

She lets out a groan, her voice a bit gravelly, and ignores your words, opting to pull you in closer instead.

“5 more minutes.” The words come out as a mumble, barely intelligible, but you grin. Jennie’s always been the type to sleep in when she can, and you can’t blame her; with as hard as she works, it’s completely understandable.

“Alright, but that’s it! We seriously have to get up after that.”

With a gentle nod, she snuggles into your side again, bringing a hand up to rest against your neck.

As your eyes rake over her delicate features, you start to recall the plan that all of you had decided on for the day. With the girls taking a break from practices and rehearsals to shoot a new show for their Youtube channel, you have plenty to do -- today’s agenda called for ziplining and mini golf, to be precise. Given how close you are with all of the girls, it’s no wonder that they were able to sweet talk their managers into letting you tag along for the ride. Of course, you’ll have to wait until they get all of the filming done to join in on their escapades, but regardless, you’re beyond excited to see them having fun.

With the 5 minutes officially over, you hatch a plan on the best way to wake Jennie up again. You start by gently rolling her onto her back, and proceed to pepper feather-light kisses all across her face. Soon, you feel her stir underneath you, her eyes fluttering open in the cutest way possible. Perhaps in an alternate universe, she worked as a Disney princess instead of an idol; she’s definitely qualified to be one.

“Hey cutie,” she says, voice laced with remnants of sleep, and pulls you in for a quick kiss. One of your arms is around her waist, with the other one propping you up so that you can look down into her eyes.

“C’mon beautiful, let’s go.”

Once she’s had a chance to rub her eyes and get adjusted to the light, you scoop her up in your arms and carry her to the bathroom.

“Oh no, looks like we’ll have to shower together if we wanna make it on time…” Her eyes exude mischief as the words fall from her lips, and you play along.

“What a shame.”

She kisses you again, smiling widely against your lips, and the two of you start getting ready.

~~~~~~~

“There you guys are! It sure took you long enough.”

Both Jennie and yourself have to bite back your smiles. After a quick apology, the girls are already busy talking about what the day has in store.

“I know we’ll probably be tired after filming, but maybe once we get back here we can go down to the pool to unwind? I saw the spa, too; it looked really nice.” At Rosé’s innocent suggestion, you soon find your heart beginning to palpitate. Anything but that, you think to yourself, your mind already beginning to betray you with intrusive thoughts.

You can’t blame her for proposing the idea -- after all, it’s a beautiful day outside, and the weather is perfect for swimming. But the problem lies deeper: you’ve never told any of them -- including Jennie -- about your fear of the water (swimming, to be exact). Even thinking of it makes you sick to your stomach, and you suddenly feel a bit overwhelmed.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom, okay? Be right back.”

As you stand, Jennie asks if you want her to tag along -- had she noticed your uneasiness? With a quick squeeze to her hand, you assure her that you’ll be fine, and you begin your walk.

Once in the safety of the bathroom, you take a deep breath to steady yourself as your hands grip the marble surface of the countertop. Memories of that fateful summer day come flooding in, and you’re unable to push them away any longer.

It was a gorgeous day, the sun high up in the sky, shedding its heat down on everything below. Your family had decided to spend the day outside, grilling and swimming, the usual summer traditions that you held every year.

Delicious smells carried over from the food being cooked by your father, and you shouted praise to him from across the yard.

“Smells good, pops!”

He yelled a thank you back, and your brother got your attention from his place beside you.

“Wanna race in the pool?”

“You’re on, loser, but don’t cry when I beat you!” You throw him a smug look, and laugh when he shoves you.

“Yeah yeah, you’re going down!” He exclaims as he darts past you, getting a head start to the pool.

“Not fair!” You run after him and jump in, ready to wrestle him and make things even.

The water is cool against your skin, working in perfect contrast with the beams of sun shining down. You’re faced with a rude awakening, however, as you come back up to the surface: your brother is waiting on you, and he pounces.

In the beginning, the wrestling match is quite fun; the two of you can’t contain your laughter as you push each other around, splashing water at one another. In no time, though, things take a tragic turn; with one particularly hard shove, you’re sent under, falling down the slope of the pool and towards the deep end. The slippery surface of the liner underneath your feet offers no grip, and soon you find yourself struggling for even a breath of air.

Panic begins to spread throughout your body as you feel yourself losing control; oblivious to the gravity of the situation, your brother is still giggling -- he has no idea what’s actually happening. With each urgent thrash, you’re sent a little further away, out of reach of your brother.

Shortly after he realizes you aren’t messing around, he attempts to help you. Seeing as how he’s only a couple years older and just a few inches taller than you, he’d also be struggling in the deep end. He soon discovers this fact as he reaches for you, only to almost go under himself. He knows he has to think fast and reassess his plan of action, so he jumps out of the pool and runs further down, closer to where you are.

“Mom! Dad! Help,” he yells out, searching for something to throw to you. He spots a floatie nearby, and tosses it into the water near you. Unsure of if you can even really make out what he’s saying, he still tells you to grab it.

In a flash, your mother and father are next to him, terrified of the sight before them. Without hesitation, your father jumps in, successfully managing to grab your now limp body and pull you out of the water.

Your breathing is shallow, and your family begins to fear the worst. They shake your limbs in an attempt to wake you, but it doesn’t help. Your mother begins compressions, suddenly very thankful that she took those classes in the past, and your brother and father rush inside to call for help.

Despite it taking a few minutes, her actions are successful, and you come to. With a sputtering heave, you lean to side and cough up all of the water that had made its way into your lungs. Your mother pats your back and huddles next to you, tears streaming down her face. When the others return, they hurry to wrap you in their arms and embrace you. A few minutes pass as you all sit together, everyone happy that you’re alright.

Being the person that you are, you decide to use humor to deflect and cope with the insanity that just went down. “Welp… that was something. Let’s pretend I won that match, okay?” You suggest, looking at your brother with a trace of a smile playing on your lips. He shakes his head at you, confused at how you’re already joking about it, but he laughs nonetheless. “No way!”

As the memories begin to leave your mind, you attempt to get a grip on yourself; surely you had been away for a bit, and Jennie would likely be coming by to check on you any second now. Grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser, you wet the edge of it, and wipe the sweat that’s formed on your forehead and neck.

After drying yourself off and calming down, you exit the restroom and make your way back to the table. Jennie sends you a relieved look, as if to say, Thank God, I was worried. You manage to send her a fairly convincing smile, and she seems to accept it. Once seated again, she takes your hand into her own, rubbing her thumb in random patterns over your skin. You relax at the contact, and soon join back in with the conversation.

