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blackwoolncrown · 4 years ago

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”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

not

fucking

talk

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

#acab

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jazz-miester · 4 years ago

Text

Lying is supposed to be easy. So why do you make it so hard?

Pairing: Optimus Prime X Reader

Song: weathers- c'est la vie

Warnings: Bit of angst. Cursing.

An: A character/story idea I may never write. Let me know what all of you think!

A cigarette hangs loosely from thier lips. Unlit. The lighter they had pulled out wove around thier fingers. Y/n's mind still undecided if they wanted it lit or not. Granted, it wasn't a normal cigarette. Herbal. Some sort of lavender and chamomile medley.

They had promised to quite long ago. But some habits die hard and it's easier to find an alternative than fall back on old vices.

Thier hands shook slightly as they finally brought the lighter to the cigarette. On hand curling protectively around the flame and the wind howled around then.

Rain fell heavily down to the earth. The first rain in Jasper Nevada since god knows when. They needed it. Desperate for it.

God's knew they missed it. Some old memory locked away in thier mind. Cobwebs dusted away from thier not to long ago childhood.

They were barely into thier adulthood. Some would say.

It doesn't matter.

Smoke spilled out from between thier lips. Curling around and drifting into the cool air.

Thunder roared from the dark clouds. A sounding trumpet for lighting to follow.

Y/n's old chevy rattled with it. Thier heater sputtering a few times before finally giving up. Soon blasting cool air instead. They cursed. Smacking the dashboard.

"Mother fucker." They hung thier hand out the window. The cigarette almost put out by the wind. "First the fucking tire then this." Y/n hisses through thier teeth. They smack the dashboard one more time. "Last time I let someone else work on you." They turn the truck off. The silence sudden and heavy broken only by the rumbling thunder and rain smacking against the trucks roof.

Y/n checks thier phone. It was six now. Two more hours before nightfall. The tow company said they be here four hours ago. They wonder if the company decided to stay because if the rain. Wait for it to pass. Maybe this wind knocked down a power pole or two.

Or maybe the company was just lazy.

Y/n's stomach growled and they glanced over at the take out in the worn seat next to them. Chicken teriyaki and rice. Should they eat now? Probably. Before it got cold.

They blew out another huff of smoke. The window frame was wet now. As well as part of thier leg. They smashed the end of the cigarette into the ashtray and rolled thier window up. The hand crank sticking momentarily before letting go with a squeak.

They began to eat. Still keeping an eye out for the tow truck in the rapidly dimming light.

Halfway through eating thier phone buzzed. Rattling across the dashboard and onto the floor. Cursing they swallowed thickly and sputtered. Clearing thier throat before answering.

"Hello?" The phone cracked in and out. Reception was spotty this far out if town.

"We..... Can't..... Unable." Thier phone screen lit up. They held it out in front of then. The screen cracked. Obscuring part of what they could see. They looked at the number on the phone. Then to the one on the crumpled piece of paper.

"You have to be shitting me." They tossed the styrofoam back into the seat. The plastic fork falled to the ground. It was the tow company.

The bastards. Couldn't have called sooner.

Fuck it. They'd walk home and tow it themselves in the morning. Before work.

Or at least they would have if it weren't for the rumbling semi heading thier way. It came to a stop next to them. Engine deep and rumbling. It was fake. They knew. Ment to imitate earth's vehicles.

Thier phone rang. An image flashed across the screen with the caller id. Optimus. He had looked all to peaceful in that field to not take a picture.

"Hey Big Guy." They chuckled.

"Y/n. Hello. Is everything alright?" Y/n snorted. Oh fucking peachy they were. First they were late for work. Got yelled at by thier boss for shit they didn't do. Had thier piece of shit phone stolen so they had to go fucking find it. Paid sixty bucks to get it back. Had some dickhead think they didn't know shit about vehicles so they tried to scam them.

And the list goes on.

They looked over at the semi as they spoke.

"I'm fine Prime." Optimus rocked on his wheels.

"Are you sure? I was unaware one could drive with a blown tire." Y/n scoffed. Brows shooting upwards with disbelief.

"You sarcastic-" They cut themselves off. "You here to make fun of me?" The truck rumbled.

"No. I'm here offer help." He paused. "You have been here for over six hours." How. Oh ya. Patrol. They forgot he frequently came through here to and from base.

"I. Ya. I could use the help." They hated admitting that. That they needed help. They knew they could manage and y/n always felt like they owed the person back.

Optimus pulled in front of their chevy. An unspoken "I'll tow you" hung in the air. He would. Optimus knew they would come back shortly to get their truck back. Might as well help so they don't try to do it in the dark.

They were shivering and slightly soaked when they finally got in the driver's seat. Optimus wordlessly turns the heater on. Angling the vents to point at them.

"Sorry for tracking water in." Y/n muttered. Doing their best to wipe off any excess water that got inside.

"There's no need for apologies." The semi pulled away from the side of the road and began to drive. Slightly clicking gears as he rumbles downwards. Rain splattered across the windshield. Wipers working overtime to keep it away. They new it was more for them than him.

His headlights were dim, they noticed. Barley lighting up the old gray road.

It was silent. Comfortable.

It was dark now. Even more so without the full moon. Heavy cloads still cloaking the sky.

"Are the kids home?" Y/n broke the silence.

"Yes. I had to drop Rafael off at home." That's right. Bumblebee has been busy on a scouting mission. He's supposed to be back tomorrow. Short. By cybertronian standards.

It's been almost a month for us.

There's was flashing in the distance. Orange hues erie in the heavy rain. They can make out more shapes the closer they get. A red blob turning into a car. Two small blurs turned out to be a couple.

Optimus stops next to them at their urging.

Y/n hope out immediately. The rain quickly soaking through their thin shirt.

"What seems to be the matter?" Y/n asks. A woman turns around. Hand on her obviously pregnant belly. "Well shit." They mutter.

"Our tire blew out on the way to Jasper." The woman brushes a few strands of soaked hair out of her face. "Me and my son can't seem to get the tire changed. We umm." They look over at their kid. Some tiny teen trying to pull the bolts off the best they could. The car wast quite high enough off the ground either.

"Do you want help?" They already began rolling their soaked sleeves up thier arm. A simple tattoo wove from thier wrist up to thier elbow. A memento from a close friend. The woman nodded vigorously.

"Yes please." Y/n points the woman towards Optimus. They hope he wouldn't mind.

"Please Ma'am. I don't want you catching cold." Her cheeks flush. "The kid can help if they want. But they can get out of the rain if they want." The kid grins at them, missing one or two front teeth.

"I can help!" Y/n chuckles and pulls the tire iron gently from thier hands.

"Well then. Let's get going." They popped the bolts off one by one. They themselves straining despite the fact that could easily toss tires like these around. Y/n lifted weights to get stronger and boxed to defend themselves. Thier muscles flexing beneath thier shirt a testament to that.

"God. Who stuck these fu-friggen things on." The kid laughed.

"My cousin." Well damn.

It took a few moments and a bashed finger later to change the tire. Y/n was thoroughly soaked by the time they finished. Practically drowning from the rain.

They helped the women down and out from Optimus. Both of them none the wiser to the alien next to them.

The two got into the car and drove off. Y/n watches as the car gets smaller and smaller until the rain completely obscures thier view.

They grab into the handle next to Optimus's door and hoists themselves up. Smacking thier boots to get off any mud or debris before getting inside.

"Well now I'm even more wet." Y/n snorts and peels thier shirt off. They had a tank top underneath. It sticks to thier skin uncomfortably.

Optimus hums. The deep sound rumbling in the cab. Y/n pats thier pockets fully intending to light another cigarette before remembering where they're at. More precisely, who, they are with.

Instead they pull out a stick of gum. The minty flavor almost overpowering.

Optimus hums again. A sign they've come to find, was of him thinking. A habit he never broke of even after becoming Optimus Prime. Perks of being his charge they guessed.

They never knew why he did that. Became thier guardian. Y/n was well enough an adult. Had a house, payed the bills. They never understood and didn't plan on it anytime soon. Optimus was Optimus and he does what he does. He was one of the few people they never second guess thier opinion.

They held a lot of respect for the old mech.

More so than a lot of people in thier life. They wondered if he knew that. He could tell them to leap off a cliff and they would. Trusting him to be there to catch them.

It took a lot to earn that trust. And they had given it to him. With shaking palms and to high walls.

'Here'. Their actions said. 'Here is the key. Open the door and you hurt me. Guard it. Please. Because I am unable to anymore.'

And Optimus did. Because Optimus is Optimus. A being to good for this world.

Y/n had a scar that reached from thier shoulder to the small of thier back. It would have killed them if Optimus didn't step in. They got the relic. Optimus got thier trust and friendship.

"You do that often." Y/n head jerks up from where it had been resting against the window. Startled from thier thought.

"Do what, Prime?" Optimus slowed down. Rolling to a general stop at the battered stop sign.

"Help others without question. Despite it often being inconvenient for you." Y/n pops thier gum. Thinking.

They never really thought about it. They just did what felt right.

"And?" They scratch at thier neck.

"Why?" A simple one word question. Might as well been a loaded gun. They knew exactly where he was taking this.

"Because I can. Because it's the right thing to do. Because I'd want someone to do it for my friends and family." Optimus rumbled his engine. Pulling off to the side of the road.

Son of a bitch. He's gonna make them do feelings now?

Last time it was from a simple, yet self deprecating joke. Last thing they will joke about around him again was being dumber than a box of rocks. Who knew the old guy could be so silently, and heavily caring without a single word.

"And what about you? Would you not like help as well?"

The rain lessened to a drizzle now. No way we're they gonna do this shit. Not again. Don't make them face things yet.

Y/n reaches to open the door.

Optimus locks it shut.

"Fucken hell man." They mutter. Not for the last time they began wishing for an actual cigarette.

"Hmm." They sunk down in the driver's seat uselessly pushing at the gas pedal urging for him to go on.

"You can ask. You do know this." Y/n chuckles.

"I did." They wave thier hand at the steering wheel. "I called the tow company. Not my fault they didn't call me till forever later." Optimus sinks down on his tires. If they don't wrap this up now and tell him what he wants to here they'll be here forever.

But he can tell when they're lying.

They both loath and like it.

They can be truthful to him. But sometimes it hurts. Because he makes them feel. He makes them know.

They're people to. And they deserve so much more that they give themselves.

Deserve more than the punishing pace they put themselves through.

"And no one else? What would you have done after?" Y/n shrugged thier shoulders.

"Walked home and make tomorrow me deal with it. They're a bitch in the morning but they get shit done."

Shit.

"And you would call no one? Again?" They shake their head.

"It's just a tow Optimus. Not me bleeding the fuck out." They feel bad. A sour taste in thier mouth as they bite their answer out.

"You where feverish and unable to walk last time." His voice was low. Almost sad. He was upset without showing it.

He cares. Cares so much.

He cares enough about me for the both of us.

"It's fine."

"No."

"I.." I shiver. The heater turns on. "Lying 'spose to be easy. Why do you make it so fucking hard." Optimus rumbles.

"Because you care." He's right.

"And so do I. I am here. Always. No matter what. No matter how trivial you think it is Y/n. I am here. And, as you like to say, I am stuck to your side whether you like it or not." He begins to drive. His words stick to me.

"I know. It's hard." Its hard when you don't think you deserve it. Any of it.

I lay my hand on the center of the steering wheel.

"I know. I know. But I will tell you again and again. Until you truly believe it y/n."

I was lost before him.

God's I hate that he makes me feel. Feel more than I ever have. But he got me to quite one bad habit. And he's working on the other.

#maccadam #transformers #tfp optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfp optimus x reader #transformers fanfiction #transformers prime

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dhwty-writes · 4 years ago

Note

hi! I have a prompt, if you like: what if Geralt hangs up mistletoe to get Jaskier to kiss him? :)

ELLIE, what a galaxy brained concept! It’s so silly and the gay panic is rampant in this one, my friends. The Kaer Morons being a bumbling pack of idiots and Geralt ridiculously pining after Jaskier? Coming right up!

Summary: Geralt is in love with Jaskier. In order to finally get him to admit his feelings, he devises a ten step plan with Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir.

Warnings: NONE, this is tooth-rotting fluff

Read on AO3

There was a conspiracy of the highest order brewing in the Continent involving no less than four witchers, their horses, a goat, and an unsuspecting bard. It is known under many names, including, but not limited to, Operation Home Sweet Home, Gods Save us from your Fucking Pining, and Get Vesemir's Blessing (and Mission Let's Get Geralt Laid, but that was from Lambert and therefore stupid).

They had laid out the Conspiracy in a set of carefully calculated steps last winter with the help of Vesemir's Wise Words and truly copious amounts of alcohol. Once he saw the whole list sober, Geralt had nearly chucked it into the fireplace out of mortification. Good thing Eskel and Lambert had been nearby to wrestle the slip of paper out of his hands.

Only after the creation of at least half a dozen copies was he trusted with it again. He frowned down at the sheet. It was simple, really. A simple ten-step-plan. He could do that.

Step One: Stop fucking staring out of windows and sighing longingly. (Shut up, Lambert.) Get back on the Path and find Jaskier.

Now, at least that was easy enough. Not for the first time since their acquaintance they had agreed upon a meeting place to come find each other as soon as the snows would allow it. Most of the years Geralt would arrive a little late; because even if they chose a spot closer to Kaer Morhen than Oxenfurt, the Killer was usually impassable for a long time.

A few years they had been lucky and could set out relatively early in spring. Geralt hadn't felt lucky at all, sitting in a lonely tavern corner day in, day out, waiting for a familiar bright-coloured bard to fill his life with light again. He had felt terrified, most of all.

So, this year when he set out to the Path, an already crumpled list clutched tightly in his hand, he was even more on edge than normally. He didn't think he could take Step One failing already, and the mortifying possibility of Jaskier lying dead in a ditch. He might just climb up that mountain again and never come back down.

Luckily, Geralt — and Vesemir — were saved from that miserable fate. When Geralt threw open the tavern door in some backwater Kaedwen town, Jaskier was there already. He was peacocking around in his usual manner, enticing his sparse audience with his captivating presence. When his eyes fell on Geralt, though, his three half-drunk spectators were soon forgotten.

The bard gasped and slung his lute onto his back, vaulting off the stage to come rushing over to him. "You're here!" Geralt stood ready, his arms spread wide to catch Jaskier when he flung himself at him in an overenthusiastic hug. "I missed you." Jaskier slung his legs around Geralt's hips and buried his face against his shoulder, clinging to him as if for dear life.

Geralt held him tight, deeply inhaling the familiar scent, a mix of honey, grapes, and cinnamon. He was used to this by now. He didn't mind. Truth be told, he craved it.

"Hmm," he answered, acutely aware of the stares they were attracting. Geralt decided he didn't care. "I... missed you, too."

"You did?" Jaskier pulled back and beamed at him. Just a week ago he had thought he would kill to see that smile again as soon as possible.

"Hmm," he agreed. Now he knew he knew he would die for it.

Jaskier wriggled in his grasp as a sign he wanted to be put down again. "You certainly know how to sweep a man off his feet, darling," he announced with a cheerful wink. "I don't think you've ever told me you so much as enjoyed my company before, let alone miss it."

"Hmm." Hadn't he? He could've sworn he had.

"None of that, now, let me just grab my bag and we can be on our merry way." Without another word, Jaskier rushed up the stairs in the back of the tavern.

Geralt stood uncomfortably in the door, waiting for him to return and doing his best not to attract too much attention. 'Hurry up, Jaskier,' he thought impatiently.

"Oi!" the bartender shouted. "Yer the witcher? The one of the songs?"

"I am."

The man nodded and threw something at him, humming a very distinct tune. It was a ducat. Geralt pocketed it with a sigh. He hadn't missed that.

He didn't have to wait long before Jaskier came barrelling back down the stairs, a much too large bag Roach would have to carry again in tow. "Well," the bard straightened his crumpled doublet, which, for some reason, now gaped open and showed off the pristine shirt underneath. Geralt tried not to stare, "where are we off to?"

"Toussaint," he answered, holding the tavern door open for him.

"Toussaint!" Jaskier exclaimed excitedly. "I love Toussaint."

"Hmm," Geralt said. 'I know,' Geralt thought, 'that's why we're going.'

With their reunion out of the way, it was time to proceed with the plan:

Step Two: Travel with Jaskier. Be nice to him (no fillingless pies!)! Compliment him! Laugh at his jokes!

That part was significantly more difficult than the first. Not that he lacked compliments for Jaskier, quite on the contrary. They, however, posed not one, but two difficulties.

The first was one of his own making: voicing his thoughts with actual words. In the privacy of his mind he had a myriad of compliments. 'You're beautiful,' passed through his head when he saw Jaskier bathed in the golden light of sunset. 'You smell nice,' after a day at the coast, salt encrusting Jaskier's hair. 'You make me smile', 'You make the loneliness go away', 'You're the best bard I could wish for.' None of them were quite eager to leave his mouth.

When they finally did, it was awkward. They didn't sound at all how he imagined them. "What are you looking at?" Jaskier asked.

"Something on your face," he answered. 'Yeah,' he thought dumbly, 'sunlight.'

Or: "Geralt, are you sniffing me?"

"You smell." He still cursed himself months later for omitting the simple word 'nice'.

After a while he got better at it. He could manage an "I like your voice" without stumbling over it, or a "Your outfit looks nice and smooth." It wasn't an "I love listening to you sing and say my name; you make it sound like something that is worthy of affection" or an "I love that you wear silk as soft as your skin and could spend days caressing it without growing tired of it" yet, but he was getting there.

What came then, once he was able to say a simple nice sentence to his bard, was somehow even worse. Jaskier was clumsy, that was nothing new, but this season it was on a whole different level. Whenever Geralt so much asked him about the song he was working on, the bard stumbled over his own feet; with every smile or laugh he nearly dropped his precious lute.

But nothing beat that time they happened upon a particularly clear and blue lake and Geralt had leaned over to tell Jaskier: "I like it. It reminds me of your eyes. Just as pretty." The poet had nearly plummeted right into it, which would have been very unfortunate indeed, since he hadn't convinced the nymph living in it to migrate yet.

In the end, Jaskier's utter lack of equilibrium sense led to Geralt offering him to ride on Roach. That was much better. Sometimes they rode double, too. He liked those days especially, when he had an excuse to hold his bard close. The days when Jaskier would sigh and lean back into his touch he liked most of them all.

Slowly, they settled into a familiar rhythm. It was awkward at first, but soon they became used to the change of their relationship. And it wasn't as if everything changed. They still bickered and insulted each other, and laughed and told stories. It was just right; Geralt almost didn't notice how summer came to an end.

But it did, and when the first leaves started coasting to the ground it was time for the next step.

Step Three: Ask him where he will spend the next winter.

It was probably the most mortifying thing he had to say to Jaskier yet. They were sat at a campfire one early autumn evening, Geralt trying to look busy cleaning his sword and Jaskier preoccupied with his lute. Once he finally worked up the courage to ask, he stumbled over his words like a school boy; he even blushed, for fuck's sake! It was embarrassing.

Luckily, Jaskier didn't seem to notice, too busy tuning his lute. "Why, in Oxenfurt, of course. Why do you ask, Geralt?" he answered nonchalantly as if Geralt wasn't just leading the most daunting conversation of his entire life.

'Fucking great,' he thought. Now it was time for Step Three.5: Ask Jaskier to come home with you, you fucking idiot.

"Hm," he said.

Jaskier laughed. "Talkative as always I see." He smiled at him brightly and turned back to his lute. "Alright then. Keep your secrets."

"Hmm." This wasn't getting any easier. "Jaskier."

"Yes, dear?"

His heart fluttered with the pet name, so much that Geralt nearly bit his tongue off in the process of trying to voice his question: "Would you like to stay with me?"

The lute gave a dissonant twang that made both of them wince. "Excuse me, what?" Jaskier stammered, his voice much higher than normally.

"Hmm. I just thought..." He frowned. 'Shit.' He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. This had been doomed from the beginning. "Forget it, it's stupid."

"No, no, not at all!" Jaskier scrambled to his feet and hurried over to Geralt's side. "Where would we be staying? I suppose you could come to Oxenfurt with me, but it could get a bit crammed and-"

"Kaer Morhen," Geralt stated simply.

"Kaer Mo- oh!" His eyes lit up. "Why, yes, Geralt, I would love to stay with you."

And that was the end of that. They didn't talk about it anymore the whole evening as Geralt did his damnedest to forget the conversation had ever happened. But when he laid awake in the night, Jaskier huddled close to him — it was getting rather cold, after all — he couldn't stop his mind from whirling, excitement mixing with immobilising terror. Jaskier would come to Kaer Morhen with him. They would stay together the whole winter. And Jaskier would meet his family.

With a sigh he turned over, cautiously throwing an arm over Jaskier's waist and holding him like the precious thing he was. The smile that spread on Geralt's face when his bard snuggled even closer, outshone the morning sun creeping over the horizon.

The following days and weeks, Jaskier was buzzing with the same excited energy that Geralt held within. It cost him every ounce of self-control not to turn Roach around and head for Kaer Morhen right away. But it was still early in the autumn, at least a moon's turn before it was time to go home, so they busied themselves with taking contracts and performing for sub-par audiences.

It was alright. He needed the money, after all, if he wanted to cross off Step Four: Bring Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen in its entirety, including the note: Buy him some nice and warm clothes on the way - Vesemir

It was good advice, Geralt knew, as most of Vesemir's advice was. Jaskier might have travelled with a witcher for the better part of his life, but he was still only human. And winters were very cold in the northern Kaedwen mountains.

So, on Geralt's annual stop in Ard Carraigh, he took Jaskier to get him equipped with soft woollen sweaters and stockings, as well as a pair of sturdy boots, ignoring the bard's protests of how 'ugly' they were.

"You'll thank me when you've still got all your toes after this winter," he grumbled as he strapped Jaskier's bag to Roach's saddle.

After that, nothing much exciting followed. There were still a few villages and hamlets along the way to Kaer Morhen but the least of them had so much as a tavern. The ones with a real audience of Jaskier were fewer still.

Geralt couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. Quite the opposite, he loved listening to Jaskier in the privacy of their camp or — if they were lucky — the barn where they could stay the night. He loved knowing that Jaskier sang only for him. And most of all he loved the vibrant smiles he got along the way, and the tiny ones, too, etched on his face even when he curled up against the witcher at night.