~~~~~~~

“Today was so much fun! Remember when they dropped Jisoo in super fast? That was hilarious!” Lisa and Rosé cackle at the thought, whooping loudly with laughter. Jisoo proceeds to smack them on the arm in response, saying, “Oh yeah? Well at least I could actually get a hole-in-one when we golfed; Lisa missed the ball completely!” The maknae glares at the other girl for flaming her like that, but soon they’re all trading playful insults and goofing around.

You hung back a few paces, allowing them to have their fun while your mind drifted back to what would surely happen later that evening. As much as you hated keeping something as big as that from them, you were a bit embarrassed. Out of everything there is to fear in the world, yours is water? On top of that, you didn’t want to let them down or spoil their fun; they’d been looking forward to this little trip for awhile, and you didn’t want to keep them from swimming and having a good time. Completely lost in all of the negative thoughts vying for your attention, you failed to notice Jennie approach you. She had picked up on the scowl that fell across your features, your brows furrowed and lips drawn tight in a line. It was clear that something was troubling you, so she went to investigate.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Her words come out softly, a gentle request for you to share what’s troubling you. When you stay silent for a bit longer than she likes, she stops walking, and you subconsciously do the same.

Releasing a sigh, your eyes cast away from hers, you respond, “It’s nothing, baby. I promise.”

For a moment, it seems like she’ll give in and accept your answer -- which, of course, is the one thing you desperately want. Knowing you better than that, though, she can see right through you; still, she decides to spare you this time. “I don’t believe that, jagi, but I’ll wait for you to tell me about it whenever you’re comfortable.”

“Thank you, Jennie. I will.” You wrap an arm around her, and she settles against your side as the two of you make your way through the hotel lobby.

~~~~~~~

This was a mistake in every sense of the word. Why didn’t you just stay in the room and let Jennie come down with the girls? They all wanted you there, but surely you could’ve at least tried to talk your way out of it.

The 5 of you scour the area surrounding the large pool, searching for a table and some chairs to recline in. Eventually, you see one in the distance, and lead the way there. With each new step towards your destination, the fear within you grows a little larger, and you wonder how hard it’ll be to keep pretending like you’re fine.

Once everyone has set their things down, they take their shoes off and begin to pull their hair up. You opt to sit down on one of the chairs and lay back, attempting to calm your nerves.

“You’re not coming in, Y/N?” Jisoo asks, her head tilted to the side.

You retrieve a book from the bag you brought down and hold it up, saying, “I’ll just hang here and get caught up with some reading. You guys go ahead.”

Jennie looks to you, but you simply open the book and pretend to be invested in the pages. Telling her about your fear is definitely not an option, especially at the current moment; if you do, you run the risk of throwing yourself into a panic attack. It’s all you can do to seem calm and collected right now, and you can’t afford to blow your cover like that.

She trails after the girls, albeit a bit dejectedly, and you release a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. Now able to take a moment for yourself, you look around: the evening is just as spectacular as the day had been before it, the deep colors of the imminent sunset lighting up the sky with their gorgeous patterns. Sunsets have always been one of your favorite things, so you take some time to enjoy the sight.

Jennie steals glances at you from her spot in the pool, making sure to keep an eye on you. It isn’t hard to see that something’s bugging you, but she knows not to push you to open up; she’s always willing to wait for you. A smile tugs on her lips when she sees your face brighten as you look at the sky, and she wishes whatever’s plaguing your mind would just go away. You deserve to be happy like this, a smile on your sweet face, right where it belongs. She wishes she could take away all of your struggles.

After a while, you’re now -- ironically -- invested in your book. The sound of Rosé calling for you draws your attention to the pool again, and you meet her eyes. “Y/N, my hair tie snapped. Do you mind bringing me one from my bag?”

Your breath hitches; you weren’t prepared for that one. With a gulp, you nod to her and attempt to send her a smile. It’s not like you could just say no. Your fingers shake slightly as you rummage through her bag in search of one of the bands, and you work to center yourself again. You can do this.

As you near the edge of the pool, your legs feel heavy, every step seemingly harder than the last. A strange sensation of numbness takes over your fingers -- something that almost always happens when you get this nervous -- and you subtly shake them to gain feeling again. “Here you go.” You manage to make the words sound cheery despite the inner battle you’re fighting.

“Thank you, love.” At her reply, you return from the crouched position you had been in when reaching it to her, and you think you’re home-free. About three steps later, as you’re walking back to your seat, everything changes.

“Go long!” Another hotel guest shouts from your left.

Before you can realize what’s happening and get out of the way, a body collides with yours, sending you into the pool. It all happens within an instant, and you don’t even have time to hold your breath for the impact. You hit the water with a splash, liquid already shooting up your nostrils.

Your mind is reeling with memories of that day, sending you into a series of flashbacks as you scramble to get to the surface. Strangely, you feel just like you had that day: the panicky feeling seeping in with no signs of stopping, your lungs burning as they plead for air, the feeling of your limbs thrashing hopelessly at the water.

Before long, two arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards the surface and side of the pool. You’d know those arms anywhere: they’re Jennie’s. She pats your back -- just as your mom had all those years ago -- and helps you cough out the water. Thankfully you hadn’t been under long, but it was still terrifying either way. The girls all trade scared looks as they do their best to comfort you and make you feel safe. Jennie can sense that you’re majorly overwhelmed, so she decides to take you somewhere that you can be alone and recover.

Once out of the pool, she quickly wraps a towel around your trembling body and leads you into the hotel lobby, sitting you down on a secluded couch that’s tucked away from everyone’s view. You eek out a quiet thank you, even in the state you’re in, needing to let her know how much you appreciate her help. She sits down beside you, settling into the comforter, and pulls you up against her chest. Soft, soothing circles are rubbed against your back, her other arm keeping your body snug against hers.

“It’s all gonna be okay, jagi. I’m here, you’re safe. I’ve got you, I promise.” Her lips are beside your ear -- she knows how distant things can sound to you when you’re having an attack. The hand on your back stops its motions; she brings it up your cheek, rubbing the skin there as you lay your head on her shoulder. Her lips press sweet, gentle kisses against your shoulder, and she thanks the universe when she feels you relax some. “I love you, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere.” Those words bring tears to your eyes, and some of them spill onto her arm; as she feels them, she almost starts crying with you. Seeing you upset like this always makes her emotional, but she does her best to stay strong for you.

“I’m sorry, Jennie.” Sobs rack your body, causing parts of the sentence to come out louder than others.

“For what, baby?” She pulls back enough to look into your eyes, her hand still on your cheek, moving slowly.

“That I didn’t tell you about what’s bothering me. I’m afraid of swimming; I had a traumatic experience with it in the past.”

“Oh, baby. It’s okay, you don’t have to be sorry. Do you want to tell me about it now?” Her words are so understanding and kind that you curse yourself for not telling her sooner. You simply nod in affirmation, and begin to relay the story. The entire time, her eyes never leave you, and she holds you close. Anytime a particularly hard detail for you to describe comes up, she strokes your hair and tells you to take as much time as you need. There’s no rush, and she makes sure you understand that.

Eventually, once you’re feeling loads better and are fully calmed down, you meet her gaze again. “Thank you for everything. I love you so much; I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you. You knew just what to do.” She smiles that earth-shattering smile of hers again, and if your heart wasn’t so tired from the time it just had, you know it would’ve skipped a beat. “That’s my job, baby.” Her eyes fall to your lips, in her unspoken request to kiss you. You grin, pulling her in closer, and connect your lips. She tastes like cherries and everything else that’s good in this world, and you revel in the fact that you’ll be the one kissing those lips for the rest of your life. The two of you part, both a little breathless as always, and you rest your foreheads together. “Let’s go see the girls.”

~~~~~~~

After many hugs, tears, and one long story later, all of you are in Lisa’s hotel room. The girls understood your fear and didn’t think any less of you at all; they wished, though, that you had told them sooner. They all want the best for you, and to see you happy, no matter what. Everyone is glad to see you doing better, and the mood is substantially brighter than it had been before.

“Did Lisa tell you that she beat that guy up for bumping into you?” Rosé asks, a smile on her face.

Lisa’s expression shifts into anger at the mere thought of him, and she says, “He deserved it, I’m not gonna let anyone get away with that.” She shrugs her shoulders, and all of you laugh at the fact that she actually roughed him up a bit.

“Can’t argue with that,” Jisoo says patting your back tenderly and sending you a smile.

“And she’ll do it again, BOP BOP!” Lisa says, causing everyone to burst out laughing. Jennie rolls her eyes at the other girl and buries her face in your shoulder, seeking shelter from the cringe.

“I love you guys.”

“We love you, too, Y/N.” They all say in unison… at least, as close as they can get to it.

Thanks for reading!!!

#jennie kim #jennie #jennie kim x reader #jennie x fem reader #blackpink #kpop blackpink #blackpink one shots #blackpink scenarios #blackpink imagines #jennie kim imagine #kpop scenarios #let-them-read-fics

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trillian-anders · 5 years

Text

the assistant

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: violence, angst, fluff, smut && SPOILERS

word count: 6.8k

description: part 1 of 5. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE FILM. you’ve been working for the thrombeys for four years now, the last three years of your service being a glorified babysitter to the most annoying, self-absorbed, dickhead hugh ransom drysdale.

You wanted to smack that dumb smirk off his stupid dumb face.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale. The bane of your fucking existence. Standing there with that stupid fucking smirk on his face, he fucking loved this. Watching as you cleaned up his mess. A crying girl on his doorstep and you, his assistant (aka babysitter), trying to calm her down enough to get her to leave his house. This dumb contemporary floor to ceiling windowed, minimalist, empty souled house. The girl had been picked up at a bar last night. Charmed by his handsome face, the money he was careless to spend, the way he spoke to you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

It was a fucking joke. A trick. You’ve seen it a million times and you’d be willing you bet that you’d see it a million more.

The door blocked her view of him, your clear view of him from the side, sipping on a mug of coffee in his hands and fucking smirking.

“He won't even see me?” You hated when they cried. Like each of them had this idea that they’d go home with Ransom Drysdale and fuck him so good that he’d tie them to his bed and never let them leave or something.

You sighed heavily before replying, “Mr. Drysdale has business to attend to, he’s unavailable at the moment, but I can leave him a message if you’d like?” You did this maybe five or six times a week. In the early morning hours, after his sexual escapade and some rest, Ransom would wake early and leave for the gym. In that time you were supposed to ‘take out the trash’ as he described it. This morning, the girl left dazed and confused in the fog taking an uber back to her home, but returning an hour later trying to plead her case. It was giving you a migraine.