During the days, Jaskier finally had to stop riding on Roach; the path was simply getting too dangerous. The way up to Kaer Morhen had never been easy, not even when there had been two dozen witchers and twice as many students living there, but since the attack they hadn't tended to it anymore. The Witcher's Trail was no easy one for humans — and it wasn't meant to be.

Jaskier, to his credit, didn't comment much on it, most of the time too exhausted or admiring to run his mouth about the difficulty of getting to Geralt's home. He was almost a bit worried, anxious even, if Jaskier's reaction to seeing the ancient ruin would just be the same kind of silent admiration.

Evidently, there had been no need. They rounded the last corner and, finally, Kaer Morhen was looming up above them. As soon as his eyes fell on it, Jaskier gasped and ran ahead. He had, apparently, forgotten about his aching limbs he had complained about just that morning. "Is that it?" he asked excitedly. "Geralt, is this it?"

"No, it's another crumbling fortress in the Kaedwen mountains," he deadpanned.

"You're mean," Jaskier accused him and turned back around to the keep. "For months I've dreamt of this moment and what do you do? You mock me, truly a horrible habit, that- oh, gods, Geralt, it's so beautiful!"

"Hmm," he answered, watching Jaskier intently. The childish glee on his face, the snowflakes dancing around him and melting in his hair. "I guess so."

"Can we go inside?"

Another barbed comment was already on the tip of his tongue, but Geralt guessed that he shouldn't ruin the moment. Not if Jaskier was so happy. "We can. Come on."

They were still a good distance away when the gates creaked open and three bulking figures stepped outside. "You're early," he accused Eskel and Lambert once they caught up to them. They weren't supposed to be there. They were messing up Step Five: Meet the family. (Lambert Eskel Lambert Vesemir first.)

"And you're impolite," Vesemir grumbled. "I taught you better, Geralt."

"Hmm," he answered and the silence that followed might've been awkward if not for Jaskier.

Thanks to him there was no silence at all, to be precise. "You must be Vesemir; Geralt told me so much about you. Dare I say, Master Witcher, I am honoured and humbled by the invitation, and am looking forward to my stay. The name's Jaskier and I am at your service," he concluded and bowed with a flourish.

The three witchers gaped at him in surprise and Geralt couldn't help but grin. No overly detailed stories by him could've possibly prepared them for... well, Jaskier. "What," Lambert muttered quietly, "the fuck?"

"Now, that's just rude," Jaskier said as he straightened himself, "don't you think? Geralt, your brother is being rude to me."

It was all he could do not to laugh freely. Instead he shrugged and said: "Told you he's the rude one."

"Oh, you're Lambert!" The bard grinned widely and stretched out his hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

Lambert huffed in surprise and shook the offered hand. "Tell you what, bard, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended."

"Offended," Geralt mumbled just as Eskel said: "Flattered."

Jaskier smiled widely and wickedly. "Both."

Lambert opened his mouth, presumably to return a rude comment, but Jaskier's attention was diverted by Eskel, who gave him a thorough once-over and then nodded. "Welcome to Kaer Morhen, bard."

"Thank you, uh, Eskel?" he hazarded a guess.

A smile tugged on the unscarred corner of his mouth. "That's right."

"Dinner's in an hour," Vesemir cut in. "Maybe you could show our guest to his room, Geralt?"

Right. With the meeting out of the way it was time for Step Six: Show him to his room (Make sure it has some nice fur rugs - Vesemir) (Shag him on the rug - Lambert) (Offer to stay with him if he's cold - Eskel). Both of those additions seemed equally daunting to him.

But before he could even think of an excuse as to why he couldn't do that right now, Roach's reins were ripped from his hands and they were being pushed towards the keep.

"Well, they're certainly eager to get rid of you, considering they haven't seen you for a year," Jaskier quipped once they were inside the keep proper.

"That's not- hmm." 'Fuck.' He had almost betrayed himself. "They'll be different after dinner," he promised. "Besides, you know they can hear you."

"So?" He huffed a laugh. "I know they're just like you; all bark and no bite."

He was about to deny that claim but Lambert's offended howl that reached him from the courtyard quickly changed his mind. That definitely was worth the jab at his own ego. "Come on," he urged, smiling, "no need to continue playing the jester for them any further."

"Why, is there any issue with providing entertainment for a living?" Jaskier teased.

"Only if it's at the expense of me."

He sighed dramatically. "That I know, my dear. That I know."

"Jaskier?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to give you a tour of the keep."

"You are? Oh, I wouldn't have noticed." Geralt shot him a dirty look. Jaskier snickered maliciously, the bastard. "Oh, yeah, yep. Shutting up. Go ahead, Sir Witcher, show me your magnificent home."

From anyone else it might've been mockery. It might've been mockery from Jaskier, too, if not for the sound of absolute awe in his voice as he took in their surroundings.

Geralt could hardly blame him. It might've been a long time since he had arrived at Kaer Morhen, but he still remembered how dumbstruck he had been at the sheer immensity of the place that should become since home.

It had lost its mysticism since then, but seeing Jaskier's childlike wonder as he led him through the kitchens and great hall made him remember. He showed him the library, too, as well as the stairs down to the hot springs that he must never, ever confuse with those that led to the laboratories.

He closed with the rooms the various witchers claimed as their own: "That's Lambert's room down the hall, don't go there, he's a prick; Vesemir is a few floors below us, claims he's too old for our squabbles; that's mine, and that one's Eskel's, ask him if you need something and I'm not there, not Lambert, he's an arsehole-"

"Geralt," Jaskier said soothingly and put a hand on his arm, "you're rambling."

"Am I?" he asked confused. "Don't think so."

"There's no need to be nervous, dear. I won't abandon you; you're stuck with me for the winter."

"I'm not nervous," Geralt insisted, his fingers twitching nervously.

"Right," Jaskier took his hand away, evidently not very convinced. "I'm sorry for interrupting you, then."

"Don't be," he mumbled, not quite able to tear his gaze from Jaskier's gentle smile.

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"Do I-" He started fidgeting with his lute strap. "Do I have a room, too? I mean, not that I mind sharing with you, that's not the issue at all- gods, I sound stupid-"

His eyes still trained on Jaskier, he reached behind him and opened the door. "There."

"That's my room?" he asked without turning around to look inside.

"That's yours," Geralt confirmed. He had prepared it last winter already. Just in case.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, the poet whirled around and rushed into the sparsely furnished room. He looked very much... out of place. The realisation hit him like a slap in the face; but apparently the visual of Jaskier and his bright purple doublet in the grey empty walls of Kaer Morhen was what it took for him to realise how little they were reconcilable.

For the first time in his life he felt self-conscious for his home. "'S not much," Geralt mumbled.

"It's wonderful." Jaskier beamed, carefully inspecting the bed and the rug, peering out the window and into the chest. "Might get a bit cold, though."

He grumbled something he knew to be unintelligible to humans into his beard.

"What was that, love?"

"You could always stay with me," he spoke up. "Y'know. We've shared before."

"That we have! You might find that before long you will be forced to let me take you up on your generous offer."

"Hmm," Geralt answered and left him to it, in order to complete Step Six.5: No, let him arrive first, you idiot! There would be no 'being forced' of any kind, but he wasn't quite ready to admit that to Jaskier, yet.

Despite their apparent incompatibility Jaskier settled into the routine of Kaer Morhen disturbingly quickly. Though 'settle into' wasn't quite the right choice of words. More like 'tear it down and build it anew, but with lyrics, laughter, and luminosity'.

The evening of their arrival was truly mortifying, the worst mix of embarrassing stories of Geralt's childhood and very inappropriate questions directed at Jaskier. Geralt had spent the whole dinner frozen in shock and awe at the masterful display of the bard's craftsmanship.

After an hour of vicious cross-examination, the three witchers had finally backed off. And as Vesemir had retreated to his rooms, Lambert had brought up the alcohol. It hall had spiralled out of Geralt's control after that.

Within the hour Lambert and Jaskier were japing and jabbing at each other as if they were lifelong friends and not acquaintances since a few hours. It took his bard three days to have Vesemir completely wrapped around his finger, intently listening to his droning lectures about basically everything. And not even a fortnight into their stay, he found Jaskier and Eskel in the library, talking with hushed voices. He quickly retreated but not before he heard Jaskier telling his brother how beautiful he was, scars or no scars, and Eskel sniveled quietly.

A month since their arrival saw them trapped into the castle by the heavy snowfalls. Unfortunately, that didn't stop Vesemir from drilling them mercilessly.

They were an hour into their morning routine when they all perked at the sound of soft footsteps passing through the hall. "Jaskier," Geralt said softly.

The bard was bundled up in several quilts, his face barely visible beneath the mess of his hair and the blankets. Still his face lit up with the brightest smile when he saw them. "Mornin', lads," he croaked, "lookin' good, keep it up." He gave them a tired thumbs-up and shuffled off to the kitchen, where Vesemir would provide him with a hot breakfast with a side of 'most-boring-information-on-this-earth'. It was their own morning routine of sorts, and the three of them knew it wouldn't be long before they were discussing the 'merits of the iambic pentameter in 10th century love poetry' or some shit.

"Fuck," Lambert cursed once they knew Jaskier to be out of earshot, "I really can't blame you, Geralt. Too much time with him and I start gawking like a love-sick idiot, too."

"Hmm," Geralt agreed. Jaskier definitely had that effect.

"Jealous, wolf?" Eskel inquired with a knowing smile.

"No," he answered earnestly. If anything, he loved Jaskier more for it. His family wasn't easy to deal with, he knew. But his bard didn't care. He had so much affection to give, even for witchers. 'Especially for witchers.' He closed his eyes with a happy smile.

"Y'know, there's still a couple of steps left on our list," Eskel informed him casually.

Geralt's eyes snapped open as his heart sped up. 'Fuck.' The plan. "Hmm."

"Just fucking get it over with," Lambert yearned. "Your pining isn't any less obnoxious just because he's here."

"If anything, it's gotten worse," Eskel agreed.

"So?" he snapped. He had put it off, that was true. Had waited for the snow, he told himself, but now the snow was here and-

"So, we'll distract him this afternoon," Eskel interrupted his spiralling thoughts.

"And you pull your head outta your arse and fucking follow through," Lambert added.

"Fine," he ground out. "We do that." Not before he kicked both their arses during their training, though, for being such utter dicks.

Before long, however, the inevitable happened. Morning passed over to noon, and, true to their words, Lambert and Eskel whisked Jaskier away after lunch. They left Geralt behind in the hall with a branch in his hands and nothing left to do but complete Step Seven: Hang up a mistletoe.

"Fuck," he muttered. Nearly one year had passed since they had come up with their conspiracy. One year to gather his courage, one year to come up with a plan, one year to at least think about where to fucking put it. "Fuck," he said again, for good measure.

He looked around. Looked to the rafters. Looked at the mistletoe. "Fuck it," he declared and tucked it away to scale up to the rafters.

He was already up there, dangling from one of the beams when he remembered that he had nothing to secure it with besides the silky ribbon that would never fit around it. He scowled darkly. He sure as hell wouldn't climb down and up again. Without further ado he pulled his dagger from his belt and drove it deep into the wood, pinning the mistletoe by the ribbon.

He climbed down again, making sure that it was visible from the ground. 'Perfect,' he decreed. With the mistletoe in place, it was now time for Step Eight: Have Lambert and Eskel inform Jaskier of the mistletoe and a strategically placed Geralt.

He spun around to go and alert his brothers, when he heard a cheerful voice behind him: "Geralt! There you are, you mean witcher, I was wondering where you were hiding. You know, it is not nice to leave your, uh- bedmate all alone and freezing in the morning, and- oh." There was a thoughtful pause. "Now would you look at that."

Geralt heaved a long sigh. He dreaded turning around, for he had a very distinct feeling he knew already what he would see. And fuck, he was not ready for that step. For some stupid reason, he still did turned around.

Jaskier stood in the middle of the hall, squinting up at the ceiling. "Are my eyes deceiving me — and they might be, mind you, my eyes are not as good as a witcher's — or is that a mistletoe I spy up there."

He cursed internally. He knew he should've hung it lower. "Hmm," he answered, his heart beating in his throat. Why was his heart beating in his throat? It wasn't supposed to do that. His voice was surprisingly calm when he said: "Seems like it."

"Oh no!" he moaned woefully. "Quick, Geralt, come here and lift the curse!"

"Curse?" he inquired bemusedly as his feet moved without his volition. "What curse, Jaskier?"

The bard gasped. "Don't you know? When someone passes beneath a mistletoe, they are frozen to the spot until the curse is broken."

"Hmm," he stepped under the mistletoe, too. He should've known Jaskier would make up a story around this. It was just a tradition, for fuck's sake, no curse. Although a curse was certainly more romantic, even he had to admit that. "Must be a rare curse if a witcher's never heard of it."

"The rarest," Jaskier insisted and pointed at his cheek. "It may only be broken with a true love's kiss."

In light of what happened next, let it be known that, in Geralt's defence, he was panicking. Quite thoroughly so. Since the Trials his legs hadn't shaken like that anymore.

He had been promised a pep talk by his brothers before having to confront the situation at hand. And yet they were nowhere to be found and Jaskier was here, evidently expecting him to kiss him.

'Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck.' He was not ready; he was not ready; he was not-

"Geralt?" Jaskier ripped him from his thoughts. "Are you waiting till my nose grows icicles, or what?"

Still, he leaned forward, placing one hand on Jaskier's hip and the other on his shoulder, and pecked him on the cheek.

The cheek. That had not been the plan. That had not been the plan at all. And then, of all things, he heard himself ask: "Can you move again?"

Jaskier blinked, looking just as dumbstruck as Geralt felt. "I- I think so?" he stammered and moved to pull away, blushing furiously.

'Fuck, no,' he remembered thinking. And while he wasn't quite in control of his limbs again, what he did next was probably the single most clever thing he had done in his entire life. Gingerly almost, he tightened his grip on Jaskier. His head tilted to the side, an invitation, an escape.

His bard didn't move. Instead, he said: "Doesn't seem like it."

"Hmm," Geralt answered and leaned in closer. "Difficult curse, seems like. Let me try again."

Before he could even think of changing his mind, Jaskier had his arms looped around Geralt's neck and crushed their lips together. He did his best to reciprocate the kiss, which wasn't easy with fear still gripping his heart tightly, but then Jaskier crowded closer, moulding his body against Geralt's and that was all it took for the tension to seep from his bones and go limb.

It was a weird sensation; being wrapped in Jaskier's arms was so familiar, but he was also kissing Jaskier, which was new- 'Great gods, I am kissing Jaskier, I am kissing Jaskier, I am-'

He pulled back with a triumphant grin, evidently startling his bard. "What?" he asked, very confused.

"I am kissing you," he announced, his grin widening even more.

Jaskier frowned. "That you are, but-"

"I am kissing you," he said again and pecked him on the lips. "And I can keep doing it."

"Oh!" The frown eased away, giving way to the softest of smiles. "That you can, my dear."

So, Geralt did. Again. And again. And again, and again, and again. He didn't know how many times he had kissed Jaskier, how many times Jaskier had kissed him, before he pulled back and blurted: "I love you."

Jaskier stared at him in silent awe, before blushing and cupping his cheeks gently. "That you do, my love," he whispered. "And I love you, too." Softly, he pressed their lips together again.

"You do?" Geralt asked disbelievingly.

Jaskier smirked. "I do. For years and years, I have. I thought you knew."

"Fuck," he muttered. Did that mean... 'I didn't have to do any of this.' He could've just- "I'm an idiot."

"Only sometimes," he allowed, giggling sillily. Geralt was compelled to join in. "Besides, you’re my idiot, and I love you for it." He shifted a little, so he could lean his head comfortably onto Geralt's shoulder despite them being nearly the same height.

"So," Jaskier drawled, curling a strand of Geralt's hair around his finger, "are we just going to keep standing here, or...?"

He scoffed. Of course, they wouldn't. He had a plan, after all. "Fuck." The plan.

Jaskier raised his head. "Is that a curse or an answer?"

"Yes," he answered warily.

It earned him the most beautiful snorting laugh he had ever heard. "What are you cursing at, love?"

"We skipped Step Eight," he admitted, "got right to Step Nine."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Step Nine: Kiss Jaskier." The poet just gawked at him. "I had a list," he explained.

"You had?" Jaskier's eyes lit up and he made grabby hands. "Show me, show me!"

Reluctantly, Geralt handed it over, studying Jaskier's face carefully as he read through it.

"I knew it," Jaskier concluded finally.

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on!" He threw up his hands. "You were acting weird all year round, Geralt! Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but still, weird. It took me about ten minutes to figure out there was some ploy at play." He laughed quietly and waved the paper around. "Though I never would've guessed what was amiss."

"You don't like it."

"On the contrary! It's a wonderful plan," the poet said and pecked him on the lips. "I've got to admit, though, Lambert was right: you should've just fucked me on that rug once we got here."

"Hmmm." Geralt nuzzled against Jaskier's neck, holding him closer when he tried to squirm away from the tickling sensation. "That still an option?"

"Very much so. I believe it has to be one more step before completing your list." He pulled him close and whispered against his lips: "Take me to bed, my love"

And how could Geralt refuse such a request? Especially if it coincided so luckily with Step Ten.

#my writing #the witcher #geraskier #elliestormfound #look i've got an ask #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #eskel #Lambert #vesemir #kaer morhen #kaer morons

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lespritdekin · 3 years ago

Text

gone with the wind.

heeseung wasn't the creator of the universe, but he was your entire world, and you were willing to turn a blind eye to his disloyalty if it meant that he'd stay with you.

pairingㅡ heeseung x fem!reader (ft. jay).

genreㅡ angst, fluff.

warningsㅡ heeseung is an asshole, and a fuckboy.

word countㅡ 2.6k

disclaimerㅡ I am not knowledgeable within the business world, and i certainly am not a witness of how employers promote their employees.

The shadows that followed your form like a Pied Piper produced a wary rhythm that scattered across every corridor of your veins, the nightly breeze that stung your face held your heart in its grasp, squeezing, extracting your sense of pugnacity, forcing you on your knees, calling, whispering in your ears,

Why do you desire what you cannot acquire?

Why do you long for someone's touch? Someone that only desires himself?

It wasn't your first encounter with Ethan's straying eyes. Beautiful orbs as dark as ebony, gaze as sharp as tungsten, behind the curtains that dangle from his sinful truth, there lies a hunger that can never reach satisfaction, yearning for the taste of one more kiss for the night, one more body to hold in his sheets.

The number of opportunities the world gave you in order to keep your head straight, keep your chin held high, mind persistent on your own necessities, like your career that recently had been at the top of the pedestal, your home that had become a penthouse suite a week ago because of your intelligent hardwork.

At the back of your mind, you chose to discard these thoughts. Everyday, you could achieve another line of recognition in your work, the field you were most passionate about. The royal blue mermaid gown didn't entice Ethan enough to form a song with solely the thought of you. No lingering lips from another woman, no repeated amounts of second chances, just you and your sweet melodies. None of that occured.

That apex of the night, you shone brighter than the stars, glowed stronger than the moon.

You were dazzling.

Your skin could rival the smoothest gold, the details of your dress twinkling under the large chandeliers that hung atop your silky, beautiful hair. The Sapphire jewelry set you had just bought with full paper the day before brought out the alluring beauty of your eyes, the most tantalizing part of you, according to Ethan.

But, not even your most desirable features could bring the source of your pain on his knees. The dysphoria that etched itself onto your face magnetized his eyes for a split second.

Was it that difficult to properly look you in the eye?

You were beautiful, of course. Albeit, the most beautiful goddess that Ethan ever held. The confidence that ambushed your throat vanished as Ethan's arm snuck around the woman's waist, his lips that was once kissing your ear last night were now on the woman stuck to his form, well aware of your eyes on him, well aware of the hurt that formed in your chest, well aware that the tears you have been holding back the entire event would come crashing down any minute soon.

"I love you, [Name]." He used to say after spending the night in your bed. You were too naive to care, too timid to dig deeper into the honesty of his words. To you, he was flawed, but never in your favor. He was the ice cream that encircled around your tongue whenever you felt conflicted, the peaceful serenity that embraced your ears when your world was close to collapsing. That was your biggest mistake.

Ethan was a jerk. A bastard that continued to disregard your feelings, a monster that claws at your emotions until you fall into an abyss of darkness, shrouding over you until you suffocate.

You closed the door to your penthouse, your tall shoes thumping across the polished marble floor, tears now cascading down your pretty pink cheeks. Maybe, just maybe, Jake was right. You were a fool for wanting Ethan. You were a fool for allowing another fool to brush you off his shoulder. He was a puzzle you were never meant to fix, a maze you were never destined to enter. You were now nearing the end, your tiny feet scrambling to leave this labyrinth you've been caging yourself in.

Ethan wasn't the only man on Earth.

And, you bet he wasn't the only man you'll ever love.

"How was the ball, cupcake?" The man within your pallet had asked, voice deep and raspy, but still curious and soulful. He was rubbing his eyes, ripped muscles and evident veins littering his skin, eyebrows scrunched up as he forces himself awake. You wiped your tears away, taking your heels off as you allowed the coat to slip past your shoulders.

You sat in front of your looking glass, gentle fingertips removing your earrings. Two large, calloused hands slipped around your shoulders, kissing the exposed skin before disassembling the lock in your necklace.

"It was, hmm, how do I say this... Quite eventful?" You chuckled softly, fingers coming up to rub the hand resting on your shoulder. He bent down to kiss your cheeks, mumbling about how courageous and strong you were for facing the most afflictive quandary in your life. All alone, you've watched Ethan kiss another girl, make love to another girl, all alone in your little daydream of pursuing yourself that Ethan was a man that has been damaged, a man that needed another person's warmth.

Fully aware that you were deteriorating slowly, fully aware that you chose to ignore it, so long as Ethan still came home to you.

"Thank you, Jongseong." You sighed, the kisses that were scattered on your neck lulling you into sleep.

"Princess, don't sleep on me. We still need to take your makeup off, and take a bath." He warned you gently, applying micellar water on your face with a cotton pad. You smiled, your heart swelling from the undivided attention, something Ethan couldn't give you. After he had finished wiping off the last bit of your lipstick, he pulled you up and unzipped your dress, allowing you to step out of it. He gawked at you, eyes ogling up and down your figure.

You were marvelous.