The girl stepped back from the porch, shoes crunching against the gravel as she searched the windows for his face. “FUCK YOU RANSOM.” She shouted, flipping the bird into the air. The man hiding to your right, choked on his coffee in laughter as you watched the girl get back into her car and disappear from sight.

“What's on the agenda today Ransom,” You shut the door quietly, turning to face him, “Because if I have to do that again tomorrow I’ll quit.” He scoffed in indignation.

“You’re not gonna quit,” He drained the rest of his mug, “You can’t even leave the house long as you got that.” He gestured towards your leg. Sitting firmly on your right ankle was a house arrest bracelet. One meant for him, but carefully bribed into being put on your own leg. The stupid son of a bitch got away with murder, after the death of his late Grandfather’s housekeeper by his own hand and the attempted murder of the girl that got the entire Thrombey fortune, he stayed the lucky son of a bitch he had been his entire life.

Evidence was mishandled, not enough proof. That whole, ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ thing. The rich asshole got fucking house arrest and court mandated therapy. Even after there were three fucking witnesses to him attempting to murder Marta Cabrera.

Money oiled the gears of the justice system, letting the trust fund baby slip through without consequence. That’s where you come in.

You worked for the Thrombey’s before. As a tutor to Meg when she began to fail her english class. For whatever reason, Lynda and Richard Drysdale liked you, assigned you a new task. Their sweet baby boy Hugh, called Ransom by everyone but the Help. You’ve worked for Ransom for three years now. The first year before the death of his Grandfather and Thrombey patriarch, and now two years after his death and wouldn’t you know it. Hugh Ransom Drysdale wrote a fucking bestseller.

Everyone wanted an insight into this family. Harlan Thrombey always said there was so much of him in Ransom. He wasn’t lying.

Ransom wrote the first of what you knew would be many new Thrombey family murder mystery novels. And he was reaping in the cash. He was two months away from his next big release. Something you’re sure would fly off the shelves just as quickly as the first.

“Don’t worry,” He said, “I’ve got a deadline to meet.” His coffee mug abandoned by the front door for you to clean up, he left you to officially start your day. He retreated into the study he created for himself to crank out the last four chapters he needed for his book, maybe.

Due to circumstances beyond your control, you were the one placed on house arrest. As long as no one was notified that Ransom left the perimeter of the house you were being paid well, and you being paid well meant your younger sister gets taken care of. You were able to send her money every month to help with the fact that she was staying with an estranged aunt. It hadn’t been easy once your mother died, but the Thrombey’s lighten the load so to say.

That’s why you were washing Ransom’s sheets that reeked of sex, picking up and disposing of torn panties and tossing used condoms the fucking dick couldn’t be bothered enough to toss two more feet into the trash can in his on-suite. You’d invested in rubber gloves.

On days that Ransom had to meet with his probation officer he would wear a dummy bracelet. It got him by and soon the fucker would be over and done with house arrest all together. You’d be able to move back home then. Hopefully.

“Ransom, you ever gonna eat today?” You knocked on the open door of his study, bringing his attention from his computer to you, who held a bowl of pasta in your one hand. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. There were multicolored post-its surrounding his computer. Your mind made the connection with how similar it was to his Grandfather’s own workspace. You gently placed the bowl on his desk, turning to pour him a tumbler of whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room.

“I don’t know how the old bastard ever cranked out two books a year,” His neck cracked. “How is that even possible?” He took a large bite of the pasta, squinting at the screen. His eyes quickly shifted to yours, watching you set down the glass of whiskey in front of him. He grabbed your wrist. “Stay.” It was an order. “Sit.” You took your place in a chair across from him.

“Harlan wrote every day,” You told him, “You write whenever you’re not off sticking your dick into anything that breathes.” He laughed at that.

“Not everything that breathes,” He typed a few more words into the word document, “I haven’t fucked you yet.” Your core pulsed, he said yet.

Audibly you scoffed, “I would never willingly fuck you Ransom.” You pulled your legs up onto the chair to make yourself comfortable. He smirked at that, eyes not leaving the computer screen.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” That stupid smirk. You hated that fucking smirk. So condescending.

When you first met Ransom you were probably very much like the girls that you now pry out of his bed at 8 am. You had been tutoring Meg at the family home, sitting at the kitchen table going over Othello when he sauntered in, digging through the cabinets for snacks. You could feel Meg tense up next to you and that’s when he turned. He was so fucking pretty. Blue eyes, well kept hair, cashmere sweater, those broad fucking shoulders, and on his face, stretching that full bottom lip you wanted to tug between your teeth, was a smirk.

That pulsing throb between your thighs soon was quickly forgotten as he opened his mouth and began to speak, “How’s it going Meg, trouble reading? Or do they not teach you how to read when you’re a liberal? Lord knows you guys never fucking understand anything anyway.” Meg snapped back at him, but you were stunned. You could tell he said that on purpose, knowing it would make her go off on the tangent he was now, finding a sick pleasure in it. That was the first time you’d seen the smirk. You’d lost count of how many times you’ve seen it since then.

“I really hate you Ransom.” You sighed, sinking further into your chair. He had almost finished off the bowl of pasta by now, whiskey long since emptied. He thinks it’s funny, you hating him because he responds looking you in your eyes, maintaining his smirk,

“I know you do baby.” He liked to do that. Call you pet names. Once he had even pretended you were his wife when you accidentally walked in on him and a girl he had been balls deep in, bent over the back of the couch. He fucking LOVED that one. The girl had cried, embarrassed, apologizing as she picked her bra up from the floor and slunk out the front door behind you. That was a while ago. Pre-Murder. You should have seen it then. How insane he actually was.

Ransom was incredibly smart and was a quick thinker. It was part of the reason that he had gotten away with murder in the first place. You knew that. It showed in his novel. He would have you read chapters, give him your opinion, before writing and rewriting. Showing you again. He’d ask you if you could figure out who was the murderer, a sinister glint in his eyes, arms crossed, standing above you waiting. He could only be satisfied if you didn’t have a clue.

It was a gift, you supposed, the ease in which he wrote to make every character a possible suspect in completely new and incredible scenarios. He had three books in various states of completion that he was chipping away at, the one he was currently working on seemingly better than the previous published.

His Mother, the one who gave him the silver spoon and cursed him for having it his whole life, was suddenly proud of him. His Father, now divorced from his Mother, would come by weekly asking for money. Ransom loved that too. His Dad got nothing due to the prenup, leaving him penniless. The cushy job he had at Lynda’s real estate empire was gone, and now Dad was working at local agency scraping by on low commission. Last week his Father came to the door while Ransom was writing and muscled his way not too kindly past you into the house.

“Ransom!” He called, finding his way into his son’s study. You quietly shut the door, returning to folding laundry. The door shut tightly behind him and sounds had been muffled. It’s only when their voices went from calm to a screaming match did the door wretch open and Ransom followed his Dad out, both red faced.

“We’ve given you everything in your fucking life and you can’t even give one iota back.” Ransom opened the front door, gesturing to the porch.

“Get the fuck out, and don’t come back.” His voice stern and commanding.

“Fuck you Ransom.” With that he was gone. The silence that had settled over the house was thick, Ransom’s hand still resting against the closed door before he took a breath and, without taking a glance in your direction, returned to his study. Closing the door.

The echo of that argument sat in the house for the rest of the day, Ransom leaving soon after to find a body to lose himself in. If the murder trial did anything, it made Ransom into a bad boy and girls fucking loved it. He wasn’t, technically, guilty after all.

You attempted to clear the bowl in front of him, but was stopped by his hand. His eyes never left the screen as he brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss in your palm, before dragging your arm to his other shoulder, hugging himself with it awkwardly until you gave in and wrapped your other arm around him, holding him tightly for a moment.

He was soft sometimes. His Mom never held him when he was a kid. He was left alone a lot while she was building her empire. Babysitters never stayed long, nannies came and went. Sometimes you truly felt bad for him, other times you remember that he was a dick and that he loved to play tricks and torment anyone and everyone that was supposed to take care of him, including you. The only difference was you weren’t able to leave.

He let you go soon after that, letting you clean up the mess from dinner and stoke the fire place warming the house that always seemed too cold. As you stood by the fire, arms wrapped around yourself you could feel him behind you, coming to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder as you stared into the flames. There was a moment or two of silence as you both stood there.

If this were any other situation, if Ransom loved you, if this was someone who loved you, if this someone cared enough to care about the things you care about, this would be kind of romantic. But it’s Ransom, and he didn’t care about anyone but himself, he definitely didn’t care about you, and he one hundred percent didn’t care about anything you care about. “I’m going out.”

His arms left your waist and his chest left your back leaving you cold. “For fucks sake Ransom, I don’t feel like throwing out a girl tomorrow morning.” You turned to watch him throwing his coat on. He smirked. He fucking smirked.

“I’ll give you a break and throw her out myself then.” And he was gone.

Hours later you’re woken by the sound of Ransom coming home, sure enough he wasn’t alone. Soft giggles and a bang, he’s shoved her against the wall beside your room. There were muffled groans as you assumed she found her knees right there in the hallway. He got off on this shit, you knew. Often stopping somewhere outside your door to start his sexual escapades. Knowing you were mere feet away, like some half-assed exhibitionism. It wasn’t long after that the girl squealed and there was more muffled talking before they moved to his bedroom. To which you shared a wall.

Your bedroom, before you were a live-in, housed a bunch of items you believed graced a teen boy’s bedroom walls at one point. And still, shoved in the corner, were playboy model cardboard cutouts, “They’re vintage, mint condition, and worth a lot.” Sure, Ransom, sure they are. Arcade games, framed patriots jerseys, a lacrosse set from his high school days. You were shoved in the middle of it all, a single bed shoved against the wall surrounded by what once was a room full of teenage boy memorabilia. A shrine to his youth.

The headboard soon came knocking and hope for sleep was lost. The girl’s moans escalating to shrieks. Either he was as good as he says, or these girls really care about his ego. Either could be true when there’s more than one comma in your bank account.

The kitchen was much quieter. A steady rocking still came from upstairs, but thankfully it was muffled by the floor. As you made a cup of tea you figured you would see if he had printed off a new chapter ready for you to read. You hope he wouldn’t have gone out without finishing it anyway.

You were not sure why you cared to be honest. You had this love/hate for Ransom. He was an annoying prick who did something really fucking horrible, but he also made it very clear to everyone involved that you had nothing to do with it. There was a scary moment there, after his arrest, when you were brought to the station for interrogation. You hadn’t known he had even gotten up to any of these crimes. He kept you completely in the dark and he was sure to let his arresting officers know that. You hadn’t even seen him since the night Harlan died when he left the party stranding you at the estate.

Money does crazy things to people. The threat of his steady income leaving was enough to push him to do something crazy. He was lucky enough that the recorded confession magically was erased. He was lucky for dirty cops. He was lucky that even though his mother despised his lifestyle she didn’t want him to go to prison. He was so lucky. Now with his first novel sitting highly on the bestseller list, he seemed even more lucky than he did before.

His study was on the opposite side of the house from his bedroom, muffling the sounds enough for you to flip through the packet left on top of his keyboard. Three chapters away from completion you were following the detective through paces where things felt more confusing than ever, the clues were unclear and there was not much to go on, but the tension between the eldest son of the victim and his ex-wife were mounting and it was hard to believe that maybe this guy had nothing to do with it despite what was described as an ‘air-tight’ alibi. You read through the chapter twice, scribbling your thoughts in red pen along the margins.