The faint dimples on the small of your back, the little lovehandles you had, the cellulite that cluttered on your thighs, the little stretchmarks that had formed on the sides of your tummy. They were all so gorgeous, so, so breathtaking in the eyes of the man before you, eyes twinkling with unrealistic amounts of love. "All for me?" He asked cheekily, causing you to slap his chest lightly. You sweet laugh grazed his earlobes, kissing him, shrouding him.

"You're so beautiful. I hope you know that." He spoke, hands rubbing up and down your arms. You looked up and smiled at him, your cheeks heating up from the confession. "I know, you remind me everyday."

The morning came and greeted the both of you like a happy little kid, it reminded you of Sunoo. Bright, innocent, and hard-working. He was the sweetest little angel, so pure that you were almost fooled he was your long lost little brother. "Good morning, beautiful." A groggy, raspy, deep voice resounded from behind you, muscular arms wrapping tighter around your chest, nose shoved at the nape of your neck, inhaling your sweet, mature scent.

"Good morning to you, too, handsome." He sighed exasperatedly, nuzzling the tip of his nose into your scalp. "I adore the aroma of your shampoo."

You pushed his shoulder away, opting to turn around and face him. You gave his nose a kiss, your thumb rubbing smooth lines across his cheekbone. "Let's get up, big boy, work starts in an hour and a half."

After finishing your breakfast, which was done by the both of you (of course, your pancakes were with maple syrup and his with an entire jar of honeyㅡ) got dressed, but not after a quick occurrence of love making in the bathroom. For the first time in your entire being, someone brought you to work. Jongseong himself let himself in despite the rivalry between your companies, greeting the workers and staff as they pass by.

He brought you to your office, kissing you tenderly before leaving shortly, engaging in a little warfare of who could declare their love the deepest.

Of course, your competitive boyfriend won.

You could still feel the delicious warmth of his lips on your as he says "I love you more than Heroes of Storm." You could still feel his hands on your waist as he sits you down your desk, his tongue prying.

Lost in your little daydream, your secretary knocked on the door, informing you that the Chief Executive Officer longed for your presence in the conference and room. You arrived shortly, all eyes on your gorgeous figure and miniscule, flawless face as your PA closed the door in your tow. Expectedly, the man of your nightmares was equally as daunting in the presence of the room, the gentle humming of the air-conditioner reminding you that you were in a place of professionalism, not your personal escapade.

You sat in the only seat available, parallel to the CEO, right next to the left of Ethan. Your PA stood behind you, fiddling with the folders and papers in her hand. You tugged at the ends of your maroon blazer, your skirt the same color. Your pencil skirt and tall heels were black, pearl earrings a bright contrast to the black onyx of your designer shoes. Your cheeks were pink, lips adorning the same color, eyes sparkling with casual confidence, causing Ethan's eyebrows to furrow.

Weren't you just on the brim of crying your eyes out yesterday?

Why the fuck were you glowing?

"Good morning, ladies. Good morning, gentlemen." A series of polite responses welcomed the ears of the chairman, standing up with his hands clasped together. "The following six months were quite the effort, weren't they? The panel and I have discussed the possibility of a President, soon to replace the retiring Mrs. Min."

Murmurs of who they wanted to lead them hollered around the crisp air of the alcove. Your name came in the picture of gossiping workers, but the smile on your face soon turned sour after hearing Ethan's name in the air. Your smile could have faltered if it weren't for your newfound strength to face challenges head on, to face the fresh antagonism between you and Ethan.

A sly smirk graced Ethan's unbelievably handsome face. You've missed the cheeky quirk of his eyebrow, the serrated glint in his eyes, the burning touch of his fingertips, and his gorgeous face. You've craved for them more than anything in the world these past few days, but not even Ethan's remorseless persistence could govern Jay's latency in your life. Ethan was a pest, Jay was a miracle that was given to you.

The exemplification was enough.

The Jay Park, the CEO and President of Park Enterprises was the one that held your heart.

Not even your past with Ethan could compare to that.

"We have come to a conclusion. It was quite the handful to decide, but our verdict was unanimous." The chairman concluded, causing everyone's blood to stiffen, curious, biting, curiously waiting, demanding for the designated name to be called in their seats, eyes boring into the man in front of them. "We have decided, that, from this day on, Ms. [Name] Yang will be your latest luminary."

The crowd squealed in delight, inappropriate within the occasion, but appreciated, nevertheless. You stood up to bow to the chairman, your new position in the company greatly satisfying, justifying your hardwork. The image of vengeance never crossed your mind, but with Ethan, dumbfounded and in disbelief of your success, being here, on the time of your prosperity, was breathtaking, to say the least.

The gentle monikers you've given him proved worthless as you bowed in front of him, the red that clouded his vision powerful enough to physically manhandle you, force you into submission, force you below him. His hands itched to paint your skin red, stain your mind with him and his rough palms, make you feel the anger and dissatisfaction you've caused him. His head was in a swirl, the radiance of your skin and your smile pushing him off a cliff, your elegance draping him with your beauty.

But, why?

Why was he feeling this way? You were just another whore that fell in his mousetrap.

Why were you suddenly the only prize he wanted to win?

As soon as you informed Jongseong through the phone at lunch time, he swore he could make love to you then and there. He was more than gleeful for you and the steadfast dedication you had in your field. All the nights you spent at the office in your home, all the coffee lattes that you would open the door to, all the fast-food meals you would consume just to finish your line of work finally paid off. To celebrate, Jay booked a dinner reservation in one of the 7-star hotels him and his father owned.

That night, Ethan's very own eyes discovered Jay Park's form, leaning against his black Mercedes, seemingly waiting for someone. His speculation that it was you soon pummeled him in the face as your little arms wrapped around Park Ent's CEO, shoving your tongue down his throat out in the open. The moment you entered Jongseong's car, he slammed his beer glass on his desk and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt past his elbows, the veins and muscles that flourish his arms more enticing under the moonlight.

Ethan's plan was meant to be successful. You were his opponent. Opponents of that of Lee Heeseung deserved to be humiliated, emotionally distraught. His loving past with his object of rivalry is all but impractical. The voice that called him in that dark night, your voice that felt like an early summer sunshine was valueless. The love that you so willingly gave dripped down his face. He licensed them to fall. Everything you shared with him, all of them were mere acts of kindness.

So, why were the veins in his temples protruding from under his skin?

Why did his eyes burn when your lips kissed Jay's?

Why did something in his guts wreathe when he reminded himself that you weren't his anymore?

Why were you such a bitch in the first place?

Of all the queries, the interrogations, the questions, and all the answers, responses, replies, all of the truth Ethan indulged in, it was always you that burglarized his mind. The most horrifying part was, he was in pain. His hands itched to be on yours, entangle your fingertips, kiss your palms, he wanted your lips on his fingertips, like you used to do when he was in distress.

He felt like he was granted to finally grasp the moonlight in his arms, cradle it until his retinas burn with luminescence, listen to your soft, breathy voice, telling him, urging him, singing him lullabies, moaning for him, whining, whimpering, shuddering, trembling for him.

Classical music devoured his sour ambience, the bitter taste of your dispossession of him made Ethan's chest tighten, lungs burning, limbs numbing. His mind was in a whirlpool of your graceful exorcism, your deportation like a gun against his head. His palms met the glass wall where he witnessed your happy smiles and soft giggles, the ones you used to make whenever you were with him.

The classical music that you used to listen to kissed his ears, and for once in his life, he cried and longed for someone. He would soar through the stormy clouds if it meant to have one more minute with you in an apocalypse of pandemonium.

That was Ethan's mistake. The long yesterday was the last time he could ever feel your skin on his. Your kisses would be nothing but a dream, your words nothing but a song he used to sing, your laugh nothing but a faint melody, your love nothing but whispers in the air.

Ethan was the one who left, but he wasn't the one who disappeared. He was left high and dry.

And you?

You were simply gone with the wind.

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #heeseung angst #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #jay fluff #jay angst #jay imagines #jay scenarios

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dancingwiththeplanets · 4 years ago

Text

Relief

Paz Vizsla x fem!reader

masterlist

Summary: “I know that we’re strangers but something really awful has happened to me and I need you.”

A/N: highly recommend listening to “everything i wanted” by billie eilish before reading because that is just the vibe.

Warnings: angst, ruminating, lots of dialogue, mourning the death of a parent, deals with depression and anxiety, soft!paz, a big brute with an even bigger heart

Word Count: 11k (oops)

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

“Death changes people, it brings some people together, pushes other people apart...” You remember your buir’s words as if they were spoken to you just yesterday. They were the words he said on the day of your mothers funeral. “...but you and I, we do not let such things hurt us. We are stronger together, my ad’ika, we can only get through this together. Yes?”

“Okay, buir.” You said. Your wide, 5 year old eyes not fully comprehending the situation.

He nodded, pained, and whispered, “That’s a good girl,” before leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead and departing to the ceremony, your small form in tow.

He was right, death did change people. You remember seeing him in pure agony, as much as he tried to hide it from you. Your aunts and uncles would always be over, consoling him, distracting you, oftentimes just having you stay with them so your father could grieve away from your eyes.

But he never let it hurt your relationship. No, he was the best buir anyone could dream of. Your buir.

He was a proud man, respected and admired by all the warriors in the covert. Fierce, honorable, diligent and selfless. He would and did do anything for anyone. And the tribe respected him immensely. They even elected for him to be the Alor on more than one occasion, and he practically was. But he refused the title again and again, preferring to do all the work without carrying any official status. Even so, he certainly inherited the same amount of respect that the actual Alor had.

“All of the privilege and none of the responsibility.” He would tease, winking at you as the two of you would sneak out of the kitchens or any other ‘off-limits’ part of the covert, everyone turning a blind eye to your buir and ad’ika antics. Mainly just because they respected him too much to chastise you.

Truly though, he was a very respectable man. He trained the little ones, led hunts and security protocols for the covert, found lost Mandalorians and brought them home to the tribe. He dedicated his life to building the strongest and most operational covert that Mandalorians had seen in years. And he did it all for you. All so that you would have a safe place to grow up, so that you would lose as few brothers and sisters, and as few aunts and uncles as possible. So that you wouldn’t lose anyone just as suddenly as you’d lost your mother.

But he never prepared you for the day you would lose him.

The two of you were unimaginably close, so close that now you regretted ever developing a relationship that strong with him even if he was your father, because look at what it got you.

How were you supposed to go on? What was your life without your buir? What was this covert without your buir?

You look around the room, dozens and dozens of armored warriors here to pay their respects to your father, his body already having been buried. The tears leak out of your eyes without reserve as you hold tightly to your friend's hand, scanning the room for the comfort of your boyfriend. “He’ll be here soon” She whispers, though you sense doubt in her voice, “I’m sure of it.”

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

You’re not sure what time it is, only that you’ve spent yet another restless night collecting tears in your pillow. Your booted feet pad down the deserted hallway of the covert. It’s aboveground, hidden beneath the treelines of a dense forest on a nearly desolate planet. It’s beautiful, unlike most every other secret covert that exists, though very few do. It has bulletproof glass paneling all around to allow for light to peek in through the trees. It’s warm and inviting instead of cold and gloomy.

“We need a home. Not a prison.” Buir had said.

You wince, face contorting in pain at the memory of him sharing the design with you. He had a dream. He wanted to live the way he used to, on Mandalore. Embracing nature and training warriors in the traditional way. He wanted your small tribe to grow into the hundreds. And that it did, well, to just over a hundred at least.

The most recent tribe came in from Nevarro, about seven months ago. He’d managed to track them down and get into contact with their Alor. Though some members of their tribe were reluctant to merge- they always are- they soon decided to join forces with your own, strengthening your numbers. Plus, they got to move to a much more beautiful, safe, and spacious planet.

Regrettably, you hadn’t gotten to know many members of the new tribe still. They were...different. Still pleasant from the interactions you’d had with them at least, good sense of humor and all, but they were devoted to the old ways of Mandalore, conservative, reserved, passionate. Most unusually they didn’t arrive with any women in their tribe, aside from their Alor. For some reason odd, universal reason, Mandalorian women were hard to come by. It was a troubling issue that distressed many people in the tribe, in any tribe. It felt like a curse on your people. But this tribe literally had only one. They obviously cherished and admired her immensely, they made her their Alor.

Also, their creed didn’t allow for them to remove their helmets, a drastic difference from the one you had sworn that didn’t even require you wear your armor all the time, though you and most everyone almost always did. You were still Mandalorian; Training, honor, armor...they were still as big a part of you as your soul was to your body. But everyone around here knew your face, and vice versa, even if you did spend most of your life behind the shield.

This week however, you couldn't bring yourself to put it on once. Hell, you didn’t even bother with your flight suit. You just stayed locked up in your tiny room all day and night, only leaving when you were forced out by your friends. “It’s for your own good,” they would say. You suppose they were right, but no matter how good of friends they were to you right now, their company seemed to make it all worse.

A part of you wanted Collin, your boyfriend of two years, but he seemed to disappear from sight every time you caught his eye, an action that made your friend, Brie, chase after him in a rage the last time. He had been so blatantly obvious. You were in tears, yet again, mourning your father, yet again, when you caught the flash of his grey armor slip past your crying form in the common room. The hurt you had felt was unimaginable. The betrayal. You know that your relationship was strained as of late, but this, the death of your father, how could he not be around for you? Even if just as a friend?

So here you were. Another sleepless night, another late hour gone by without the noisy comfort of the of the tribe at work. Your head was pounding from the tears, the dehydration and the pain. The kriffing pain.

This time you couldn’t do it. You couldn't stay trapped within the dark walls of your room any longer, quickly pulling on something decent to wear in the late night or early hours of the morning- you didn’t know what time it was- before mindlessly wandering the covert.

Empty. It must be smack in the middle of the night. Well, at least you could sulk freely, allow the tears to escape without worrying about what a blubbering mess you must look like. A part of you was thankful, this was...kind of nice? There was nobody hovering around you. No visors following your every move in pity or concern, waiting to catch you when you break. You did pass one or two guards patrolling the halls, but you avoided them as best you could, hoping to avoid being questioned.

You finally take a moment to sit, hiding yourself beside some phony shrub in the corner. You’ve wandered to the dining hall. You look around, hoping to distract yourself with the silent chatter of the five or so warriors lounging around, probably on break from late night duties. Your eyes finally resting on a group of three of your vods sitting around, talking. They’re from the new tribe, well, most recently new.

You don’t know any of them particularly well, least of all the heavy infantry warrier whose figure commands your attention. He spends most of his time with the higher ups or teaching the foundlings, and you fall somewhere there in the middle. But he’s broad and robust and by maker if he doesn't captivate your attention.

You listen to the quiet echoes bouncing around the spacious dining hall. There’s hardly anybody here, it must be so early. You groan, to you it just feels unbearably late.

You don’t know how long you sit here, hidden behind the leaves of the plant, hazy eyes focused on the blue warrior. You just sit, staring, he’s...peaceful to observe. His arms are crossed over his chest, leaned back comfortably against his chair. He huffs at something one of his brothers says, you can barely hear it, but you see the shake of his shoulders before he adjusts his posture and a small smile pulls at your own lips for some reason.

You shake your head. Is this wrong? You think, averting your eyes away from Paz’s form. You feel guilty for some reason, you mind reminding you of Collin. The guilt impacts you painfully for a moment, adding to the feelings of loss and exhaustion before you shake the thoughts away.

No. You think, eyes squeezing shut at the new wave of emotion hurting your already distraught mind. I’m just people watching. Not admiring. This is allowed. This actually feels...kind of nice, it’s allowed.

You permit your gaze to return to Paz and his friends, watching them nod at another couple of Mandos who pass by.

There was something so...comforting about Paz. You don't even know how you can think that? You don’t know him.

You watch his attention shift to his boots which are sprawled out in front of him, heels resting on the hard floor. He kicks his feet out a little bit, watching them wiggle from their movements. His action again tugging the teeniest of smiles to your lips.

You feel a small and brief glimmer of warmth in your chest, though quickly replaced by a pain that pinches from your gut to the back of your throat. Tears gloss over your vision before you’re able to fight them away with slow, deep breaths. It feels as though your body is chastising you for daring to feel a degree of happiness so suddenly.

No. You cower away from the invisible being hurting you, eyes squinting shut again.

You yearn for the slight relief and warmth to return. You need it. It just...feels so damn hard to breathe like this.

The anxiety, the fear, the distress. It just won’t leave you alone.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing until you’re already out in the open. You’d abruptly stood from your hiding spot and started walking toward the source of relief, before nearly choking on air realizing what you were doing.

Holy shit, you gasp, It’s too late to stop walking. You’re already out in the open, and you’ve made it well into their field of vision. If you stop, they’ll notice you.

Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff.

The anxiety is burning in your chest again. Your steps falter before you stop, you’re not even sure what you’re doing anymore.

What you do know is that now you’ve caught the attention of the Mando sitting next to Paz, whose visor now watches your frozen form in the middle of the hall. Your heart beating loudly in your chest as you stand there motionless, eyes wide and breathing faltering at having been detected.

You must look absolutely deranged.

But of course, it had to get worse. Noticing the stillness of their friend, the other two shift their attention to see what’s silenced him.

Three visors. There are now three visors on you. Staring down your shaky, frozen form.

You can’t walk this off, you can’t play it cool. They’re already looking at you, you’ve stood still here now watching them for now who knows how long.

What do you do?

Kriff.

You recoil slightly, crossing your now shaking hands in front of you, hoping they wouldn’t notice your trembling palms.

What the hell is wrong with you? Relax. You’re a Mandalorian, just think.

What is the least horrible way out of this?

Carry it out. Whatever it was that you were doing, whatever mission your subconscious had led you on, just execute it.

You breathe in a shuddery breath, placing one foot out in their direction and hesitating before allowing the other to follow its movements.

Geez, walk much?

It’s so quiet in the empty hall, only 5 or 6 other Mandos out on the other end, so each tap of your feet is as audible as that of a bantha on crackling ice as you make your way to them.

“Okay, vod’ika?” One of them asks kindly. You recognize the maroon helmet from up close. Ramsey?

Ramsey, you think.

You nod slightly, suddenly remembering how out of it you must look. Eyes puffy and red, lips swollen, hair in disarray. You feel even more anxious to desert the mission than before, resigning to just get it over with and face the object of your desire.

“Paz,” you say, internally groaning at how pathetic and fatigued your voice sounds. “May I please speak with you for a moment?”

Kriff, what’s the plan now, di’kut?

The question directed at him takes him aback, but his posture instantly straightens. “Of course,” He says, rising from his seat.

You blink back a little as he stands to his full height. Have you ever been this close to him? Surely not, you would remember the feeling of being towered over like this. Paz hesitates, waiting for your instruction. Osik, were you just brazenly sizing him up right there? Great, and now he must think you’re intimidated by him.

Abort, abort, abort.

He tilts his helmet at you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You move for him to follow, which he does. You try to move as far away from the others as possible without being terribly obvious in hopes that they won’t overhear your conversation.

“Is.. everything alright?” He asks once you’ve guided him a safe distance away.

“Yes.” You say instantly, eyes locked on your hands. “I-I mean, n-no.”

This is weird.

What have you done?

You force your gaze up to meet his, noticing his visor tilt in concern. He no doubt already knows what’s troubling you. Everybody in the covert knows about your father’s passing, there was a ceremony for kriffs sake. Paz was probably there.

Your lip trembles suddenly, embarrassed, and instantly you’re cursing yourself for having put yourself through this. With everything in you, you squeeze your eyes shut and look down, the only way you know you’ll be able to ward off the tears, though you know your conduct is a dead giveaway as to what you’re trying to do.

He says your name, and there it is again, relief. Fleeting and short-lived, but making that one small breath easier to inhale than the rest.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper in frustration. Opening your eyes to see his feet having moved closer to you than they were before.

Always concerned with the wellbeing of his tribe. You remember. That’s what this big brute is known for anyway, right? You can trust him.

“No,” He says, his tone soft spoken, a sharp contrast to his intimidating form. “Take your time.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head at the floor before forcing your eyes up once again.

Always maintain eye contact. It’s a show of respect. And you always show your superiors that you respect them. Your dad's words remind you to keep your head level to Paz’s. Or...at least as level as it can be to Paz’s.

The reminder that you are indeed speaking to an alor’ad stirs up new nerves in your belly, you were falling apart in front of a captain. Worse, a Vizsla, Mandalorian royalty.

“Um,” you eventually sputter out, collecting your thoughts. “Well I...I kind of have a weird request.” Your murmur.

Are you going to faint? It feels like you’re going to faint.

“Okay,” He nods to indicate you have his full attention, “What is it?”

“Um,” Your voice wavers, suddenly feeling very shaky and lightheaded again, and incredibly annoyed that you didn’t just opt to put on your helmet for the sake of hiding your face. Only...it makes it really hard to breathe when you already feel like you can’t get enough air. And pulling it off every five minutes to clean your face of newly gathered tears was difficult.

He says your name again, this time slowly raising a hand to your shoulder. You exhale in relief when you’re met by his touch. “Hey,” He says, “It’s okay, what do you need?”

You take another calming breath, soothed by the weight of his hand that hasn’t left your shoulder. “Well first, are-are you busy today?”

What a stupid question, you think. He ranks high up in the chain of command, of course he’s busy. Not to mention, it’s probably, what, 5 a.m. right now? And he’s sitting in the dining hall. He certainly didn’t wake up this early because he didn’t have something to do.

“Not at all.” He assures with a shake of his helmet.

Sure.

You dismiss the obvious lie, staring his blue visor straight on. You can see your pathetic, teary-eyed reflection staring back at you in the space where his eyes would be.

He wants you to tell him what’s wrong, you remind yourself, just do it.

Using what remaining courage you have, you open your mouth to speak. “I...I know you don’t know me that well. I don’t really...know you either. I-I don't even know why I’m here asking you this right now. But, um, my-” you choke on your words, confidence diminishing “-my dad is dead, and I’m hurting and afraid and feeling completely unlike myself. I don’t know when the last time I slept was or if I’ve eaten anything in the last couple of days. I just know that-that something really awful has happened to me and I know y-you and I we-we’re practically strangers but right now I just n-need someone and I r-really want that person to be you-”

You hadn’t even realized the flood of tears gushing down your cheeks or the defeated sobs suddenly shaking your body until you were pulled into a pair of arms, his arms.

Strong, protective, shielding arms.

You hear the gentle sounds of Paz shooshing you, his hand pressed to the back of your head and cradling you in a comforting manner.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika.” He hums, voice light and sweet like honey.

You almost don't mind the heavy sobs racking your body for a moment.

Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart.

You feel his body stir above you, either looking around or else...motioning something to someone. “Hey,” He whispers, keeping your head tucked into his arm, “Come over here with me.”

He guides you away from the dining hall where no doubt, despite your best efforts, whoever was in there had both seen and heard you throw your fit. At the very least catching your sobs at the end.

Ushering you around the corner to an empty hallway, he helps you down on a bench, sitting next to you. Your sobs slowly subsiding to small sniffles under the gloved hand moving soothing circles up and down your back.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, allowing you time to gather yourself. Once the wobbliness in your breathing evens out to a calmer, drawn out, pace, he asks again, “What can I do, vod’ika? I’ll help you, just tell me what you need?”

You nod your head, electing not to rub the abused skin around your eyes that was being continuously irritated by tears. “Could you maybe, stay with me today?” You ask timidly.

“Yes,” He responds instantly, “Yes, of course. Wh-what would you like to do? How can we...divert your attention?” He attempts to sidetrack the word distract, acknowledging that his word choice probably doesn’t make much a difference. “Is there anything on your agenda today?”

“N-no.” You sniff. “All my responsibilities this week were redistributed to other people. I have nothing to do.”

He hums, considering your words.

“But um,” you offer, “I suppose it would be good to take a shower.” You chuckle lifelessly, tugging at the unwashed ends of your hair.

You see his form tense beside you, and your eyes widen in horror in realising your error.

“O-oh maker, no. I was kidding, cause I’m a mess and all that’s - kriff - that’s not at all what I was insinuating-” You panic, fumbling for words.

He chuckles lowly beside you, raising a hand up to ease your stammering, “No, it’s okay. I understand. Allow me to...escort you then?”

“To the-” You swallow, cheeks no doubt pinkened by the encounter, “You really don’t have to I wasn’t seri-”

“Self-care is important.” He says, rising to his feet. “It’s the start of a new day, and it’s early enough that you’ll likely have the entire washroom to yourself. C’mon,” He extends an arm out to you. You contemplate taking it for a moment, briefly, again, considering Collin.

Who isn’t here.

“Really?” You ask, stunned both by his willingness to wait outside the washroom while you shower and his consideration of your privacy.

He lifts his elbow again in response. You rise from your seated position, hand hesitantly grabbing a hold of his arm as he lowers it back towards his side, making the gesture less obvious to prying eyes.

You hold onto the crease of his elbow, your other hand mindlessly joining your other so that you practically hang onto him. He tugs you forward, and you begin walking at a comfortable pace.

“Thank you,” You say, sounding stunned again. “I...I can’t imagine that when you woke up this morning you thought you’d be babysitting a stranger.” You mumble, embarrassed.

He huffs, “You are not a stranger,” then he says your name, again. Honey, pure honey.

“You are a member of my tribe,” He continues, “Even though we do not know each other well, I still care about you.”

You blink back your surprise at his words. This man truly is honorable. Caring and considerate and selfless. A big brute with an even bigger heart. You can’t stop yourself from looking up at him, nearly gaping at his words. “You care about me?” You ask.

He hums, looking at your wide eyes staring up at him.

“You don’t even know me.” You mutter as he looks away. You can’t possibly care about someone who you don’t know.

“I’m observant.”

You hesitate, feeling another foreign feeling flutter in your belly.

“Observant?” You challenge.

His visor looks back down at you, your puffy eyes swimming with curiosity. You want him to prove it.

He takes a tentative breath, hoping you’ll allude his suspiciously observant behaviors of you with the fact that he was trained to be hyper aware of his surroundings. He speaks slowly, “Your favorite food is vegetable pie, probably because it’s a main course, but also sweet. You like to busy yourself with your hands, often tinkering with whatever small, broken objects you manage to find around the covert. Every morning, you head to the training room early to run your own drills and stretch before everyone else arrives. You have a boyfriend, Collin I believe, who you like to align your chores with so you can do them together, except for cleaning the kitchens, which you always try to switch off with somebody else.”

Your eyes stare unblinkingly at his profile. “How-how do you know that?”

“Because kitchen duty is always crossed out under your name on the chores chart, and a different chore is always handwritten underneath.” He says, unable to contain an amused laugh. He opts to only remark on the last of his observations.

You slow to a stop, feeling suddenly incredibly ashamed. “Wow,” You say in admiration. “I-”

You can’t think of anything to say in response, you don’t know anything about him. And here he was telling you that not only does he care for you simply as a member of his tribe, but he actually knows things about you.

You’re overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, “Paz- I’m...I’m ashamed to say that I don’t even know what your favorite color is.”

He barks out a laugh, surprising you. “Are you concerned with what my favorite color is, cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” You answer, perhaps a silly amount of gravity. “Upon hearing all the things you know about me that most others don't, I mean I’m...I’m touched Paz.”

His tilts his head, visor lingering on your face a moment, and you’re sure that while it was a somewhat silly conversation, he can see the annoying little pools of water that gathered in your eyes again.

He’s silent for a moment. “My favorite color is brown,” He says.

“Brown.” You reflect.

He nods, “It’s warm, soothing.”

“Okay,” You say, hand reaching for his elbow again. “Brown. I’ll remember that.” You squeeze his sleeve in promise.

“I’m sure you will,” He smiles. Or at least you think he does. It sure sounds like he does.

You continue walking on in silence, only passing one other vod in the spacious hall. You’re fairly certain that the Mando approaching does a double take as he sees you clinging to the heavy infantry warrior, but Paz just gives him a nod as you pass in silence. It’s still terribly early. Or late, to you at least. For it to be early you would have had to have slept in the first place.

Your pace is slow, and you wonder if Paz notices the utter exhaustion plaguing your body.

Oh. He must, you think upon catching a reflection of yourself.

Kriff, you look about as good as you feel.

He stops outside your room so you could run in and bag some clothes, before you venture down to the washrooms. You walk comfortably in silence, despite having enjoyed some distracting conversation with him, it feels like the most you’ve spoken all week, and it was tiring, though not unpleasant.

“Could I, ask you something?” He hesitates, clearing his throat. Noting that you keep your eyes glued to the space in front of your feet. “Where is your...uh, Collin?”

He should be doing this. Paz reflects. Taking care of you.

You raise your eyebrows at the floor. “Sleeping I’m sure.”

“Well yes,” He says, “But why hasn’t he been, you know...around?”

His brows furrow at his own words. Well done Paz, you di’kut. First the poor girl’s dad dies, then you offend her by asking why her boyfriend hasn’t been taking care of her. Let alone the fact that you just made it known you’ve noticed his absence. That did not come out at all how he wanted it to.

He’s surprised by a little laugh emitting from your lips. Small and half-hearted and barely audible, but by maker if even then it isn’t one of the prettiest sounds he ever heard.

“Cause..” you sigh, searching for the answer. “-cause he’s an asshole.” You mutter, blunt as the truth leaves your lips.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have overstepped-”

“It’s okay,” you mumble, “what’s one more thing in my life..”

Paz is silent for a moment. You’re surprised your eyes haven't welled with tears again. Lately it seems like they prefer looking through a blurry lens rather than a clear one. But maybe a part of you expected this with Collin. Your relationship isn’t what it used to be. For the last six months it seems as though his interest in you has slowly diminished. It takes having something fun and interesting for him to seem excited about spending time with you. Cause maker forbid anytime you try to just sit and hang out with him you enjoy yourselves, he’s always got some excuse on hand to get him out of it.

“No,” Paz insists, interrupting your ruminations. “I’m sorry. Perhaps he thought space is what you wanted?”

I think space is what he wanted.

You don’t answer, arriving to the washrooms. Being the only two people in at this hour, the echo of his heavy armor clinks around the wide space. You pass door after door of the enormous shower rooms. Kriff, this is weird. Why was the first thing you thought of when he asked you what you would normally do to shower? I mean sure that was true, but certainly you could have forgone this item on your agenda for the sake of being...proper?

You glance at your passing figure in a mirror and flinch.

Although.

Maybe you...need a shower.

You must have showered within the last few days, right?

“Okay,” Paz says, breaking the silence. “I’ll wait out here.” He says, standing in the communal space with sinks and benches. “You just, take your time vod’ika. Let the water...freshen you up or, soothe you or..some shit.”

Your frown abruptly turns into a wide smile as you giggle.

Victory. He thinks.

His breath hitches behind his own helmet. Kriff, you have a lovely smile. How had he never noticed your smile before?

“Thank you, Paz.” You say, retreating to a random facility and briskly closing the door.

You lean against the door once it’s shut, the ghost of a smile still on your cheeks.

He’s really just going to stand out there. Just so that you know he’s there, that you’re not alone.

“Wow.” You whisper, soaking in the warm feeling in your stomach. It feels like forever since you’ve felt that, giddiness.

You move to turn on the water, slowly stripping yourself of your clothes. You were still wearing your nightshirt from your fruitless sleep endeavors. It was nothing indecent, just a plain, black, elbow-length shirt. Luckily, you had had enough sense in you to pull on a sports bra before you abandoned any notions of sleep, lazily just slipping on some green cargo pants over your leggings before wandering aimlessly through the covert.

You look comfortable but...certainly not like a fierce Mandalorian.

You try your hardest to wash the gloom off your face, focusing your attention on the mission at hand in hopes of keeping distracted. Now you remember why you’d been putting off showering. For some reason, whenever you’re buried under the protective warmth of the loud, secluded shower, at least since it happened, you started to-

The first sniffle comes before you sense its approach, and within seconds your body is shaking in silent sobs.

“Shit.” You whisper.

Pull it together, it’s okay, just breathe. Paz is out there, you don’t want him to hear you.

Your tears blend together with the water running down your body from the shower, making it impossible to discern what is the result of your own pain and what procured it.

You let out a silent whimper, quiet enough that thankfully, you’re sure Paz couldn’t have heard.

Breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay.

No. I’m not okay.

I’m all alone.

“Stop it.” You scold yourself harshly, your soft breath echoing only in your ears.

You are not alone.

Someone is here for you.

Paz. Paz dropped everything to take care of you.

He’s right outside that door, waiting for you.

You take another moment to compose yourself, allowing the last few suds to wash down your form before turning the water off. You quickly dry yourself off and pull on your change of clothes, now wearing a blue sweater and leggings. You didn’t even bother bringing a flight suit. What’s one more day of not suiting up. But at least you’ve still got your boots.

You walk to the mirror, sighing once you get a good look at yourself.

Great.

Swollen, red, angry eyes stare back at you with a red nose to match.

Fuck. You shove all your things back into the sack, giving your hair a final few shakes with the towel before moving towards the door.

It swings open, and you’re met with the sight of Paz leaning against the opposite wall. Arms crossed, one foot propped up against the wall. His visor turns in your direction as you emerge from the chambers. He hmphs, observing your appearance.

“What?” You ask, hesitating to step closer.

“I like the color.”

You look down at your sweater, unknowingly having sported a blue in the exact same shade as his armor. You hide your gaze in your chest, mumbling a half-amused, “Oh.”

“It signifies reliability, did you know that?” He asks.

You still don’t meet his gaze, but smile. Makes sense.

“It is very fitting for you.” He finishes.

You finally look up at him. For you? He believes you to be reliable? “Oh, th-thank you.” You stutter, feeling truly flattered by his compliment.

His visor tilts silently back and forth on your features as you step up at him. He notices your freshly irritated eyes.

“Are you-”

“-it’s nothing.” You interrupt, shaking your head.

“I um,” You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to lighten the mood with an obviously forced smile. “I tend to emerge from showers with angry eyes, at least, as of late.”

Paz’s hand surprises you as it reaches up, gently cupping your elbow, so swiftly you’re not even sure he meant to do it.

“Not angry, mesh’la,” He mutters, “sad.”

Your mouth gapes open slightly, not having expected such a remark from him. He seems slightly distressed by his own slip of the tongue as well, immediately tensing.

His mind is reeling, guilt flooding over him like a tidal wave in a storm. He feels as though he crossed a line. He’s supposed to be caring for you, distracting you, not calling you beautiful when you already belong to someone else.

“I’m-”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Both your gazes snap up in the direction of the source.

Standing under an archway, halfway between the entrance of the washrooms and you, is Collin.

Your breath hitches, “Collin.” You breathe out.

Paz’s hand jerks instantly from your elbow, hanging tensely by his side.

Collin says your name questioningly, taking another step towards you. He’s wearing his armor, but his helmet hangs down by his side. Blonde eyebrows furrowed suspiciously at the two of you.

“I said,” he repeats, “what is going on in here?”

“Nothing.” You say instantly, taking a step away from Paz.

Well that was a suspiciously guilty maneuver.

Collin eyes Paz for a moment, whose form hasn’t moved even an inch since Collin interrupted you both. He closes the distance between the two of you, but still stays a generous space away.

“What are you doing down here at this hour?” He questions, eyebrows furrowed tightly together.

“I..I couldn’t sleep.” You say.

“Again?”

Again? Your father died not one week ago, does he really expect you to be sleeping soundly?

“Yes it’s- been difficult to find the right headspace for rest.” You answer. “I thought perhaps a warm shower would help alleviate the uneasiness.”

His eyes flick to Paz before quickly landing back on your own, suddenly morphing his face into one of concern. His posture loosens slightly and he reaches towards you, showing you more affection than he has in months. “Well, are you okay? You don’t look very good.” Collin says.

Your frown deepens, suddenly you feel very offended.

“Yeah? Well I look the way I feel, wise guy.” You snap, startling both of you by your outburst. His hand retreats from your space, moving to clench and unclench by his side.

“I’m sorry,” He scoffs after taking a tense breath, “Have I done something wrong?”

“Collin-” Paz’s voice breaks his role as an audience member to your discussion, polite but still warning in his tone.

“-No, I am not speaking to you.” Collin spits out, “I’m speaking to my girlfriend. My girlfriend who you were getting awfully close to in the privacy of this empty washroom.”

Your heart is thumping in your chest. He’s right, this certainly was not a good look. It was highly irregular for you to be up so early. And here you were alone at an ungodly hour with a man who wasn’t your partner. Kriff, how could you be so stupid? You should have known that Collin would stumble in here at this time, he does early morning flight training every week, today must be his lesson. It must have slipped your mind, or maybe you’d forgotten his schedule. Had he even shown you his schedule?

No. No, he hadn’t. When was the last time you even saw him? Surely a few times a day but had you even shared a moment of substance together since the funeral? You’ve gone to him for comfort yet you can’t remember how any of those interactions went. He dismissed you, or offered you a peck on the forehead before changing the subject.

Come to think of it, how dare he come in here angry with you for anything. If anything, you should be the one who’s angry. Paz was right, where has he been?

“You’re right.” Paz says, shocking you and Collin both, your gaze quickly snapping in his direction. “I shouldn't have reached for her. But I was only trying to comfort her, I swear to you that is all. Regardless, you need to relax.” He speaks calmly, the warning back in his tone.

Collin huffs, taking a menacing step in Paz’s direction. He always was arrogant.

Your eyes widen, “Collin-”

He rasps out his next words in with a snarl, cutting off your attempt to de-escalate the situation. “Listen here, vod-” He spits, but not before being cut off by a startling quick grab to the front of his chest plate, yanking him forward.

Collin’s heels barely graze the floor as he looks directly up at Paz’s visor, who seems to have grown another six inches, the two quite literally helm to helm.

“You do not address me as your vod in such a manner of disrespect.” Paz growls, his voice sending a harsh shiver down your spine, slightly in alarm, slightly in...something else.

Your breath hitches, frozen as you watch the scene unfold. If you’re too frightened to move, you can’t imagine how Collin feels. Although...maybe a small part of you wishes you did.

“Jare’la,” Paz scoffs, shaking his head. “I am your alor’ad. And I do not tolerate a lack of respect. If you are confused about your place, then I will gladly show you where it is. Tayli’bac, vod?” He spits the words out menacingly, challenging Collin to oppose his authority.

“Elek! Elek, alor’ad!” Collin stammers, “N’eparavu takisit!”

Paz huffs, visor staring Collin down a moment longer before releasing him, shoving him back in the process.

He stumbles to catch himself, grabbing onto the side of the sink for leverage. You’ve never seen him look so...cowardly.

He looks to you, taking a moment to gather himself. Your eyes are still wide, mouth agape as you just stare at him in disbelief. He wets his lips with his tongue, seeming to swallow down another remark, eyes darting to Paz before returning to you. “So, that’s the way it is, huh?”

You’re speechless, “I- I don’t..”

You contemplate the severity of the moment, what’s at stake. Your silence is answer enough, you decide, before opting to look down, relinquishing your chance to speak. With it goes your willingness to explain, to try and salvage whatever pathetic excuse of a relationship you thought you had had with him. “I’m sorry, Collin.” You say, unsure of the words as they leave your mouth.

You hear only the sound of heavy breathing. Two sources of heavy breathing, and neither of them are coming from you. Then, a sound akin to that of a growl. You look up to face him again, only to see his focus on the man beside you. Paz looks back at him, unmoving, domineering, daring him to overstep.

Was Collin challenging you, or Paz?

Was Paz simply defending you or...challenging Collin? And for what?

You feel another spike in anxiety, suddenly feeling as though you were observing a mating duel, a challenge over possession of a lioness, a female...not...terribly uncommon in Mandalorian culture, though nonetheless offensive.

“That’s enough.” You whisper, though with enough exertion to be heard by both males.

You see Paz’s visor turn to face you out of the corner of your eye, but you don’t move, keeping your gaze averted to Collin.

He stares Paz down for another moment before meeting your eyes, saying your name with a stiff nod, and uttering a “Goodbye,” before briskly leaving the room.

You let out an exhale once he’s rounded the corner, catching your breath. That was it.

You’ve lost him.

You stare at the empty door, at the ghost of the shadow where he once stood, waiting for the tears to fall. You feel heavy, you feel distressed, but perhaps not anymore than you already had. There’s not a swirl of emotion in your gut nor rising in your throat that compels tears to swim in your eyes again.

You hear your name being called once, twice. The third time, you look up, much higher up than you’d expected to, at the imposing figure now standing directly above you.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly.

You hold his gaze, watching your reflection blinking up at him. He doesn’t move, waiting for your response to his question. Your gaze drifts down slightly and to the side, staring at the plain wall behind him, before reconcentrating your focus.

“What um,” Your voice comes out somewhat both hoarse and mellow, quiet as you continue, “What should we do next?”

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

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Paz was guilt ridden. Surely he could have let the little brat mouth off to him one time to spare you from getting hurt. But no, he just had to go and threaten the kid right in front of you. It was just instinctual. He would have done it without restraint any other time to any other member stepping out of line, but upon reflection, maybe the whole thing was his fault. Collin had walked in on you two nearly close enough to embrace. Of course he was pissed. And then, he degraded him, ordering him into submission right in front of your eyes.

You didn’t blame him. Not in the slightest. I mean, what did Collin expect? He straight up challenged the alor’ad. It was foolish and insulting, and quite honestly Paz wouldn’t have been out of line to clock him then and there. But you suppose he was holding himself back for the sake of your wellbeing, not wanting you to watch your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - get pounded on while you were already in such a state.

“Yes.” You say, emitting a heavy exhale. You really were.

The halls have started filling with armored warriors, the covert finally beginning to come to life with a sunrise shining through the trees and early risers popping up.

“Vizsla!” Someone shouts, the two of you turn to see Stephan jogging towards you.

“Hey,” He says, walking once he reached a comfortable earshot, “We missed you on that perimeter run. Was surprised you didn’t show up, is everything-?”

His voice trails off, visor finally ticking in your direction. He seems a little taken aback by your presence, or rather that you were within Paz’s company.

“Vod’ika,” He finally says. “What are you doing with- uh, I mean, how are you?”

“What am I doing with Paz?” You smile, “You don’t think I could handle a perimeter run, Steph?”

His helmet ticks back in surprise at your banter, “N-no, vod’ika.” He says, looking at Paz and huffing in amusement. “We’ll gladly have you join us on the next one.”

“Sure.” Paz nods.

“So…” Stephan continues with uncertainty, “How-how are you?”

Couldn’t make it thirty seconds in without having that question thrown out at you.

You hesitate, the frown slowly returning to your face. Should you answer truthfully? Lie? How are you?

“I’m…”

You seem stuck on the word. Did you choose a word? What word are you even looking for?

You’re still talking. You remind yourself.

Shit, now you look like you’ve shut down.

You feel a hand rest on your back, blinking forward from your gaze that had somehow been drawn down towards Stephans boots.

“We were just heading to the kitchens.” Paz responds, you tilt your face in his direction without raising your eyes, keeping them glued to the space in front of you, ashamed.

“Okay, yeah.” Stephen says hastily, “Well, uh, Jay made some really good morning muffins, vod’ika, and they’re still warm I bet.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, offering a pitiful smile, “I’m sure.”

Poor Stephan, it’s not his fault you were like this. He’s just checking in on you, and here you are making him feel bad for asking about your wellbeing. It’s just a question.

Kriff, why are you so weak?

You conceal yourself back in your thoughts, sure that you look absent with glazed over eyes. But you can't bring yourself to care. That’s the weird thing about feeling so desolate, you just don’t have the energy to hide it sometimes.

You hear the foggy exchange of words between the two warriors, simply choosing to retract yourself from the conversation and instead focus your attention on the gloved hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

Stephan’s modulator rises to a more upbeat tone before stepping forward and offering Paz a light slap on the arm as he passes, evidently dismissing the two of you to carry on with your business.

Paz’s form shifts to watch Stephan leave before turning to you. “Okay?” He asks.

“Okay.” You nod.

He hums, sounding unconvinced as he lightly nudges you forward again, letting his hand drop from its place on your jumper.

No... come back.

You walk side by side in silence, trying to get him to walk a step ahead of you so you can follow. But anytime your step falters purposefully to give him the lead he slows his own, silently insisting you walk side by side. Instead, he steers your direction with fleeting contacts. A hand pulling your arm, his gloved fingers tapping your shoulder. You’re happy to let him guide you, appreciating the delicate touches in direction.

Feeling a sliver of life breathed into you at each one.

The touches stop far sooner than you need them to upon arrival to your destination. You notice you’re heading towards the mess hall again, feeling discomfort at the idea of seeing more of your vods, or worse, having a repeat of your public meltdown you’d had just a few short hours ago.

You’re more alert now, having picked up on the light buzzing from the dining hall. There’s probably quite a few people out there now. And you’re not sure you’re ready to face another wave of concerned and attentive brothers and sisters.