“What do you think?” You jumped in your chair, looking up to see Ransom in the doorway.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Your hand still clutching your chest. He had a glass of water in his hand, chest bare, solid navy pajama pants slung low on his hips. His chest hair always got you, just a little bit. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and pushed off the door jam to walk into the room, taking a seat in the chair you occupied hours ago. “It’s good,” you cleared your throat, “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you to finish to be honest.” He chuckled softly.

“Let me see.” You handed him the packet and his eyes scanned the margins, reading your comments. They were mostly reactions, that’s what he liked. He wanted to know how you reacted to everything he put in front of you, did you like the romance, the tension, the lust he was trying to write between the ex-husband and wife? Or was it too distracting from the plot? Is the detective too unbelievable? He’s a character for sure. Can you figure out whodunnit yet?

“What are you doing out of bed?” You asked, spinning the chair side to side, waiting for him to put the packet down.

“I told you I was going to kick her out.” He took another sip from his water. You scoffed,

“And you couldn’t start doing this sooner?” A smile stretched his lips,

“I like how much it bothers you.”

“It’s annoying,” you said, “Worst way to start my day.” He laughed.

“That’s the only reason?” He asked, throwing the packet back on the desk, leaning back in his chair. Smirking.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You pushed back from the desk, moving to exit the room. He quickly grabbed your wrist, tugging you over to his side where he looked up at you,

“If you wanna take their place, just let me know.” Your other hand came up to smack him on his shoulder, causing him to laugh as he released you, letting you take your exit.

“Dick.”

You found him the next morning at his desk, looking as though he had very little sleep. “Babe could you get me some coffee?” You yawned in the doorway,

“Sure.” It didn’t take long before you were setting the cup in front of him. “Your therapist is coming by at one.” He nodded, not looking up from his computer. “I’ll come get you when it’s time for you to get ready.”

He was focused. You weren’t sure where this focus came from. It was every once in a while that he would find this stroke of inspiration and write for a whole day straight. Hopefully he will be finished his book before schedule and be able to get ahead for the next one.

Soon he was washed, dressed, and ready for the one person he dreads the most. He hated therapy sessions. There were only ten more he needed to do before the court mandate was over. Ten more weeks until you were able to get this lovely ankle bracelet off when you would hopefully be able to go back to the routine you had with him before. Where you’d sleep in your own shitty apartment and show up to work a 9 to 9 five days a week.

After sessions he was always moody, quiet, and tended to need his favorite single malt restocked the next day. Not exactly in line with how he should be tending to whatever revelation the therapist has been streamlining him to, but that wasn’t any of your business. You could say though that during the last 42 weeks of sessions this refractory period was shortening to less and less time, maybe tonight you won't be peeling him off the floor of the study and dragging him up to his room drunk off his ass.

While in the session you were trying not to listen in on, you were sunk heavily on the living room couch, drinking coffee and reading the latest chapter he had slapped into your hands before entering back into his study. The book was so close to being finished, the last two chapters leading you to the big reveal and aftermath. The climax was steady taking hold and you were more sure than ever that the eldest son had something to do with it. You didn’t know what he did, but it was something.

He looked mad enough to kill as the Doctor left. Slamming the door, barely missing the Doctor’s jacket sleeve as he made his hasty retreat. Ransom stood seething for a moment by the front door, a chill running down your spine. He had murdered someone before, something you try to forget seeing as you are forced to spend so much time with him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. It felt like an hour before he moved.

“I’m going out.” The words spoken sternly as he stomped his way up the stairs like a petulant child, returning moments later, cleaned up, eyes blank, before grabbing his coat and slamming the door loud enough to make you jump.

Aside from Ransom’s Mother never being around and aside from his Father’s string of extramarital affairs and aside from his Grandfather’s need to push him in every direction but close, you wish you could say that Ransom had a good childhood. But he didn’t. When he was little the kids picked on him for being rich, and when he was bigger they only became friends with him because he was rich. He was such a bully. At least, that’s what his Mother told you once drunk off chardonnay at his birthday dinner last year.

Disappointment.

That was a clear sentiment for the small family get together, and by small family get together you meant the dinner you cooked and Ransom looking like he’d rather be in prison than listen to his parents bicker over his Father’s new (Not so new seeing as he’d been caught kissing her by a PI before Harlan’s death) girlfriend. She was smart enough not to come.

This night was looking a lot like that one. Ransom, after his parents left and you began to tidy up, began to scream at you.

“What gave you the fucking right you dumb bitch?” He was spitting, face red as you cleared the dishes. “You’re only here for the money. The fucking money. How much is she paying you huh?” The bottle of expensive whiskey he had been drinking throughout the night was in his hand, swinging it around and taking pulls straight from the bottle. “Not enough obviously because you would have let me fuck you a long time ago.”

Your face flushed red as your own anger began to rise. He continued, “Never, ever, fucking again will you allow my parents in this house, do you understand me?” His unoccupied hand grabbed your arm tight enough to bruise, turning you to face him. His eyes wild and unfocused. “I said do you understand me?” You not so gently wretched your arm from his.

“Don’t touch me.” He always fucking did this. Blamed you for things you had no control over. Lynda approached you about a dinner for Ransom’s birthday. It was her name in your paystubs. You can’t say no.

“How dare you-” He began, but was cut short.

“No Ransom. No.” Like scolding a fucking dog who put his paws on the table. You threw the bowl you currently had in your hands into the sink, turning to fully face him. “I am only here for the money and I am only here because your Mother pays me a lot to be here.” His jaw clenched. “But I’m also here because I’m the only fucking person who even remotely cares about your ungrateful prissy spoiled ass and if it wasn’t for me you’d be sitting in this fucking glass house, alone, with only your own self-righteous attitude to keep you company. So don’t you ever touch me like that again. Do you understand?”