“Paz-” You say, ready to object, but not before you’re steered off to the side, scarcely missing exposure to the hall full of bustling Mandalorians.

Instead, Paz opens a door and gestures for you to walk through, which you do.

Oh. The kitchen.

You’ve been in here many times, but not often during the day. Jay keeps a tight lockdown on the kitchen, only allowing his apprentice to be in here during the working hours of the covert. He’s got a considerable number of Mandalorians to feed, yet he prefers to tackle the challenge alone. Usually kicking anyone out who pops in to help, scolding them for messing up his rhythm.

He has no problem allowing people to make their rounds of kitchen duty though, but that only consists of cleaning up the space once it’s shut down for the night. Mopping, washing, organizing...he tends to lock up all the good treats and hide away the key, making the task totally not worthwhile for you.

Of course, being the daughter of the unsanctioned Alor and all, you had special privileges. One of them being you could hang around the kitchen without Jay kicking you out every time. He still did, but he gave you more leeway than the others if you stayed out of his way and only snacked on the scraps he wasn’t saving.

The door swings shut behind you and you round the corner, the clink of your armored warrior just behind you.

Whoa, whoa. You stop yourself. Your?

You catch sight of a red Mandalorian viciously attending to something on the stove. “What are you two doing in here?” Jay shouts over his shoulder, turning back to his frying.

Paz looks around the empty kitchen, “I heard a rumor about morning muffins.” The deep rumble of his voice saying the words prompts a breathy giggle from your lips, catching his attention, before he continues to glance around for the treats.

Jay huffs, motioning with his wooden spoon to the corner, “Over there. Take one and get out.”

“Thanks,” Paz says, his hands lightly resting on your shoulders from behind and nudging you forward. “Nice attitude.” He mumbles for your ears, an amused smile still lingering on your lips.

“Nice signet.” Jay scoffs, evidently having heard, “Or lack thereof.”

“Nice apron.”

“Okay- get out of my kitchen.” Jay says, looking up from his dicing.

You surprise yourself by letting out a lively laugh. Paz’s hands tighten over your shoulders at the sudden sound, feeling damn near enamored by Jay for having caused it.

He looks to Jay and gives him a grateful nod, who nods slightly in return, so as not to be caught by your gaze, before returning to his work.

You make your way to the tray of muffins in the corner, boldly sitting down on the couch in front of the fire. Exactly where you and your dad would sit and enjoy the freshly baked cookies or cake made by Jay that morning, the small area being off limits to everyone else in the covert.

Paz is certain Jay would have snapped at them to get away from his personal space if it weren’t for you. You’re sat next to him, gazing at the fire that Jay lights every morning to warm the frigid kitchen.

“For you.” Paz says, handing you a small muffin with a napkin wrapped protectively around it.

You smile at him, accepting the gesture, just allowing it to slowly warm up your fingers in your lap. The movements of the fire captivating your attention as the flames dance in the soft lighting.

“Cyar'ika.” He says softly, the word sending a shiver down your spine. “You really ought to eat something.”

You look to your side again, taking in Paz’s appearance on the tiny couch. Its small size having forced you to sit right up against each other. The leg closest to you is propped up and over the other comfortably, his knee resting elevated slightly above your own.

You wonder if you clink your knee against his own if his hand will slip off it and land on yours.

A silly thought, you think, amusing yourself.

His tilting visor alerts you that you’ve been shamelessly gawking at him. Twice in one day.

“I- um,” You stutter, averting your gaze. “I’m not terribly hungry, Paz.”

He hums, “Well it’s a good thing you’re not terribly hungry because all you’ve got there is a teeny muffin.”

“Yes, it would appear so.” You smile, still making no movement to eat it.

Paz breathes in a slow, contemplative sigh. Guilt starts to flood your senses again, he’s done so much for you today, why can’t you just do this one thing for him?

“Tell you what,” he offers, your eyes rising to meet his visor, “You eat that muffin, maybe have a little bit of tea, and I’ll tell you about the time your vod and I went to Jabba’s Palace.”

Your eyes widen, and you boldly swing your hand down to grasp his arm as you straighten. “The Hutt story?” You choke. “You’ll tell me the Hutt story?”

Paz’s modulator rumbles as he chuckles, knowing he’s got you entrapped by a golden exchange.

He nods, “I’ll tell you the untold and widely sought-after story about the time Devin and I went to visit the Hutts-”

“-Deal!” You squeeze his arm, still gripping tightly from earlier.

“Yeah,” Jay utters, his looming figure now standing directly behind you both, “Kriffing deal.”

“Get out of here.” Paz huffs, shoving Jay back over the arm of the couch. He doesn’t argue, but you see his retreating form adjust the volume settings on his vambrace.

Paz shifts back cheekily with his arms spread around the couch. He gestures to the uneaten muffin on your lap, waiting for you to uphold your end of the deal.

You sigh, unwrapping the baked good. But the thrill of getting to know the story that caused such an uproar in the covert shoo’s away the discomfort, replacing it with a slightly giddy feeling.

You take a bite, looking at him expectantly. He just scoffs, gesturing again to the tiny muffin in your hand. “C’mon, that thing is like the size of a whistle bird, you finish that before you get the story,” He says, with much emphasis on the “before.”

Fair.

You down the muffin faster than you thought you could, much too excited to finally hear the secret tale. You were going to have bragging rights around this place forever. Paz shakes his head at you, lightly laughing, “So that’s all it takes, huh?” He nods to the empty napkin in your hand.

You ignore him, knowing he knows full well the value of this information. Whatever it was that happened when those two visited Jabba’s Palace, Devin had come back damn near afraid of his own shadow. It took months for him to pull himself together. Your vod would literally jump at the sound of an egg cracking open, reaching for his blaster and slipping up on his grasp. It was kriffing hysterical to you and everyone else in the tribe. And you assumed you weren’t really being malicious. Paz had been there too and returned unscathed, and laughed all the same. And even though he teased Devin to no end about it, he swore he’d never tell a soul what happened, so up until this point, nobody knew what it was. But here you were.

Paz turns over his shoulder, “Hey Jay,” He says politely. “How about a cup of tea for your vod’ika?”

“What am I your maid?” Jay retorts.

“You are the cook.”

Jay mutters something under his breath, but you don’t pay him any mind, having heard him fill up a pot of water immediately upon Paz’s request.

You avert your gaze from Paz’s helmet as soon as he turns to face you again. You look to the fire, biting your lip as a smile slowly grows on your face. It crosses your mind that you feel not only okay in this very moment but actually...happy. The fleeting moments of relief you’ve been feeling all morning, small moments of peace jumbled in with all the sadness and the anxiety, were all because of him. This man who you did not even know three hours ago. Who let you cry in his arms, who stood guard outside the washroom while you showered, who defended you, called you sweetheart, made sure you knew he was always there with you. The same man who now sat next to you on the couch you weren’t allowed to sit on in a kitchen you weren’t allowed to be in. Your smile grows wider, and in your peripheral you’re very aware of his visor still staring at you.

“What?” Paz chuckles.

“Nothing.” You giggle, tears gathering in your eyes. But for the first time today, first time all week, forming not in pain but in relief.

“What is it?” He insists, still playful in his tone. His knee nudges you as if to prompt a response.

A tear slips down your cheek and he leans forward instinctively, his hand finding yours in your lap without hesitation. “Mesh’la, what is it?” He asks again, this time void of all silliness, concerned.

You shake your head, your small smile still present, but certainly reflecting more of the emotion you were feeling.

You place your other hand on top of his own that covers yours, trapping his gloved fingers in your two hands, before looking up at him.

“Just, thank you Paz.” You say, admiration and gratitude dripping from your voice.

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

He likes your voice, he decides, it sounds so sweet, like pure honey.

His eyes are lost in yours behind the visor, watching another tear slip down your delicate cheek. He can hear the relief in your voice. The pure relief and admiration. Admiration? Do you feel admiration for him? He sure hopes you do, otherwise you might find it weird that he’s staring at you for so long. Kriff, he should stop staring at you. But look at those eyes. Those wonderfully expressive eyes that aren’t looking angry or sad or pained, but warm. He feels ensnared by your gaze, a light smile trailing your features, a sprinkle of tears sliding down your cheeks. He watches one slip down the shape of your cheek, rounding your nose and lips before forming a teardrop on your chin. He watches it glisten, unable to bear letting it fall. Mindlessly, he raises a gloved finger to catch it.

Your breath hitches at the contact, and his finger hovers under your jaw before sliding up to catch another.

Your eyes flit back and forth along the dark shade of his visor, searching, wondering what his eyes look like, head tilting unconsciously into his glove.

He takes the gesture as permission, slowly lifting his thumb, his palm, his whole hand up against your cheek.

You both feel suspended, his hand frozen caressing your cheek. Your eyes have dried up now, carrying a glow of wonder in them. His head tilts slowly and unknowingly to the side, almost like he can’t hold up the weight of his helmet a second longer.

The sound of approaching footfalls brings you back to reality, Paz’s hand drops from your cheek and your faces turning towards the source that dared to interrupt your moment.

“Geez, no need to cry about it, I’ve got your tea.” Jay quips, perfectly deescalating the tension of the moment. Making it a point to show you he was minding his own business.

“Um, thank you.” You mutter, still coming back to the present.

“It’s sleepytime tea.” Jay says, “Ground with dandisonyl.”

“Dandisonyl?” You ask, more alert, “That stuff is rare and expensive.”

“And strong.” Paz huffs.

“And expensive.” You insist again, looking down at your tea. “Jay, why would you waste this on me?”

He leans down against his forearms, now looming over your shoulders. His smug nature radiating off his posture alone, “Now, and this is just an observation, but you look kriffing tired. And that there,” He gestures to the cup of earthy smelling tea you’ve placed on the table in front of you, “That’s sleepytime tea. And you, vod’ika, of all people, look like you need some serious, quality, sleepytime.”

His statement ends with a pinch to your cheeks, and it’s your turn to aggressively shove him backward, causing Paz to let out a sweet laugh.

“Paz,” You say, looking to the only superior present, “He wasted good, expensive herbs on me. That stuff can be used medicinally.” You say with reprimand in your voice.

Paz surprises you by shrugging, “He kind of did use it medicinally.”

“Oh, alor’ad.” You chastise, using his official title to remind him of his role here.

He shrugs, using his whole body for the movement, before picking up your cup and placing it back in your hands. “I suppose you’re right, alor’ika.” He teases, “So you’d better drink it all so as not to let it go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of the tea. With your nose nestled into the cup you miss the silent exchange of approval Paz gives Jay.

Readjusting your position so that you’re facing the fire again, you turn your head towards Paz, taking another sip of your tea, it is surprisingly good. “Get on with the story then.” You command, grinning at your victory.

“Okay.” Paz says, grunting as he adjusts himself to sit comfortably once again on the small couch, opting this time to keep one arm swung over behind your head. You smile in content, looking down sheepishly at your tea and having a bit more.

“Well, it all started on the ship. I mean before we even got to Tatooine. Devin, being the utreekov that he is, forgot to bring the kriffing-...”

You listen intently to his story. He’s using his hands as he talks, passionate and perhaps a little dramatic. He’s taking extra care to include all the details, probably indulging in the fact that you and, undoubtedly, Jay, are paying him your absolute, undivided attention. You sip at your tea, the taste warm and comforting alongside Paz’s sweet voice. Your eyes are getting heavier, and you blink at the burning feeling stinging your eyes from the light of the fire, deciding that you’ll be able to listen better with your eyes closed, and gently placing the empty mug on the table.

“So, finally we get to Jabba’s palace. And Devin’s already a nervous wreck after that encounter with the Trandoshans, and-”

His voice carries a hint of thrill in it. You wonder if he feels exhilarated in finally getting to tell this story. Your lips twitch slightly, content that he’s trusting you with it.

Feeling heavier on one side, you allow your head to swing slightly in his direction, snuggling more into the embrace of the couch.

You notice his words trailing off, realizing you weren't paying much attention. Hearing only the sounds of the crackling fire in front of you, you slowly force your eyes open.

Paz’s head is turned down as much as it can in his position. And though you can’t see his visor, you’re certain he’s staring at you.

“Keep talking.” You mutter, resting your head back again.

You hear the sweetest breath of a chuckle sound from beneath his helmet, which you suddenly realise you're very near to. “Close your eyes again.”

“No, I wanna listen to the story.” You mumble, your low energy blending the words together.

“You can only evade sleep for so long sweetheart.”

“We’ll see.” You challenge, eyes fluttering closed against your will.

“Yes, we will.” He whispers. He’s silent another moment, admiring you and your peaceful expression with a smile on his face before carrying on with the story, speaking much more softly than before. The light humming of his voice is soothing, and you notice it growing quieter and quieter, yet the feelings of security and warmth and relief all stay with you.

Paz looks towards the fire as he speaks, trying to draw out the story as long as he can. He feels the light weight of your head resting against his shoulder, not daring to move a muscle and disturb your peaceful slumber.

It’s still early in the morning. Behind the fireplace and through the density of the thick wall, Paz can hear the covert coming to life. And while their days are just starting, yours has finally come to a peaceful end. He listens to your serene breathing through the long pauses he takes in his story, knowing that really, he’s only telling it to Jay now, who notably moves through the kitchen swiftly and with as little clicking and clanking as he can muster.

“-And so, that’s what happened on Tatooine.” Paz whispers, looking at your parted lips and lightly closed eyelids.

The fire casts a harmonious glow on your face, making your features look warmer, livelier, serene.

You look utterly angelic.

He remembers how you crumbled in his arms not five hours ago, pained and distressed and lonely. You sought him out even though you didn’t know him, not knowing how much he’d admired you from afar. To see your normally light and radiant face masked with such despair, he couldn’t bear to see it again.

He watches your sleeping form take a staggering breath, your body relaxing into its position, nudging your face further into where it fell on his shoulder. He dares to let the arm wrapped around the couch lower slightly, so that it rests comfortingly around your form.

“Sleep, cyar’ika,” He whispers. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He hopes his silent promise is enough to soothe your sleeping form, listening to your breathing even out to a more peaceful rhythm.

“I’ll be here for as long as you need.”

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

Translations:

Alor - chancellor Vod’ika - little sister Osik - shit Di’kut - idiot Jare’la - stupidly oblivious of danger / asking for it. Alor’ad - captain Tayli’bac, vod? - Do you understand, mate? (menacing) Elek! Elek, alor’ad! - Yes! Yes, captain! N’eparavu takisit! - I’m sorry (lit. I eat my insult) Alor’ika - little leader Utreekov - fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)

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a/n two: They both think the other person’s voice sounds like pure honey.. 🥺

also we need more Paz x reader content on Tumblr my dudes.

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Taglist: @wandsmith 💖

#paz vizsla #Paz Vizsla x reader #paz x reader #the mandalorian #soft!paz #mandalorian x reader #angst

211 notes · View notes

ashleyswrittenwords · 3 years ago

Text

Common Thieves

Short WIP of rewritten scenes from a certain Disney movie and adding Zelda because I’m an adult so, no, you can’t stop me.

I sat on this one for too long... time to let it out into the pasture.

Common Thieves

A trio of carriages rolled passed a sign reading: “East Necluda”. Underneath the letters were etched markings that indicated three miles before the region border. The entourage of soldiers accompanying them lit up the night around them.

The trail hadn’t been maintained in several years, a testament to the rural inhabitants and the reputation the road had built in the recent months. Still, the party pushed onward steadily – even as the sun slowly abandoned them. Lines of guards walked along with the first carriage with a several mules hauling oversized trunks.

Days of traveling brought a silence over the men and ripped any urge to paint their boredom with banter. Other the occasional curt direction to the work animals, the only noises either came from their marching or the muffled conversation in the vehicles they surrounded.

“Does it look like I am a mere peasant?” a vibrant hiss came through the first caravan – it was decorated with Gerudo drapes of rich color, shimmering even in the darkness.

Inside, the weary looking fellow with his helmet resting on his hip flinched as the hisser sneered.

“Of course not, Your Highness,” he spoke fast, “I only mean to inform His Highness that we passed the last town two hours ago and in order for His Highness to rest it would entail putting up camp.”

“Putting up camp?!” the larger of the men reared back. His gold-laced fingers gripped the chair. “Absolutely not. I will not be treated like some poor panhandler on the side of the road. We will ride through the night.”

The guard paused for a short moment, shrinking at the gaze he received before bowing his head. “At your word, My Lord.”

Another man, skinnier than the lot, appeared beside the superior and stared with the wide eyes of admonishment. His words were spoken quick and high-pitched, “Do you have any idea who you are addressing?”

“I-” the guard looked between the two with uncertainty.

“Why, the Royal Advisor Ganondorf Dragmire. ‘Lordship’ doesn’t shine a match to the nature of his reputation!” he gasped and held his book of notes closely while making grandiose gestures. Loose papers fluttered to the caravan floor. “He has proved himself to be above such title! Illustrious is he, respectable is he, most honorable – absolutely, and not to forget how handsome is he--”

The royal advisor patted his acquaintance on the shoulder with more force than necessary and smiled chivalrously. “Never mind that, sergeant. We will ride through the night.”

The sergeant cleared his throat, “Yes, Your… Highness.”

As he exited the moving carriage, the flaps closed behind him and through them had commenced a series of muffled arguments that had become the norm during marches.

Another armor-clad man reared his horse beside the sergeant with another horse in tow.

“Well? What does he want to do?”

The sergeant scratched his red beard and let out the sigh that was building in his chest, then took his horse’s reigns with short words of thanks.

His partner raised his brow, “That bad, huh?”

“Gods, I don’t want to hear it Kriss. Inform the lads that we we’re riding straight to Hateno.”

When he spoke, he tried to copy the intimidating scowl of the royal advisor but his compatriot still grumbled with annoyance as he twisted his horse in the opposite direction.

Their travels matched the demeanor of wartimes, and though they technically were, this party wasn’t avoiding frequent rests for the sake of catching the enemy and nor was their pacing any faster with the amount of luggage they hauled. It was well known through the garrison that this was the equivalence to a royal tour and it should be treated as such – yet no one spoke it above a whisper.

“Sir!”

It was a younger man, barely out of boyhood. He was scraggly, even his stance was uneven when he drew his heels together for a salute. The boy faltered in the process as his ill-fitting armor rattled from the movements. The sergeant withheld an eye-roll, lazing over his saddle to give the kid a forlorn look.

“What is it, Short-Stack?”

“There’s a traveler coming towards us,” he swallowed nervously, gesturing vaguely ahead. “What should we do?”

Momentarily, he looked up at the partially starry sky and sighed once more. “Well, does he look like he’s armed? Dangerous at any degree? Use common sense, son. The last time it was another fur trader.”

Short-Stack fiddled with his gloves and spoke with varying degrees of confidence. “Um, no sir. Sir, it appears to be a woman and-and we haven’t encountered one and I was wondering what the procedures were and--”

“A woman?” the sergeant blinked, promptly ignoring anything more the boy had to say.

His eyes flickered to the dulling sky and motioned his horse to approach the head of the party. As he did, the snickering of those walking ahead abruptly ended. About one-hundred yards away was a cloaked woman, so unmistakably feminine that the sergeant had to do a double take.

Her approach only emphasized what they say from far away. Though she was dressed modestly, it was obvious to any man that she was well-endowed. In her hands was a glowing, recently lit lantern that swayed playfully with her hips.

“Hello, boys!” she called out, giggling afterward and pulled her cloak closer to herself.

The men around the sergeant whispered excitedly and he gave a hard stare to them before straightening in his saddle and trotting in front of the group because, after all, he was the sergeant. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this woman-traveler couldn’t be in some state of concern.

She paused as he approached and blinked owlishly up at him.

“Madam,” he said, dipping his head slightly, “It’s getting rather late, can I ask what you’re doing out at such a time?”

The woman made a noise of surprise and looked over her shoulder as if the sun had snuck passed her. “Oh dear…” she pouted, “I knew I should have left earlier. Why, I was hoping to reach the next inn by sundown!”

“The next inn is two hours minimum on foot,” he recounted with astonishment. Then, pretended to think. “It just happens, my lady, that I am the leader of this particular garrison.”

She gaped, “Is that so? That’s most impressive, sir! Whose company are you escorting this fine evening?”

A smile crept up his face and he nodded smugly. “The Royal Advisor and a few members of His Majesty’s court.”

“Is that right?” she nodded, coming to terms with his words. “I suppose I must be on my way, then. I wouldn’t dare impose on His Lordship.”

A shout of outrage sounded behind the sergeant and he stiffened at the realization of his mistake.

The royal advisor had a distinct voice that shouted without needing to raise his voice. His assistant clambering out of the stopped carriage with much difficulty. Before the opening closed, Dragmire voiced his complaints without abandon.

“Sergeant! Ghirahim, I want his head or it will be yours, by the gods--” The rest of his sentence was muffled as the thin man left him.

The one named Ghirahim hurried to slick back his white hair and scrambled to the front of the carriage. He first gave the horses a wary look before turning his attention to what was impeding them. With a fit of outrage bubbling, he stopped himself mid-word to address the woman.

“And just who are you?” Ghirahim seethed. She went to explain only to be interrupted by his flailing hands. “Actually, you are irrelevant. No matter of concern to the given issue at foot. Sergeant-!”

Then, the woman gasped.

“Is that not the royal advisor to His Majesty?” she covered her mouth daintily, looking past Ghirahim.

The sergeant nearly jumped out of his saddle at the sudden presence of the man, who seemed set on a fit of rage and decidedly settling to a curious indifference at his impediment. The woman pushed by Ghirahim and gave a small curtsy.

The royal advisor didn’t look at the sergeant when he addressed him. “Who is this?”

“A woman, Your Highness.”

He scowled heavily in his direction, “I know that. I meant who she is!”

“Franny, My Lord!” she spoke with excitement, ignoring the assistant’s gawking expression. Franny dipped into a curtsy. “It is quite the honor to be in your esteemed presence Lord Ganondorf. You’re held in such high favor around these parts, as I’m sure you know.”

Ghirahim attempted to cut through while maintaining a concentrated glare. “How dare you grace His Highness with your impertinence!”

The advisor smiled, not taking his eyes off the woman. “Am I now? It is unsurprising, however I do enjoy hearing it from your lips.”

“Sir,” Franny giggled, “If I’m not being too impertinent. Between you and I, I am in the business of telling one’s future. You see, I know now that this must be of the goddess’s divine will to have us meet!”

The assistant blanched. “Absolutely not! Your Highness, I beseech you to ignore this wickedness.”

“You will beseech me to do none of the sort,” Ganondorf dropped his grin momentarily to wave away the smaller man. “Do forgive this man’s ignorance. I must admit, you have me captivated.”

Again, she laughed and took his awaiting arm. Before the advisor led her away, she pushed her lantern into the assistance chest without another thought of his boiling anger. Ghirahim huffed and moved to follow them with his tail between his legs.

“Sergeant,” he bidded coldly.

The trio disappeared into the caravan and immediately the officer frowned.

Something was off, surely.

“Sergeant?�� a dainty voice called out. His attention was immediate. An unmistakable face stared back at him with a quizzical brow. “Why have we stopped?”

“A short reprieve, Lady Zelda,” he smiled, nodding her way. The lady was halfway down her caravan’s steps when she called to him. Her kindness was appreciated and the sergeant wasn’t about to anger her by blubbering that they were held up because of His Lordship.

She hesitated outside her caravan, opting to watch the stars instead of retiring once more. The sergeant took a moment to watch her idle; she was a beautiful, youthful, and owning every bit of the curiosity that came with those traits. Her father was right to keep an eye on her, he thought to himself.

Some minutes went by and the men began snickering when noises began coming from the royal advisor’s carriage. Disgusted, the sergeant ordered them away while suddenly realizing the promiscuity that may have been outlining that woman’s proposition.

But the noises grew louder that even he couldn’t keep his eyes off the vehicle’s abhorrent jostling and reprimanded the few that stayed behind it. After all, he wasn’t entirely foolish – who knows what the advisor would do if rumors were milled around.

A few more minutes and – wait wasn’t the assistant in there as well?

“Guards!” a shrill voice screamed.

From behind the caravan ran a rather large form. It spooked the sergeant’s horse and from there all hell broke loose. The officer could hardly gather his bearings. The men around him stared with wide eyes at the carriages and then back to the sergeant with dumb idle.

“Gods, damn it all – GUARDS!”

Blearily, the officer began shouting orders and like ants the men were clambering into the wagon. The driver hurried to calm the horses amongst the scurry, especially when several men in armor ran into the forest. The sergeant dismounted quickly to find the royal advisor and his assistant bound by their feet and hands, left only in their underclothes.

“Don’t look!” Ganondorf screamed as Ghirahim blubbered incoherently on his side. “Do not look at me!”

The sergeant stood aghast. The cabin was scraped clean – from the gold trim of the windows to the velvet pillows – all had been taken. Most egregiously, the trunks of Akkala long coats had been taken as well and were being mourned over in low sniffling.

“We’ve been,” Ghirahim sobbed through short breathes before continuing, “We’ve been robbed! Robbed! Your Highness!”

“Shut up and stop crying, you imbecile!”

The rest of the evening hours were the longest the sergeant had ever lived through. The woman, who had evidently turned out to be a man, was far gone by the time patrols began. It was also said he was accompanied by a Goron with the strength of eight men, but he hadn’t believed it until the wanted posters were found when they arrived in Hateno.

The illustrations were pinned throughout town on every surface the royal guard could find at the insistence of the royal advisor. Those blue eyes were unmistakable from that night, though the green cap had been absent, and the scowling Goron bandit beside him matched up with his men’s description perfectly.

That had been the royal advisor’s first encounter with the renowned outlaw Link Woods.

#uh yeah robin hood au #ever heard of it?#loz #legend of zelda #loz au #robin hood au #common thieves #link #zelda #daruk #ganondorf #ghirahim #zelink #it's in there somewhere #ashleyswrittenwords

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sweetchup · 4 years ago

Text

Little Fish; Big Fish

Type: Rin Obami x reader

Au?: None

Word Count: About 10,000 words

Warnings: Don’t think I need to say this but just in case, Yumeko and Kirari (Enough said). (This is also Kakegurui so everyone is a little bit insane)

Author note: Why is it always the smiley and soft looking boys that are actually bad guys that I simp for? Someone help.

“Are you nervous?”

Kirari's powerful voice resounds throughout the empty student council room and catches you off guard. At her sudden question, or rather statement, you can’t help but notice that your hands, that were holding your cards, were in fact shaking.

Ever so slightly, you begin to loosen the grip you had on the cards, hoping (practically praying at this point) to stop the shaking. Though, it was a futile attempt in the end as you still had ever so slight small twitches throughout your whole body that gave you away.

How did you get in this mess?

That’s the question you have been asking yourself ever since you got Kirari’s gamble invitation. One, you still haven’t understood why she would give you in the first place. After all, you weren’t rich. Not even in the slightest way. Both of your parents had normal office jobs and the only reason you had even got accepted into this school was due to your grandfather having worked here as a teacher in the past.

There was also the fact you didn’t gamble. Though, it wasn’t just because you couldn’t, it was also because you weren’t interested. The chips used in betting were often millions of yen anyways and you didn’t feel the joy of ending up in debt for the rest of your life. At the very least however, you understood why so many flocked to the thrill of gambling. The many times you ran into Yumeko Jabami and were roped into watching her nonsense with her gang of friends proved that.

But still…., even with being friends with Yumeko Jabami, you were still utterly nothing. Just someone that adorned the school halls. A wallflower that had somehow, through some unknown luck, has avoided becoming a housepet. So, just why were you here. It made no—

The sudden noise of Kirari placing her cards down on the table snaps you out of your thoughts. For the first time since you arrived, you finally gain the courage to glance at her face.

With her electric blue eyes that almost seemed to glow and a small, ever so slightly, smile that graced her also blue lips, you can’t help but gulp. You knew what was about to happen wasn’t good.

“(Y/n) (l/n). That’s who you are, right?” Kirari inquires, leaning back in her chair slightly as she turns her attention to the massive fish tank in the room. “You are the eldest daughter and only child of your (l/n) family name. With most of your family being mere pawns of larger companies. Honestly, your income is hardly a cent compared to other students at our school.”

You bite the edge of your lip slightly. It was the truth but you wished she didn’t have to spell it out so bluntly.

“Yet,...” Kirari turns her gaze back to you, “You still have lasted longer, even better, than others at this school. I wonder how...”

As she finishes her sentence, Kirari reaches over to examine a small box of traditional Japanese sweets. A box she had won off of you in the last round. Even though she had frazed her last sentence as a question, you could tell she already knew her own answer.

“I will admit, the strategy you have come up with to survive is actually incredibly smart. If you are ever forced to gamble, you bet these sweets you bought from some commoner’s shop. Since most students here don't know the price of average items, They over bet what the equivalent price is. Letting you have quite the side profit when you do happen to win.”

“Ah yes… it’s really all I can afford…” You say, letting out a small chuckle at the end in hopes of lightening the room. Which thankfully, on your end, does as Kirari laughs along as well.

“You know... I have something that could possibly help with that ‘wealth problem’ of yours.“

Caught off guard by her sudden statement, you looked at her bewildered.

“What do you mean by that?” You say in an unsure light filled tone, hoping she was just joking.

“Well, I heard from—“

However, before Kirari could finish what she was proposing, the student council doors open with a loud bang. Startling you so much you almost drop your cards. However, Kirari does not even flinch in the slightest. Almost as if she expected that to happen.

“Hello (y/n)!!” Yumi shouts out to you as she pushes Terano into the room along with Ibara following in tow. Once the pinked hair male notices you, he quickly walks, more like runs, over to your side.

“You didn’t lose anything right?” Ibara asks as he peers down at the table of cards. He must have noticed you were gone from morning classes today and had searched to come find you.

“A-ah nothing big. Just two boxes of candy.” You tell your classmate and friend as he checks your bag. Though, your answer doesn’t seem to reassure him in any way.

“I think that’s enough betting for today. Let’s go, break is about to end anyways.” Ibara states as he practically tries to drag you out of your seat.

“O-ok. Well, I better get going then. Thanks for the small game Kirari.” You say, giving the president a small bow as you stand and proceed to grab your bag.

“(Y/n),” You pause at what you are doing when you suddenly feel a hand scooping your cheek, looking up you see Kirari leaning over at the table. “If you want to hear the rest of my proposal, come stop by.”

Almost in a trance, perhaps it was her angelic looks that caused it, you can’t help but nod.

“Good. I will await for your arrival—“

“Kirari,” Kirari is once again cut off as Terano speaks. The two stare at each other, almost as if they are exchanging in some sort of conversation. You can’t tell what was being said but you noticed the atmosphere of the room had grown rather tense.

“Let’s leave…,” Ibara whispers in your ear as he gives your arm a light tug.

“Ok…” You give Terano a small bow and smile in thanks before you leave the room with Ibara. As the door finally closes with a loud thud, Terano lets out a heavy sigh.

“Can’t you for once in your life not treat something as some sort of gamble?”

Kirari can’t help but raise an eyebrow at Terano’s bold statement. It seemed she was right about the fact the other family members have grown attached to (y/n) as well.

“Well, it would be rather boring to watch on the sidelines.” Kirari says as she looks over to her fish tank. Just as she does so, two fishes appear, one big and one small. Even though there was a major difference in size, they weren’t hostile to each other and were actually being careful to not swim too far away from the other. “Rin Obami is painfully obviously in love with (y/n) (l/n) and I have a small hunch she does as well. Yet, neither has confessed and the slow game they are playing is starting to get rather boring. So, I just felt the need to spice things up a little.”

Suddenly, in the tank, another big fish appears and it is heading straight towards the smaller fish. It clearly plans to devour it.

“Still that isn’t your place to interfere.” Terano states pulling Kirari's attention away from the tank. Kirari watches as the girl before her suddenly scoffs, “What am I even saying… you don’t listen to logic anyways. I’m leaving, let’s go Yumi.”

“Okay Terano!”

As the two exit the room, Kirari stares at the closed door for a couple of seconds before turning her attention back to the tank. As she looks, she can’t find the three fish anymore and wonders what happened to them when she looked away. Was the small fish swallowed? Or did it perhaps run far away, leaving the bigger fish side?

Kirari can’t help but bite the edge of her nail in excitement as a sudden new thought comes across her mind.

Maybe…., both ended up being devoured. With the bigger fish attempting to save his smaller friend but failing and both perishing.

Kirari licks her lips as she walks over and presses herself up against the glass. Even in the off chance both of the fish did survive, it was only inevitable that another predator would soon pop up to try to devour the smaller fish again.

“Don’t get devoured so soon (y/n)... I wanna see you and Rin swim around more. Just struggling to stay alive.”

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

“Come on (y/n)! Can’t you tell me what Kirari proposed to you?” Ibara groans as he opens the door to your classroom. Most of the students of the Botan Class were already back from break and had already taken their seats.

“As I said before, I didn’t hear the full thing. Just that she wanted to help with my ‘wealth’ problem.”

After hearing Ibara let out another groan, you decide to just leave his side and walk back to your seat instead. You knew Ibara would still continue to press into you until you told Sumika, or Kawaru, to prove to him you were in fact telling the truth.

“(Y-y/n),” At the call of your name, you tilt your head up to see three of your female classmates standing near your desk. “Did you really get challenged by the President?”

“Hmm? Oh…” You take a glance to look at Ibara, who was two rows away, watching your conversation as well. Knowing that, you felt completely safe to tell the girls the truth, “I did actually. See?”

You pull out the invitation you got this morning to show the girls. As they excitedly go on to ask you questions, you can’t help but feel thankful that Ibara, and actually the rest of the “-Bami” branch families, transferred to Hyakkaou Private Academy.

Before they came, you weren’t treated as bad as a housepet but you were still looked down upon by many of your classmates. The only thing that stopped you from being bullied was your friendly gambles that kept your classmates excited for the next treat you could possibly bring in.

It was actually one of those friendly gambles that caused you to meet Rin and Ibara Obami, who had just transferred into your class, in the first place. Rin had actually thought that, based on your game, you were also from a swindler family. You didn’t quite get what he meant at the time (you actually felt slightly offended at the comment and yelled at him for it). But you soon understood what he was getting at when only a day later, a group of guys offered you way too much money and gifts for a haul of those treats.

Later that day, you begrudgingly apologized to Rin and, eventually over time, became friends with him and the rest of the “-Bami”s.

“Now, now ladies. I’m sure (y/n) can answer all of your questions later.” Speaking of the devil himself, you watch Rin take his seat right next to yours.

“O-ok Rin-sama.” You hold back a scoff as the girls run off, whispering and giggling amongst themselves. Even you, who doesn’t know how to swindle, noticed that Rin has only been buttering them up to use them as pawns later.

“So, (y/n),” Rin starts as he leans a little back in his chair and glances at you, “What happened with you and Kirari?”

“Ah. I’m actually not quite sure. I suddenly got this gamble invitation from her this morning and I know I definitely didn’t do anything recently to grab her attention.” You pick up the invitation to hand it off to Rin, slightly tensing as your fingers accidentally brush his.

Not now (y/n). You told yourself you wouldn’t.

One important thing that you have been trying to deal with recently, other than the chaos of this election of course, is your growing crush on Rin Obami. You tried to stomp it out when it first bloomed up, after all you were falling in love with one of the heirs of the famous Hundred Devouring Families, but that ended up failing... horribly.

After you tried to avoid Rin, and even Ibara eventually, the boys switched to being only hanging out with you in class to basically being by your side every single chance they got. Especially Rin, who even forced you to accompany him when he went to chat or discuss business with the other branch family members at the school.

Which is actually how you eventually became close to Terano and the others.

“How did the match go however?” Rin asks, handing the card back to you with a serious look.

“I didn’t get that far into the match before Terano and Ibara came in. We only got to two rounds, which I lost both to Kirari. However, she thankfully let me bet my sweets so I lost no money.”

“Well that’s good…” Rin says, his eyes quickly flickering to somewhere else in the room before going back to you, “Anything else happen?”

You let out a light laugh before looking up to the male with challenging eyes, “I don’t think I need to say something you already got from Ibara, Obami.”

Rin lets out a sigh and pouts a little, “Why do you always see right through me, (y/n)? And, calling me by my last name, Really?”

“Well, you and Ibara need to stop pressing into me about information that doesn’t exist. I already told everything that happened.”

After you finish speaking, Rin and you stare at each other for a couple of minutes. His blackish-purple eyes scanning for any detections of a lie almost makes you flustered. Though, thankfully before heat starts to travel up your neck, your teacher enters the room and shouts about class starting.

“Yes, Sensei!” The class resounds in unison.

As you lean down to grab out your notes for class, you feel Rin suddenly grab your hand. With Rin leaning over as well to grab his own notes, both of your heads were hidden under the desk. Helplessly, due to a firm grip on your hand, you can’t attempt to move away.

“(Y/n). If Kirari, or actually any the student council, approaches you about that offer again. Promise me that you will instantly come grab me or any of the others.”

Under Rin’s intense look, you can’t help but gulp. Why was he so nervous about you?

“I-I will try…“ You say quickly, averting your eyes from Rin as you use your other hand to pull out your notes. Even as you come back up to a sitting position, Rin still doesn’t let go of your hand.

“(Y/n). I want you to promise me you will definitely come grab us. I don’t want—“

“Obami. (L/n).” The teacher calls out, making you two snap your head to him. As well as making you realize everyone else in the class had been watching what was going on between you two. “I don’t think I have to say this but keep your relationship and hand holding out of my class.”

Hearing snickers and giggles from your fellow classmates, you quickly retract your hand from Rin’s and mumble out an apology.

“Ok. Then, with that squared away, let’s get started with class. We will begin where we left off last time with the sudden…”

As the teacher drones on and on about some history lesson from yesterday, you can’t help but sneak a glance at Rin. To everyone else in the class, he likely looked calmed and focused but you knew he wasn’t. Hell, from where you were next to him, you could practically feel the stress radiating off of him.

You knew the Hundred Devouring Families wasn't a nice family to be in but was Kirari really that dangerous? You knew she was really dangerous to someone average like you but to someone like Rin? Even if he was a branch family, he had a lot of power and money. Likely at least close, if not on par with Kirari.

Still, no matter what you thought, Rin was still stressed out that you were on Kirari’s radar.

Glancing away from Rin, you see the teacher was currently occupied with writing something on the board and the rest of the students weren’t paying any attention to you two whatsoever. However, even with them being distracted, if you tried to talk to Rin and got even the slightest bit too loud you could gain someone’s attention. So, how would you get his attention without interrupting class…

Thinking for a couple of minutes, an idea suddenly comes to your mind.

Shakily, you slip a hand down to your side and move it around a little. You can’t help but feel your stomach flutter when your hand accidently nudges against Rin’s. Which only grows worse as you can almost physically feel Rin’s attention shift from the board towards you.

Letting out a shaky breath, which you hoped Rin didn’t notice, you lightly enrap your hand around his.

“I’ll try to come grab one of you guys. I-It’s just I’m not exactly in a position to refuse someone as powerful as Kirari ....” You whisper out, your eyes still trained on the board as you can’t bring up the courage to look over at him.

You sit there tensely for what felt like forever, waiting for some sort of response. Perhaps your voice was too soft and he didn’t hear you?

However, just as you go to repeat yourself, you nearly end up choking on your own spit. The sudden feeling of Rin entwining his fingers with yours and placing your enwrapped hands in his jacket pocket so no one would notice, sent your heart into a frenzy and you were having a very hard time not melting on the spot right then and there.

Just as you think it couldn’t get any possibly worse for you it does. Your heart nearly explodes out of your chest as Rin casually leans closer to you so he can whisper in your ear. You could even, from how close he was, smell a hint of the expensive cologne he put on every day.

“Okay. I’ll stick by your side from now on then.” Rin whispers quickly, his breath ever so slightly tickling the shell of your ear, before sitting back into a normal position.

You are about to respond how that wasn’t needed in the slightest but before you can the teacher turns back around.

“Okay. So, to review…” The teacher looks around the class before finally stopping at you, “...(L/n).”

“Y-yes,” You squeak out, quickly trying to remove your hand from Rin’s before the teacher notices. However, as you attempt to do so, Rin only tightens his grip. Not enough to hurt, but definitely enough so you couldn’t possibly slip your hand out of his without creating a scene.

You give Rin a quick glare, which he of course responds with a smile, before turning your attention back to the teacher as he continues.

“What does Edo mean?” The teacher asks, leaning slightly back against the board.

“Well Sir, Edo could refer to two possible things. The first being the time period named after it, the Edo Period. This was when Japan was under the rule of the Tokugawa Shogunate. However, Edo could also mean—“

You suddenly choke up as you feel Rin adjust his grip so he can rub his thumb over the back of your hand. Even though it was such a small, almost trivial, gesture, it caused your brain to go blank. Almost as if it had fried itself.

“U-uh…” You jumble up your words for a couple of seconds before finally composing yourself, “E-Edo could also refer to the previous Japanese Capital, that was called ‘Edo’ before it got changed to ‘Tokyo’ in 1-1868…”

“Excellent! So, Can anybody tell me the name of that Shogunate from the Edo Period?“

As the Teacher turns around to write the answers down on the board, you turn your attention back to Rin, who looked quite proud of himself.

“What’s wrong (y/n)? Flustered much?” Rin whispered out, Jokingly yet also quite mischievously. You swore,

If ‘sadist’ had a picture in the Urban dictionary, it would be a picture of Rin Obami. Especially due to the fact, he took great joy from just messing with you, or sometimes other people.

“It’s your fault, dingbat. Are you trying to get us caught?”

“I doubt we would. I mean look at Ibara, even he hasn’t caught on yet.”

At Rin’s words you swing your head around to take a glance at Ibara. The pink haired brother looked bored out of his mind and only lightened up a little when he noticed your gaze on him. He gives you a small unaware wave in your direction which you return quickly before turning back around.

“Fine, I’ll admit you're correct by that.” You tell him, begrudgingly which he lightly laughs at.

“See~ don’t worry about it.” Rin mutters back and gives you a small wink before turning his attention back to the lesson. Which, after huffing for a second, you soon do as well.

You just wished he would quit messing around with stuff like this…

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

“Oh? What’s going on with you and—“

“Don’t ask.” You mutter out, cutting off whatever Yumeko was going to say as you take a seat next to her for dinner. Still slightly flustered at the fact, Rin insisted he held your hand the entire walk to dinner even though that bastard wasn’t actually having dinner in the dining hall in the first place.

Terano had told him that she wanted a meeting with branch family members only. But, due to his promise in history class, he insisted on at least walking you to dinner if he couldn’t join you. Which you can’t believe he actually did as it was incredibly embarrassing to see your classmates whispering and making kissy faces at you two.

“But, come on (y/n)~ You have to at least tell us what’s going on with you and Rin. We are friends aren’t we?” Yumeko whines, really wanting to know what’s happening.

“Or, at the very least, tell us about what happened between you and the President.” Mary suddenly says as she takes her seat on the other side of you.

“Oh yeah, I heard many people whispering about it in the classroom! I thought it was only a rumor? Well I hoped it was for your sake…” Ryota murmurs out, recalling what he heard before he left for dinner with Yumeko.

Speaking of Yumeko, Ryota noticed her suddenly getting very excited at the thought of the President. Quickly, she grabs your hands, her red crazed staring down at you.

“Oh, (y/n)! Please tell me it was true! I want to hear everything, everything, that happened at that gamble!”

“Well… Um… it wasn’t actually that exciting. I only—“ Just as you go to tell Yumeko what happened, your phone suddenly goes off. “Oh sorry guys, it’s my mom. I’ll be back.”

Quickly excusing yourself from the cafeteria, you answer your phone out in the empty hallway.

“Hello? Mom?“

“O-oh (y/n)! I-I-I’m so sorry!” You can’t help but be shocked as you hear the hiccuping of your mother from the other end.

“Mom? Are you alright? W-what’s wrong? Did something happen?” You worriedly asked. You’ve never, ever, seen your mother get so upset before.

“I-I just found out your father has been cheating on me for years. He actually has a whole-e-e secret family behind our back.” Your mother pauses her sentence as she tries to compose herself from another sob racking through her body.

“O-oh Mom,” You feel terrible yourself. That was your father, of course, and you couldn’t believe he would do something like that to you and your family. “I-If you want, you can call the school and I can get the quickest train home. I might miss class tomorrow but I can at least help you through this!”

“T-Thank you, Honey… but I’m afraid that you can’t.” You are stunned for a second. What did she mean you couldn’t, you could easily make up any missing classwork and homework you would miss.

“Mom what—“ A wretched sob from your mother on the other end of the phone cuts you off.

“B-before your father left, he took out every last cent of our savings-s. We have nothing left and I have to still wait for my paycheck next week!”