He loudly clunked the bottle onto the kitchen island, stumbling in your direction as you backed yourself into the sink. His trial had just concluded two weeks ago, Fran’s murder fresh on your mind and you wondered if you just made a terrible mistake. Over the course of this rant, the alcohol was sinking into his bloodstream, it turned his anger into a crippling depression. One that resulted in his hands softly grasping your shoulders, and tugging you into his body. His face found your neck and slowly started to grow damp with what you realized were his tears.

Your heart broke a bit, too much empathy, even for this asshole. Your arms came to wrap around his shoulders, letting him cry it out.

That was the first and only time you saw Ransom cry over anything. If he hadn’t been as drunk as he was you knew that moment would never have happened. The sweet little moment that made your heart ache was quickly gone the next morning when Ransom made you coffee and thought it would be hilarious that after you thanked him for being so sweet he joked that he poisoned it. You could still recall the cackles of laughter as you spit your coffee into the sink.

That was the day he began writing his first novel.

He came home alone tonight which was strange. And far earlier than normal. You usually were in bed, or holed up in his study by the time he arrived him after a night out. Staying out of his way as he drug a bubbly hopeful girl up to his bed to satisfy his own needs for the night. He found you tonight, sitting outside, watching Netflix on your tablet by the firepit you had decided to light, a hot cup of tea sitting on the end table next to you. Cozy and wrapped in a blanket.

You could feel his eyes on you from the doorway. You tapped the screen, pausing your show and turned to look at him. His hair was slightly mussed, face flushed, and socked toes curling from the chill. He was looking at you strangely.

“You’re home early.” You placed the tablet down on the end table, turning to face him. He nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jam.

“I just needed a drive.” There was a soft smile on his face, well that’s new.

“Is everything okay?” He never tells you anything, but the sentiment matters. He looked to his feet, nodding.

“I’m probably going to try to stay up and finish the book tonight.” He shifted himself back into the house, your voice calling out to him,

“Come sit out here for a bit. It’s calming, just take a break from thinking for a minute.” He sighed and looked at you again, debating something in his head.

“I need to be alone.” You tried anyway. He disappeared from sight. And that was that.

The next day Ransom began acting even more strangely. The book was finished, the last two chapters handed wordlessly to you as he left for the gym on what you’re assuming was no sleep. That wasn’t the strange part. The strange part was when he returned three hours later bearing a box of donuts from your favorite bakery and two lattes, on his face was a smile.

“What did you do?” You accused, “Did you poison this?” You gestured towards the latte he placed in your hand.

“No.” He laughed, sliding the box of donuts to you. You stared at him skeptically before taking a sip. Tastes normal.

“Are you sick?” Your wrist coming to lay across his forehead, temperature feels fine.

“No.” He laughed again, pulling your wrist from his forehead and kissing your palm before opening the box of donuts, pulling a cinnamon sugar donut to his lips. “You just told me the other day how you missed these and I figured since I passed the shop on the way back it wouldn’t hurt to go pick some up.” It was suspicious. You continued to look at him skeptically. He sighed, placing the donut on the counter, grabbing the latte from your hand he took a large sip of it. “I didn’t fucking poison you Y/N.”

Okay.

Okay. You examined the box of donuts, pulling out the bear claw that was begging to be eaten. Still warm. You moaned in delight as soon as the warm pastry hit your taste buds. You really had missed these. Opening your eyes, you saw Ransom staring blankly at you before his eyes shifted to the packet by your side.

“All finished?” You swallowed and nodded, sliding the packet marked with red over to him and as he began to study your notes you tried to think about what could have possibly gotten him in such a good mood. The Doctor’s visit was odd enough. Yes he was angry when the Doctor left, but then just a drive? Not a blackout drunk, bringing two girls home to pleasure himself with and accidentally falling into a line or two of coke night, but a drive?

Maybe therapy had been working? Maybe he had a breakthrough? He finished the novel. The eldest son had something to do with it, his airtight alibi just that, a cover for the crime having been committed at a different time than the coroner’s estimated time frame due to him freezing the body and allowing it to thaw in the house.

You had asked Harlan how he came up with such incredible stories once. He said they just popped into his head fully formed, his brain moving faster than his fingers. He kept a little notebook with good ideas and would simmer in them as long as it took for a stroke of inspiration. The rest was just typing.

He smirked at some of your comments, ‘what a fucking joke’ you wrote next to the eldest son’s monologue about being passed over, his whining, annoying, self centered crying about how life wasn’t fair.

“What’s the smirk for?” You asked, removing the lid of your latte and dipping part of the bear claw in it.

“The lack of sympathy for Greg.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“He’s a fucking loser.” Ransom’s eyes met yours, “I bet you see a lot of yourself in him.” That made him laugh.

“What? You don’t like spoiled rich men?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You rolled your eyes, taking another sip from the milky sweet latte you didn’t know would feel like your life’s blood right now.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“I think you find me endearing.” Ransom smirked. Your neck flushed.

“I find you annoying,” You admitted. “I only put up with you because of my paycheck.” He licked his lips.

“Sure,” He closed the packet, pushing it aside to take another bite of the donut, cinnamon sugar dusting his lips. “You put up with me because you’re secretly in love with me, but you know that I would never get with The Help.” This made you laugh.

“If you want me to be the Help I’ll gladly call you Hugh if it means you leave me alone.” He placed his paper cup on the counter, circling around to you.

“I like when you call me Hugh.” His hands came to rest on your upper arms, grinning.

“You’re disgusting.” He laughed at the clear displeasure on your face, spinning your stool around to him, and you leaned back, creating some distance as he came to stand between your legs.

“You don’t mean that do you baby?” His fingers toying with the ends of your hair. You could feel your nipples harden in excitement, body betraying you. A wet growing between your legs.