Your ears begin to ring as you attempt to process the tumble of words out of your mother’s mouth. You couldn’t quite believe it. You actually didn’t want to believe it and hoped this was some nightmare that you would wake up out of. Everything? All that money your family worked for… was really gone?

“(Y-y/n) sweetie?” Your mother suddenly calls, breaking you out of your daze.

“Y-yes mom?”

“I know this is a lot to ask, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to—“

“Mom I’ll do it! Don’t worry about me!” You quickly reassure, ready to help take off any burden on your mother.

“O-okay. If possible, could you ask one of your friends if we can take out a loan of their money? We just need some to pay for rent and bills for a while and I will instantly try to pay them back.” As your mother finishes explaining the rest, you can’t help but be silent for a couple of minutes. Your brain was racking with any possible other ideas before you finally gave up and answered.

“Y-yeah I’ll try to see what I can do.” As your mother hangs up, you can’t help but collapse to the floor.

A loan from a friend? That your family can pay back? That would be impossible. Your father made a ton more money than your mother and was essentially the main breadwinner of the family. It would take at least a year, maybe even two, for you and your mother to get back on your feet. You can’t afford to pay back that much debt and can’t afford to ask your closest friends to support you for that long. That would just be so wrong… but, you also didn’t know what else you could do.

“You know... I have something that could possibly help with that ‘wealth problem’ of yours.“

Kirari… you could ask Kirari! You didn’t want to but she had already offered you money or financial stability and it was way better than putting your friends in that position. Her offer might also be good enough that your mother and you could get out of the old nasty apartment you rent.

As you get to your feet and are about to try and make your way down the hall, you feel someone grab your arm.

“A-ah. E-Erimi, Sumika. H-hello, how are you?” You can’t help but gulp. You weren’t paying attention to your surroundings while on that phone call, so they possibly could have heard all of it.

“(Y/n)-San, I apologize but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.” You freeze at Sumika’s words, “I hope I’m wrong by this but please tell me you're not thinking of going to Kirari about this.”

Shit, Sumika always got it right on the dot when it came to you.

“I-I’m not. I’m just going to try to find Itsuki.” You murmur out, trying to lie even though it was futile. Curse Sumika’s acting and reading skills.

“(Y/n). Please don’t lie about things like this.” Sumika says in a worried tone. However, you can’t bring yourself to continue the conversation you were having with her. Already you were embarrassed enough that this was happening to you in the first place, but it only got worse that likely the “-Bami” family will have to help you again. It mostly made you feel bad since you can’t do anything to repay them for their kindness.

“Sumika, Please I need to do this. I’ll be fine.” You reassure the girl in front of you, lightly grabbing her hand that was wrapped around your wrist, trying to pry it off.

“(Y/n), No. …Erimi!”

Erimi, who was standing on the side worriedly about what was happening, instantly turned to Sumika.

“Erimi, please go grab Terano-san and Rin-san. Please… quickly!” You instantly freeze as you watch Erimi nod before quickly running off and disappearing down the hall. You can’t get Terano and Rin involved. Those two need to save every cent of their money to help buy leftover votes nearing the end of the election. You can’t possibly have them waste all their hard work on you, not after they have been working so hard for it.

… You just can’t afford to be the cause of crushing Rin’s dream like that. You know how much being head of the “-Bami” family meant to him.

“S-Sumika please, I beg of you. Don’t get Rin involved, you know he needs as much money as he can for this election! I will only stand in his way if he helps support me. Please, just le—“

“(Y-y/n),” You can’t help but gasp and freeze as you see a tear roll down Sumika’s cheek. “D-do you really see yourself as a burden to Rin? To us?”

You suck in a breath, ready to answer back but find yourself unable to. Your stomach felt like it was twisted into so many knots that you were about to puke.

Using her free hand, Sumika wipes away her tears and takes a deep calming breath before continuing, “(Y/n), Please don’t think so low of yourself. We all care for you and have never seen you as a burden. Especially Rin. He would feel so guilty if he didn’t help you out in a desperate situation like this. All of us would. I don’t have the right to say this but Rin—“

“Oh my god. Is that Kawaru Natari?”

“Ah! I think it is!”

Suddenly, Sumika’s grip on your hand disappears as you are pushed away by a group of her fans. Even though Sumika is trying to find and call out your name, none of the fans seem to know or care about what’s going on with her. All they care about is trying to get her autograph or at least shake her hand.

Stumbling to your feet, you take a glance at Sumika who was still encircled in her fans. The bubbling feeling of guilt lumps up in your throat as you think… No, you decided about what you should do.

“Sorry Sumika…” You murmur to yourself as you run down the hallway and to the stairs. You had no time to waste because Erimi has likely already notified the others of what is happening.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

“I-is this the room?” You ask Kirari, taking a look around as you enter a giant room you have never been in. It looked like any other formal dining hall with many white clothed tables decorating the room.

“Yes. After all, you said the others are searching for us and this will likely be the last place they will check,” Kirari says as she walks over and places a bunch of paper packets on the central table, “Let’s get started shall we?”

“Y-yes of course. But first, What is your offer?”

“It’s a thing I like to call a ‘Life Plan’.” Kirari explains, picking up one of the fancy packets to show you. As you flip through it, she continues, “As the name suggests, it’s a plan of your entire happy life. Usually, I give these to House Pets who have no hope of getting out of their debt, but I believe it has the ability to benefit you as well.”

“R-really?” You mutter out, slightly disgusted by the fact this packet says you will marry a 50 year old politician and have 5 children with him, “A-ah!”

You are startled as Kirari plucks the packet out of your hand and suddenly rips it apart, “Don’t worry that one wasn’t for you. Since you are close with my extended family, I have taken much care in picking the best bachelors… that are also around your age.”

“O-oh really? Thanks Kirari,” You tell Kirari relieved, flashing her a thankful smile. Well as thankful as you could. Your heart felt like it was slowly shattering at the thought you were essentially selling yourself off to someone you don’t even know.

Rin…

You quickly shake the thought of Rin out of your mind. You can’t think of him right now, you had to do this for your family. He was your friend, so he should understand. And eventually, though slowly and painfully, that silly crush you have on him will disappear.

However, the more you repeat that to yourself, it sounds like you were just desperately trying to convince yourself of that.

As you begin to walk with Kirari to the table, you speak again, “Are there any of these you specifically want me to start reading first?”

“Well…,” You watch as Kirari pulls out a deck of cards from her pocket, “I think it would be so boring to pick it out normally. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“W-well… I don’t exactly agree. I prefer—“

“(Y/n)!? (Y/n)!? Where are you?!”

“Ibara?” You whisper out, startled as you turn around to the door behind you. After a couple of minutes of more shouting, you see the knob of the door shake, “(y/n)? Are you in there?!”

“Uh—“

You freeze as you feel Kirari wrap her arms around your waist from behind. “Come on, let’s hurry (y/n). They haven’t noticed us yet but we have no time to waste. They could possibly come interrupt us at any time…. and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

As you feel Kirari’s words sink in, you realize you had to get this done with, rather quickly as well. Meaning, it would take too much time to look through each individual packet, “No…I wouldn’t want that…”

“Good… Come, I’ll explain the game. It’s rather simple.”

You, almost in a trance like state, watch as Kirari shuffles the deck of cards and place them randomly over the table.

“You will slowly pick the cards one by one until a single one remains. Each card represents the matching life plan it is attached to.”

“It’s a fun game of fate!” Confused by the sudden new voice, you see Yumeko entering from the other side of the room from another door. As Yumeko makes her way in front of you, she instantly wraps her hands around yours before speaking again, “Oh (y/n), it will be so much fun! You have to play!!”

“W-what…? I mean, I already am. I have to after all.” You inform the girl, pulling your hands from hers to make your way to the table. You, at first, are shocked that she wanted you to continue but soon realize this was Yumeko Jabami. She was mentally insane and if she could, she would happily switch places with you instantly.

Hesitantly, after shaking your thoughts out of your head, you begin to pick up cards to get rid of. No real pattern in mind.

“(Y/n), be careful not to go too fast. You have to enjoy the process!” Yumeko exclaims, watching intently as you already give Kirari half of the deck that you have collected. “Unless, you are really just leaving it up to fate and luck…? Oh, that would be so fun! (Y/n), you really are a genius!”

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)!” You freeze as you hear someone else burst into the room. Nervously turning around, you spot Ibara and Miroslava at the doors. “She’s over here! Ibara quickly, go grab Rin!!”

As Ibara runs off, Miroslava makes her way to your side, “Kirari this gamble is over with! (Y/n) isn’t taking part in this anymore!”

“B-but Mir—“ “I’m pretty sure (y/n) can speak for herself, Miroslava.”

“You manipulative—“

“(Y/n),” As Miroslava bickers with Kirari, you hear Yumeko approach you from behind, “The President wanted me to tell you that if someone tried to interrupt the game, that you can instead just pick a single card from the rest.”

“O-oh Okay…”

As you reach out to grab a random card near you, you can’t help but feel yourself freeze. Why can’t you just grab it?

Almost in disgust you draw the hand back.

“Don’t worry (y/n). You just have to pick the card that calls to you!”

“The card that calls to me?” As you walked around the table, you didn’t understand what Yumeko meant. The card that called to you? But, they were all the same… none of the life plans were exactly what you wanted either.

After circling the table again, finally one of them catches your attention. There wasn’t anything special about it. There were no scratches, chips, or folds that would draw it to you. But, for some reason, you felt like you needed to pick that one.

Shakily, you pick up the card and hold it close to you. You know you should go give this to Kirari to get this over with but you felt rooted in place. Was this the one you chose? Actually,...

Were you making the right choice to begin with?

“Did you choose one (y/n)?” Yumeko asks from somewhere behind you.

“I-I don’t know… T-this…” You feel yourself suddenly getting choked up as you looked down to the card. You didn’t want to be a wife of some random attractive man with a peaceful happy life…

….You suddenly realized you wanted to be Rin’s.

The egotistical smiley boy that you had an enormous crush on. The one that takes every opportunity to find a way to make you flustered or choked up. The boy you now realize isn’t just a helpless crush but instead someone you have fallen head over heels in love with. The boy you likely—

“(Y/n)...” You are shocked as you are suddenly forcibly turned around.

It took you a second to realize it was in fact him with his normally neat hair pushed out of place and his uniform crooked and crinkled but you soon realize, Rin was right in front of you.

“Rin… I—,“ You stop speaking as you feel him shakily wipe a tear off your face. He looked at you with concerned eyes before glaring at the card in your hand. “H-hey. I—“

You can’t do anything but watch as he angrily grabs the card out of your hand and rips it apart. Taking the card scraps, he throws them up in the air towards Kirari.

“I swear… if you EVER come near me or (y/n) again!”

“Rin, calm down.” Miroslava states as she places a hand on Rin’s chest to stop him from approaching Kirari. Who looked quite amused with his unusual reaction. “Just take (y/n) and—“

“Oh, you picked the 2 of hearts Life Plan (y/n)?” Kirari states, trying to rile up Rin more as she picks up the corner scrap of the card. “I don’t believe I remember who that is… perhaps it was the son of a big medical center? He’s only a year older than you and is quite rich and handsome.”

“What the fuck are you going on about?” Rin barks out, confused at what she was talking about. Only to get angrier as Kirari lets out a laugh.

“Here. Why don’t you take a look for yourself?” Kirari states as she chucks one of the packets at his feet. He hesitantly grabs it up from the ground and begins to flip through it as Miroslava and Ibara, who had finally walked up to the two, look over his shoulder.

“What the fuck…” Ibara whispers out in disbelief before reading out loud was written on the page to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, “(Y/n) (L/n) will marry the youngest son of a computer company. She will get pregnant right after her wedding at age 19 and will have her first of 3 sons born that following year…”

Kirari can’t help but laugh as she watches the three’s expressions turn even angrier as they flip further and further into the packet. However, instead of addressing them, Kirari turns her attention to you. Making you feel as if you freezed on the spot from her icy blue eyes, “Come here (y/n). Let’s see what life plan you picked out. I want to see if I’m correct—“

“Oh hell she isn’t—!“

Miroslava and Ibara quickly grab onto Rin as he attempts to stop Kirari from grabbing the 2 of hearts' life plan.

“Rin! You can’t attack her, she’s from the main family remember? We can’t lay a physical finger on her!” Ibara mutters out, trying to remind his brother of the rules set in place by the clan.

“I-I don’t care about that! Let me g—“

“RIN! Enough!” Everyone turns their attention to Terano who was currently being wheeled into the room by Yumi. Even she wasn’t attempting to keep a calm persona as you could clearly see a scowl on her face. “(Y/n) hasn’t accepted the life plan yet so she isn’t obligated to follow it. So, calm down.”

Rin freezes under her words but It’s quiet for a couple of seconds before he finally speaks; in a rather bitter tone as well, “Fine…but you better have a plan in mind, Terano.”

“I do. Don’t worry about it.” Terano answers letting a small sigh out as she finally relaxes, “(y/n).”

You jolt a little as Terano suddenly calls you. However, you can’t bring yourself to look at her in the eyes as she is wheeled closer to you, “(y/n)... look at me please.”

Hesitantly, almost like a child who was scolded, you look at her, “We aren’t mad at you. We just don’t get why you would go through this extreme way of getting money when we could easily let you borrow some. I doubt helping support your mother a little would cost that—”

“T-that’s the thing! It’s not going to be a little, Terano.” You blurt out before quickly shutting up once you realize you cut her off. Terano, however, doesn’t look offended in the least.

“What do you mean (y/n)? Please, continue.”

“W-well, my father not only made most of the money in our family but also protected us since we live in a not so great area. Not only would it take my mother about a year or two to get back on her feet in terms of financial situation but someone could easily just come by and steal the money you give to my family.” You explain to the others in the room who seemed to finally realize what you were getting at.

“But, that wouldn’t cost us that much would it?” Ibara asks, trying to still figure out why it was still a problem.

“Well kind of, the basics (y/n)’s family would need is to buy food, pay bills and rent, and other necessities, which we could pay for. The problem comes with things like having security and perhaps unknown debts made by her father. Those would definitely end up stacking up over time.” Miroslava explains to Ibara, who nods at her in understanding, before she continues, “Which makes sense why she would come to Kirari. Not only did Kirari already offer (y/n) a chance of more money, she offered enough that she guaranteed (y/n)’s family to move up in terms of wealth. So, (y/n) not only could skip asking us to support her but she could possibly move to a new apartment or house in a safer area and skip having to pay the necessities of security.”

“Oh I see…” Ibara says before jolting up as he sees Rin suddenly move forward towards you. He quickly grabs his brother before he can move too far away, “Rin! Let’s have Terano handle this.”

Rin turns around to give Ibara a nasty glare, “Ibara, I’m not going to sit around here and do nothing! The Obami family easily has enough money to move (y/n)’s family out of that bad apartment as well as support them.”

“That’s where you are not thinking Rin.” Miroslava states as she steps in to intervene with the brothers’ conversation. “It might be enough to pay for now but think about what will happen towards the end of the election. All of us, especially you, will need a lot of money to pay for those leftover votes people are holding onto.”

“Yeah but it’s fine. I can—“

“Rin. Miroslava’s right. If we pay too much money and some of the other branch families find out the Obami family is low on money, it could cost us. Likely, we could get devoured.”

“But—“ “Oh my, Fate can’t be funny at times…”

The three stop bickering as they hear Kirari speak suddenly and quickly notice she was flipping through the life plan you had picked up. As Kirari walks over to give it to you, Rin has to grit his teeth to stop himself from attacking her.

“Kirari—“ “You were the one to interrupt our gamble, Terano and for the second time today that is. You know…That could possibly get you in a lot of trouble.” Kirari threatens Terano, giving her a look that told Terano she was done playing silly games.

“Ah please don’t! It was my fault, Kirari.” You voiced up, not wanting the possibility of Terano getting booted out of the election. Thankfully, Kirari seems to listen and turns her attention back to you.

“Okay then, if you truly are sorry (y/n). Then, please accept your life plan.” Kirari tells you, using your own words against you. As she passes the life plan into your shaking hands, Rin can’t hold it in any longer and walks over to you two.

“Kirari! Stop this, now.” Rin says, putting a hand on Kirari’s shoulder. Only for her to swat it off like it was some pest.

“Stop what? I know I haven’t done anything wrong. (Y/n) came up to me about this offer, you all are just interfering.”

“That’s only because you put that thought in her head in the first place! In the whole time I have been here, (y/n) looks like she just wants to bolt out of here but is only kept here by the false reassurance you give her! I—“

“I’m not giving her false reassurance. I’m telling her the truth and what she needs to hear.” Kirari interrupts, a smile on her lips as she grabs the Life Plan from your hands, “Her reasoning behind this thing is so simple and straight to the point, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet.”

“What are you talking about? I get that she doesn’t want to cause me—“

“Ah, ah, ah.” Kirari says, tutting her finger back and forth in front of Rin, “I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about her inner feelings. The ones that mostly drove her to her current decision.”

You feel your stomach drop at what Kirari was talking about. She doesn’t know about— S-she couldn’t possibly know about your feelings for Rin. And even in the off chance she did, she wouldn’t reveal it to everyone right now,... would she?

“Her inner feelings?” Rin mutters out, confused as his eyes flash to your figure.

“Do I really have to spell this out for you? (Y/n), is in love with you. To her, you were more important than herself. So she simply couldn’t afford to hold you down, possibly costing you this election.”

You feel your stomach drop as it becomes dead silent. You can’t bring yourself to look up from your feet at Rin. You just couldn’t risk the chance of looking at his face and see the possible reaction of disgust or disappointment. As the silence goes on, embarrassment begins to come in waves throughout your whole body. Enough to almost bring you to tears.

You can’t help but choke on your labored breath as you see Rin’s shoes enter your view, “(Y/n)... look up at me…”

You instantly shake your head from side to side. You just couldn’t, couldn’t.

“(Y/n)... Please…” Rin asks again, his cold hands reaching up to grab your warm flushed face. Quickly, you grab his hands to stop him from pulling your head up.

“S-stop Rin. Please… it’s o-okay that you don’t have feelings for me. Don’t feel p-pity on me.” You choke out, starting to struggle on trying not to cry. It’s quiet for a couple of seconds as Rin still struggles to force your head up. Eventually, he seems to give up as he pulls his hands away from your face with a small sigh, “K-Kirari. I will accep—“

However it seems you are proven wrong as before you can finish your sentence to Kirari, Rin picks you up. With both arms wrapped around the back of your thighs, you are forced to hold onto his shoulders for support so you don’t fall forward.

“There you are…” Rin mutters out as he looks up at you, finally able to see your face. He gives you a small smile before jokingly saying, “How many times have I told you to stop jumping to conclusions before you even hear the answer, (y/n)?”

You bite your lip and turn your gaze away from him, “You do the same thing…”

“True but that’s not what we should be talking about right?”

It goes dead quiet as you choose to not answer him.

“…Can you at least look at me…, please?” Rin gently speaks out, basically begging at this point for at least something that confirmed you were listening to him.

“Okay… What should we be talking about then?” You mumble out, hesitantly turning your gaze back down to Rin. Which from what you can see makes him a bit more happier.

“Well first, I should tell you that I… I Love you as well.” Rin confesses. However, instead of making your heart flutter like it should, it makes it ache instead. Balling your hands into fist on Rin’s suit jacket, you can’t help but close your eyes to try to calm yourself down.

“Please Rin…” You say to him, your voice broken and begging him to knock it off, “Please don’t lie about something like this…”

“I’m not lying (y/n). I would never, ever, lie about something like this.” Rin rebuts instantly. Making you open your eyes in shock as he suddenly places you down on one of the tables. You would have ended up falling backwards if it wasn’t for him grabbing onto your shoulders, “(y/n), I’ll admit right now, In front of everyone and you, that I’m a greedy son of a bitch. S-so, If you go and take that life plan, I will make it my life mission to scam that guy’s family out of so much money that it forces him to let you go. Just because, you drive me insane to the point I want to keep you all to myself.”

“H-hey you shouldn’t do that Rin. I—“

“It’s illegal? I could get in trouble? (Y/n)... my whole family business is illegal. We devote our lives to scamming people out of their money and precious items. And, If someone from the Obami family wants something, we will most definitely find a way to get it.” You can’t help but keep silent as you allow Rin’s words to soak in. He wouldn’t actually go through with that right?

“(Y/n), Think of it this way,” Yumeko suddenly speaks up. Your eyes trained to her as she make her way next to Kirari before speaking again, “You can either not take the life plan and run the risk of Rin not being allowed to pay for those leftover votes students will be holding on to at the end…”

You watch in bewilderment as Kirari passes the Life plan to Yumeko.

“...Or, you can accept the life plan you have chosen and we open it up here in front of everyone. Allowing Rin to see who it is and having him make it his life goal to destroy your arranged husband’s life and steal you back from him! …(Y/n)!”

You jolt up in surprise as Yumeko and Kirari look at you with crazed looks in their eyes.

“(Y/n)! It’s essentially a gamble! Will you choose to run the risk of Rin failing his dreams or have your arranged husband being devoured by the Obami family?! The decision of two people’s lives are in your hands!”

You look at the two in bewilderment before struggling to spit out, “You can’t be serious! Rin wouldn’t actually…”

As you turn back to look at Rin, your voice dies in your throat. He had the same crazed look as the other two as he stared down at you. Noticing you are already shaken up, he decides to push it further by leaning down to place a kiss on the corner of your lip.

“(Y/n)...,” Rin whispers out as he pulls away, his kiss making a tingling feeling resound through the surface of your lips as you stare frozen into his eyes, “I hope that with whatever decision you make, you are ready to be stuck with me because…”

Rin tilts his head to the side slightly so he can lean in again.

“...I’m never letting you go…”

As Rin captures his lips with yours, he had only intended to give you a small kiss to signify his promise but found himself wanting, craving, more. Pulling one of his hands up, he entangles it in your hair so that he can lean in further to deepen the kiss.

After a couple of more seconds of kissing you, Rin finally pulls away. He can’t help but gulp at the dazed out expression you give him. He wanted nothing more than to swoop in to give you another kiss but knew he couldn’t. He needed to calm down from the crazed adrenaline rush running through his veins and wait for you to not be as frightened by all this madness.

“So, (Y/n)...” Terano’s voice suddenly rings out. As you look at her, it seemed her and Yumi were the only ones not with a crazed expression on. “What’s your choice?”