“Ransom what are you doing?” You said in exasperation. You weren’t blind. Ransom was gorgeous. You’d maybe, possibly, gotten off to the thought of him once or twice or maybe more than that in the four years you’ve known him. But he was also a scumbag who fucks and then throws girls out hours later. His moods were hot and cold. He had major Mommy issues and he’s not technically guilty of murder, but he’s a fucking murderer. But also… he’s been going to therapy and after that fight on his birthday last year he’s never laid a hand on you in anger again, there’s been some arguments sure, but he’s mostly nice to you. Caring even.

“Why don’t you love me Y/N?” His voice almost came out as a whine. He was playing with you.

“Ransom stop.” You pushed him away gently. He was fucking smirking.

“Usually there’s a ‘don’t’ in front of that.” Cocky bastard.

“You’re the worst person I know. And I hate that fucking smirk.” You picked at your now cold bear claw, trying to turn from him.

“Why don’t you wipe it off my face then?” Your eyes met his and you glared.

“What’s gotten into you today? Maybe you should go out early. Find some girl to satisfy whatever you’re going through right now.” His hands met your hips, spinning your stool back around to face him.

“What if I want you to satisfy whatever I’m going through right now.” His groin fit right up against your core and you could feel his throbbing heat between your legs. Fuck.

“Don’t make this mistake Ransom.” You placed one hand gently on his chest, attempting (but not really) to push him back. His forehead coming to rest against yours. “You don’t want this.”

“This is the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.” His breath mingled with yours, sweet, cinnamon and coffee.

“You’re not thinking straight.” His lips brushed against yours, tongue coming out to wet his lips, his eyes locked with yours. Why weren’t you pushing him away? Your breath hitched as his tongue accidentally grazed your bottom lip.

“The only clarity I’ve ever had in my life has been when I’m with you.”

His lips pressed heavily against yours, pushing you back against your bedroom door as his hand came to tangle in your hair. He was all consuming, body hot and heavy against yours. Your core was thrumming with want, moisture pooling in the crotch of your yoga pants. His hips were rolling into yours and you could feel the hard length of him against your belly. His lips quickly moved across your jaw to your neck and you could hear yourself moaning softly as he licked, sucked, and nibbled on the sensitive skin below your ear. Your hands clenching the soft material of the t-shirt by his hips, dipping your fingers slowly into the waistband of his shorts.

His lips parted from your neck, hand tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes before taking your mouth once more. His mouth moved down this time to the tops of your breasts, hands leaving to shift the thick wool cardigan off your shoulders and onto the floor before dropping the straps of your camisole and exposing them to the air, nipples already pebbled in excitement.

You hadn’t dated in a while, unable to because of your paid house arrest and before that the way Ransom had worked you to the bone picking up after him. And the touch from someone else always felt better than your own. His hands felt huge on you, protecting.

Your head met the door as he enveloped your right nipple in his mouth, rolling the sensitive bud on his tongue until he felt the left neglected, and switched, beginning to toy with your right nipple between his finger tips. Moans and heavy breaths were the only sounds in the hallway as Ransom made his way down your body, slipping your yoga pants and panties off your hips as he found his knees before you.

“Ransom-”

“Shhhhh,” He pressed his lips against your naval, working his way to your trembling core. His hand lifted your right thigh, draping it over his shoulder as his eyes focused in on your, what you knew must be soaking, wet pussy. His eyes met yours from his knees, your legs trembling with anticipation, eyes locked as his pink tongue came to meet your pussy for the first time, a shuddering breath being released from you urged him on further.

His thick fingers spread your lips open, exposing your clit to his gentle assault. A building pleasure in your core as his tongue began to skillfully work, pulling moans from your mouth. How was he so good at this? Experimenting with different strokes, different pressure, finding what you like.

“Just like that, oh my god.” He rolled his tongue against your clit, eyes finding yours once more, keeping pace. You could see the corner of his mouth pull up in a smirk as he began to work you up to climax. “You’re such a fucking asshole, I hate that fucking smirk.” Head hitting back against the door as he used his fingers to tease your opening. “Oh my god.” Your hips bucked against his face, causing him to use the arm currently wrapped around your thigh to splay open on your abdomen, holding your hips still. The wet noises and soft grunts from the man between your thighs only caused you to grow closer to your release.

“You taste so fucking good baby,” moaned between your thighs.

“Don’t fucking stop.” You scolded. So close. So fucking close. He obeyed, continuing his assault on your dripping pussy, fingers entering your tight channel to stroke against your sensitive walls. He buried his face further into your pussy, nose coming to rest in the soft curls there as he watched you come undone. Your moans escalating in volume as you felt your body tighten with pleasure, hips begging to buck against his face as he rode you through it. He continued to lick and suck on your clit until your hands found his head, pushing him away, legs shaking as you dropped against the door, knees coming to rest around his body.

That fucking smirk, “How was that?” He asked, face glistening with your cum.

“Fuck you Ransom.” And he fucking laughed the bastard. What a fucking dick. He brought his face back to yours, gently claiming your lips. The tang of your pussy ever present as you felt him consume you. Your heart was still racing as he picked you up from the floor, bringing you into his bedroom and ever so gently laying you down on the sheets you had just changed two hours ago.

His eyes were shifting between yours, a strange expression on his face.

“You can’t kick me out tomorrow Ransom,” Your breathing was heavy as he began to work at your neck, his hands going to remove his gym shorts. “I can’t leave.” He pressed his lips back to yours as you felt him rub the tip of his dick against your clit, your body shaking with over-stimulation. It felt so intimate. Before, his eyes on yours as he brought you over with his tongue and now as he slowly enters you, stretching your walls with his thick cock, eyes not breaking contact he sighs,

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #chris evans

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