“I-I…” You look at the Life plan and gulp. To you the decision was obvious but you still couldn’t get rid of the feeling of your stomach twisting and turning, “I choose… to take the life plan…”

Your stomach can’t help but drop more in guilt. Not only for the fact of allowing yourself to some other man but also allowing whoever was in that plan, life to be ruined…Devoured,... by the Momobami clan.

“You sure?” Kirari asks, wanting you to repeat yourself with more confidence on the gamble you were taking.

“Yes, I don’t want Rin to lose his spot in the election. So, I’m going to choose the life plan.”

“Okay…Yumeko.”

Yumeko turns her attention to the President, a small innocent look on her face.

“Would you do the honor?”

“Of course!” Yumeko shouts out, her expression going back to pure crazed delight. “Ready (y/n)?”

Your voice suddenly feels lost as you watch Yumeko adjust her grip on the life plan, leaving you with no other option than to nod your head as a sign of confirmation. As you watched what felt like Yumeko opening the first page of the life plan in slow motion, your heart was practically thumping out of your chest. Who could it possibly be?

You take your eyes away from the life plan for a moment to look at Rin. You just hoped whoever it was it wasn’t someone at the school. Rin and the other -Bami’s would make their life here a living hell.

Suddenly, Rin’s calm face turned to one of surprise and then, weirdly, he laughed.

“Huh?” You can’t help but let out, unable to understand why he did that until you turned back to Yumeko, “W-wait.. what-t?”

“Holy shit!” Ibara yells out, unable to help himself as he comes up to ruffle your hair, “Look like your my sister in law now, huh?”

“B-b-but… how?” You say in disbelief as you continue to stare at the life plan. Starting to finally coming to terms that you weren’t going insane and that Rin’s school profile picture was in fact staring back at you.

“That is a good question…” Ibara mumbles out, both him and Rin looking at Kirari confused, “How did you get our old man to accept this, Kirari? I can understand if it was me but Rin’s the family heir. He normally wouldn’t allow this kind of stuff.”

Kirari lets out a light laugh, “True, Mr. Obami really didn’t want to accept my proposal when I called him. He almost hung up on me when I told him how (y/n) had nothing to her family name…But...”

Kirari pauses for a second, almost as if she was trying not to laugh, “But, once I explain how (y/n)’s family had a generally healthy medical background and how (y/n) would be able to produce many healthy children in the future. He reconsidered as long as she and her family lived at the Obami family estate so he can keep an eye on (y/n) and teach her a couple things.”

You let out a small groan as you hide your face in Rin’s neck. Purely embarrassed about the fact that's the reason your future in-laws were going to allow you to marry their son. Talk about a first impression…

“Sounds like your father…” Terano sighs out as she looks at Rin and Ibara who are both trying not to laugh.

“Well, on the bright side (y/n), you really lucked out! You got everything you wanted!” Yumeko tells you as she happily passes the life plan off to Rin.

“What do you mean?” You asked confused, sending a quick glare Ibara’s way as he snickers at something written down in the life plan.

“Well, obviously you got to be with Rin and avoided causing someone else’s life to be destroyed by him.” Yumeko explains, holding up one hand to signify the obvious before holding up her other hand to explain the other thing she was getting at, “But, you also gained the thing you were fighting for. With your family forced into moving in the Obami estate, Rin doesn’t have to pay for any of your life expenses that you were so worried about.”

“Oh yeah…” You mutter out as you take a glance up at Rin who was still reading the life plan. You really did end up lucking out. There’s really no downfall in this exact scenario.

“Hey Kirari…” Ibara suddenly speaks up. Based on his expression, it looked like he was thinking something hilarious. Which isn’t always the best when it comes to Ibara, “I think you got something wrong here.”

“Oh?”

Ibara's expression gets even worse as he tries to hold back his laughter before continuing, “Yeah. I doubt (y/n) and Rin are going to have their first kid at 20 when dad is going to likely room them together!”

At Ibara’s inappropriate comment, you can’t help but smack him.

“Ibara!”

“Booooo! That was bad”

“Ibara, That was way too inappropriate!”

“Hey! Come on guys… that was actually— Hey wait don’t leave!”

…You were wrong, there was always a downside to something. One of them being the fact you had to live the rest of your life listening to the Obami brother’s teasing.

#rin obami #obami rin #rin obami x reader #obami rin x reader #obami #kakeguri #kakeguri xx #kakegurui x reader #kakegurui x you #kakegurui x y/n

332 notes · View notes

ana-benn · 4 years ago

Text

This was requested 😘

Three's Company

Warnings: mfm poly relationship, it's filthy.... I don't know. Also I wrote it as snippets along the relationship timeline so that's a thing.

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There had always been drawbacks to 'dating' Tyler. You'd followed him from Toronto to Boston looking for a change of scenery, and eventually the two of you started hooking up. It was a completely casual, and you'd take little breaks here and there to see other people. Initially though it just made sense. You cooked together, hung out together, and occasionally slept together. You felt like amplified best friends, and it worked for where you were in life.

Of course his trade to the Stars was a little unexpected, but it brought you two a little bit closer. Another move, and the decision to get a dog settled you both down and made you start thinking about maybe making a serious go of your relationship. Then he'd brought Jamie over, and you were done. He was like the opposite of Tyler and you loved it. Shy, and sweet but the ability to be ferocious bordering on animalistic.

Tyler was more goofy and fun, with a passion that left you feeling weak, but overall he was way more high energy than Jamie. You'd gotten close to Jamie as he and Tyler built a relationship, and you didn't know how to broach the subject with either man. You wanted them both, and it was so obvious to you that if you could make it happen for the three of you that was ideal situation.

Of course being as, while you and Jamie both had a shy side, Tyler did not and he full on approached the subject over dinner one night. You'd nearly swallowed your chicken whole, and Jamie choked on his beer at Tyler's proclamation that the two of them should share you.

"Tyler," you hissed.

"What? Come on babe, we both know you'd be into it," he grinned. "I've seen you check Chubbs out."

You couldn't deny it, so you acted maturely and stuck your tongue out at him, while Jamie stared in between the two of you.

"I'd be willing to try it," Jamie offered after a moment. Tyler lit up like Christmas then.

"Yes! I knew this would work out," he beamed wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

That first night was awkward and it took a while to feel completely comfortable. It seemed no matter what you did someone was being left out, and you weren't used to splitting your focus in bed. It seemed as though when Tyler would thrust Jamie would pull, or vice versa, and you quickly felt overwhelmed by the amount of hands on your body. Finally though as you laid in-between the two men you realize just how perfect it all felt.

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

After that first time it seemed like none of you could stay away. Jamie had tried to back off, not wanting to overstep, but you'd shown up at his door with Tyler in tow and the three of you had set up ground rules. You'd be free to sleep with either or both of them, whenever or however no hold barred. You threw out that they could sleep with one another if they wanted to, and then laughed as they both looked at you completely unamused. Of course as time went on you almost became convinced that the were, even if neither mentioned it to you. You had set up a limitation that if they wanted to sleep with other women you did prefer that they used protection. Both of them thought about and decided that they didn't want to do that. You knew it wasn't exactly fair, but you weren't going to argue either.

You'd gone back and forth on living arrangements for months after that. Transferring between Tyler's and Jamie's, before deciding that you should probably get a place all together. You'd make sure each of the boys had their own space, but you couldn't keep track of where any of your stuff was and it was driving you crazy.

As you moved in though you realized your one mistake, it seemed these two were completing constantly.

Who loaded more boxes? Tyler claimed it, but you'd noted Jamie taking a couple more than him. Not that you would tell anyone. You just laughed and shook your head.

Who brought in more boxes? Definitely Jamie, Tyler was outside showing the dogs their new yard.

Who put more boxes away? That was you, but then again you didn't really want them touching your clothes or trying to put dishes away.

Who set up more electronics? Tyler, hands down. Jamie had a hard time managing his own spotify account, and Tyler would be pissed if he missed any golf.

All day it went like that. You couldn't help but laugh at their pitiful faces when they lost one of their challenges either. You'd just pull them into a hug, and stroke their hair while high fiving the winner.

You'd thought through all the different options for bedrooms, and eventually decided that your room would be the common room. If the three of you decided to spend the night together, which you often did, you'd do that in your room. Jamie and Tyler each had their own rooms, so that they could decompress or be separated if the need arose.

That first night though, you felt completely relaxed. Both men had followed you up to bed and before you'd even finished your nighttime routine Tyler was behind you, lips on your neck. He walked to towards the bed with his hands guiding your hips. Once you were in-between Jamie' thighs he pulled you into himself, and pulled your chin up. He trapped your lips in a searing kiss, before his hands began to wander.

Tyler moved to cup your breasts, while Jamie palmed your ass, and they seemed to work in sync at trying to turn you into jello. They'd rotate between your lips and neck, and as soon as one broke for air the other was pulling your face back towards them. Teasing hands, gentle lips, co-mingled with the scratch of facial hair on your skin, and you'd never been so happy that most of the time all three of you slept in the nude. Jamie eventually moved back onto the bed pulling you with him, and resting you over his hardness. Instinctively you ground down on him, causing him to groan out.

Tyler walked around the bed, and Jamie flipped you over and started preparing to enter you from behind. Meanwhile Tyler nudged your lips with his cock, instinctively you opened up letting him enter your mouth. He and Jamie both groaned over you as they slid home, and you felt deliciously full. At this point the three of you knew your dance well, so as Jamie started moving so did Tyler. Jamie usually took the lead, so he would thrust and Tyler would follow, keeping you in a perfect rhythm. The ebb and flow of them worked your body into a state of utter bliss, and before you knew it you were spasming around Jamie. You vaguely heard him swear as you fell under the waves of your own orgasm.

"FUCK," Jamie yelled as he sent ropes of hot cum into your pussy. Before you could react, or even fully recover you felt Tyler (who'd pulled out of your mouth when you'd orgasmed) pull you onto his own cock. If Jamie was rough, and feral with his thrusts Tyler was meticulous and operated with precision. Jamie wanted to throw you into an orgasm, thriving off of the intensity. Tyler want to draw them out of you, wanting to be in control.

Tyler worked your clit as his slowly thrust towards his own completion, you felt yourself quivering within minutes. Jamie leaned forward catching your lips in his, as Tyler worked your neck again. Finally you cried out as you clenched around Tyler. Satisfied he allowed himself to release deep inside of you, he held your hips as you slumped forward into Jamie.

You were aware of Tyler whispering praise to you as Jamie grabbed a towel to clean you up. Tyler got the covers pulled back and after you were cleaned up Jamie slid in on the other side of you. Your head on Tyler's shoulder, as Jamie wrapped his tattooed arm around you. You fell asleep completely warm and comfortable.

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

The downside to your relationship was easily that you could only publicly lay claim to one of the guys at a time, and it had just been easier to stay Tyler's girlfriend. As you stood outside the locker room waiting for the guys to come out you noticed the crowd of girls gathered around by the barricade in their Benn jerseys and it made you see red. You tried really hard to hide your jealousy, but it wasn't always do-able. Tyler came out first wrapping you in his arms, excited after a win.

"Ugh, I wish they all went like that!" He exclaimed, spinning you around. It took him a moment to realize your excitement was a little faked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's stupid," you mumbled. Jamie probably would've left it alone, but Tyler liked to pick. He thought exposing where your weaknesses were made you stronger as a unit.

"Nope, gotta talk about it," he sing songed as you waited for Jamie.

"Ugh, fine," you huffed. "It's just hard knowing we're going to walk by those girls over there and there's nothing I can do. At least people know we're together. Jamie's like this free man, you know? I feel like I have no public claim and it sucks."

Tyler looked like he wanted to laugh, which caused you to roll your eyes, "It's not funny Ty."

"What's not funny?" Jamie asked as he walked out of the locker room. You couldn't help but appraise how good he looked too. You wanted to kiss him... But you knew that wouldn't happen until you were in the car. Meaning first you had to brave the throngs.

"Someone's jealous," Tyler answered, as you blushed.

"Oh, really?" Jamie laughed.

"You guys both suck," you said as you stomped away.

They laughed as the followed you, as Tyler shouted, "You're hot when you're mad,"Causing the girls you were passing to go crazy.

You turned around and flipped them both off, before resuming your march back to the car. Surprisingly Jamie showed up before Tyler, and you quirked an eyebrow.

"He's signing jerseys," Jamie explained.

"You know it's just as strange for me too," Jamie said after a long moment. You turned and looked at him, confused. "I have to give vague answers about who I'm seeing, or make sure if I post a picture of us together Tyler is there.... It's not any easier just because some girls think I'm single. I don't feel single. I'm so crazy in love with you it blows me away, I don't want to hide or pretend that this isn't real. It is, and I need to know that you know that."

You launched yourself at him then, fusing your lips to his as you leaned over the console, "I love you too, Jamie," you said. "I don't question your love. I just wish I could express it more publicly."

You settled back into your seat, and you noticed Tyler walking towards the car. He pouted as he got in the backseat.

"Just get my number tattooed on you," Jamie joked, winking at you as Tyler got settled.

"Well you are my favorite," you played along.

"Excuse me," Tyler interjected. "If you're getting anyone's number it should be mine! I like tattoos more," he proclaimed. "Besides I thought you were mad at Jamie, now you're ganging up on me!"

"What can we say Tyler, we're just emotionally healthy," Jamie joked. "You're the one who decided to hand out and flirt."

You laughed as Tyler grumbled in the backseat.

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

Fifteen days. The words felt like an echo in your mind, resonating with self pity. Jamie and Tyler would be gone for fifteen miserable days, and someone had to stay home with the dogs. Gerry laid his head in your lap as you sat on the couch, and both boys were packing.

"I'm mad at you," you whispered to him. He looked at you, before deciding to kiss your cheek. "Yeah yeah, you're forgiven," you sighed getting up off the couch.

"Jamie!" You called out, walking up stairs.

"What?" He yelled from his closet, you went in search of him.

"What are you doing?" You whined.

"I'm packing baby," he said gently. Kind of confused.

"You're supposed to be the responsible one, why'd you wait until the last minute?" You groaned flopping on his bed. It had been almost a year in this house and you could count on one hand the number of times he'd slept in here. Tyler got banished more to his room than Jamie ever did.

"Because you insisted that it was more important that we play Mario last night," he reminded you.

Tyler came wandering down the hall just then, "Hey Jamie, do you have any..." He laughed when he saw you. "Someone's feeling whiny huh?"

"You have no idea," you pouted. "If I kneecap you can you stay home?" You asked sitting up.

"They'd sideline me, I'd still have to go," he reminded you.

"Jamie," you pouted. "You're the captain, can't you do anything?"

"Sure," he lied, wanting to antagonize you. "But I won't." He grinned.

"You're both awful," you grumped. "I'm going to spend so much money while you're gone."

That one got Jamie to laugh, "And that's different... how?"

You sighed dramatically, as you headed for the door, "I don't like either of you anymore."

You heard their laughter as you went in search of something to keep you distracted. You wound up just cleaning the kitchen, and when you did you found a business card for the tattoo artist that the guys used. You'd never gotten one, but you did want one. It gave you an idea, and you tucked the card into your back pocket as you heard the guys coming downstairs.

Tyler kissed you first, a playful nip on your lips followed by a slow dance with his tongue. Jamie was more forceful, crushing your body into his as he cupped your face. They really were two halves that made you feel whole, and you felt so overwhelmed by how much you simply just felt for them.

-------

When the guys got home, they were surprised you weren't at the door waiting like normal. Instead you were out in the pool with the dogs. You smiled brightly as they came out to greet you.

"The fearsome warriors return," you giggled.

"Ah, mi'lady twas a long journey. We have returned more victorious than not," Tyler played along, while Jamie shook his head chuckling.

"Well, I got you a present," you smiled, getting out and walking towards them.

"And here we just brought laundry," Jamie grinned catching you by the waist and kissing you deeply.

You moaned at the taste of his lips, trying to deepen it, before you heard Tyler clear his throat, "What about me." You laughed at his playful pout. Extracting yourself from Jamie and kissing Tyler. There was more playfulness there. Little nips and he drew your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing you.

"Now what about our present," Tyler wiggled his eyebrows.

"Not that you perv," you playfully slapped at him. Then appraising the two of them you added, "Well not yet anyway."

You undid the leather cuff on your left wrist and proudly showed off your new tattoo, "Look!"

You had a small heart inked on your skin with the numbers 914 in the center. You grinned broadly as they took it in, Tyler as usual reacted first. Kissing you deeply, while Jamie grabbed your wrist and kissed the mark on your flesh.

"Absolutely perfect," he grinned.

Tyler nodded his agreement, "Yep, I agree."

#jamie benn #oh captain my captain #dallas stars #hockey #nhl #dallas hockey #dallas sports #stars dallas #tyler seguin #jamie benn x reader x tyler Seguin #im not okay #sorry im shit at ending fics #jamie benn fanfic #tyler seguin fanfic #bennguin

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lexsssu · 3 years ago

Text

𝑊𝑖𝑠ℎ (𝐷𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑖𝑓)

Ao3 ver.

From the moment he could perceive the world around him, Soma knew that life was difficult. Especially the world he had the misfortune to grow up in, because according to his parents the darkness and danger that was commonplace now was something that merely lurked behind the scenes during the time before he was born.

There was still danger no matter what era one is living in, but the era he grew up in is the most dangerous one. Dainsleif, his brooding yet ever thoughtful father said so, having lived for centuries and being witness to many major happenings within their world over the years.

“As long as we have each other...there is no other place I’d rather be,” his mother would always say as she presses her soft lips against the skin of his forehead.

Despite the darkness that had tainted their world, there is still light to be found even if it was only within the farthest corners and the smallest cracks. In his mother’s arms and beneath his father’s gaze, Soma felt the safest and happiest.

But sadly, the Abyss Order was relentless in their pursuit. Years of running and hiding could only keep them safe for so long.

“I’ll hold them off. Take our son and run as far as you can! Forget about me and keep on living! That’s an order!”

Soma’s baby blue eyes were wide as he gazed in horror at the sight of Dainsleif being swarmed by a squadron of Abyss Heralds, the boughkeeper’s figure getting farther and farther as his mother carried him away.

He doesn’t know how long they ran, he doesn’t remember how he even fell asleep. The blonde only remembers waking up on a small cot, lying next to you who looked exhausted and unkempt as you slept. He remembers asking if his father will meet up with you both later, only for you to burst in tears and embrace him tightly.

“Papa...Papa won’t be home for a long time, baby. But...he did his best for the both of us…”

The next several years of Soma’s life consisted of training with the Resistance, aiming to one day topple down the Abyss Order that took Teyvat hostage for several years now. He is filled with not just a thirst for vengeance and righteous fury, but also a sincere wish to end tyranny and prevent the tragedy that befell his family from ever happening to any other hapless child.

On the day of their planned final attack, he stood before you, a young man of eighteen who was the spitting image of your late husband. His body is bent forward so as to more easily reach your height while you placed a familiar dark mask with royal blue accents upon his face.

“He’ll watch over you for me. I know it,” despite the obvious tears that gathered at the corners of your eyes, not a single drop fell as you kissed Soma’s forehead.

“I’ll come back to you, Ma. I promise.” He holds the hands that cradle his face, committing to memory of their warmth and tenderness.

Those words were the last ones he managed to tell you before setting off, ebony cape fluttering as he spun away from you and joined the rest of the warriors that made up the Resistance.

If only he knew that he wouldn’t be able to honor his own words.

The Abyss Order proved too strong and every plan they prepared resulted in failure. Soma knew his time had come as he lay on the cold hard ground, his comrades either dead around him or fruitlessly fighting in a last ditch effort to survive. A glowing hydro blade rested on his neck, ready to end his life at any moment.

Rather than resist, he opted to accept his death with dignity. The young man stared at his would-be-killer, the frozen Abyss Herald seemingly prolonging his misery as if waiting for him to beg for his life.

“I’m sorry…” An all too familiar voice came from the Herald, one that the youth only remembers in his memories now.

Before he could react, Soma knew nothingness.

══════════════════

“Hey there, little guy. Are you lost?”

Large baby blue eyes blinked as their owner swiveled his head, taking in the sight of the dark sky twinkling with stars and heavenly bodies while a field of glowing dandelions surrounded his tiny body in the open field.

It takes the toddler a second before his eyes meet with yours, making you internally squeal at just how adorable this child looked. Platinum blonde hair, rich blue eyes, and those squishy cheeks just made you want to pinch them for days. You wondered which good-looking parents were blessed with this precious baby…

“Mama!”

“...Eh?”

And that is how you returned to the city with a toddler in tow.

“When did you get hitched? Well, even if it’s late I’d like to congratulate you anyway.”

“He’s not—”

“Mama, eat! Foo’!”

“...I’ll have a bowl of Cream Stew and Fragrant Mashed Potatoes”

“Coming right up! Why don’t you take a seat with the little one while I prepare?”

Still carrying Soma (who happily introduced himself earlier after ‘mistaking’ you for his mother), you try to find an empty table only to find none. You scan the seats to see if any of your friends or acquaintances were there, hoping to borrow a seat at their table.

When your eyes catch sight of a certain brooding blonde gentleman, you make a beeline straight to him.

“Good evening, Master Dainsleif. I’m sorry if I disturbed you, but I wanted to ask if I may perhaps sit with you this fine night? There aren’t any free tables as of now you see...but we’ll definitely vacate your table when a free one becomes available.”

The Bough Keeper lifts his gaze towards you, only to be met with a little face so eerily similar to his own that he has to blink several times to make sure he was seeing right.

“...Very well. If you don’t mind my company, then I suppose you may take a seat here—”

“PAPA!”

The forgotten Soma who had been mostly silent finally spoke up, shouting so excitedly that his voice rang across the tavern and caught the attention of every other customer within the premises.

Beneath all the stares, never did you wish to be swallowed up by the ground more than this very moment. You could only hug the little boy and bury your face in his hair, fervently praying for Barbatos to just make you disappear in a poof of smoke while the little boy in question giggled at the gobsmacked expression on Dainsleif’s face.

#lexsssu writes #genshin impact #genshin #dainsleif #genshin impact dainsleif #genshin dainsleif #dainsleif x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact dainsleif x reader #reader insert #genshin impact scenarios

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skyguy-snips · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 2: Inhibitor Chips

Book 7: Battle Scars

Words: 1263

Masterlist | Taglist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

note: rex! rex! rex! rex! he was skylar's OG big brother and they're the sweetest together omg (dave can we get rex in more episodes so i can write them together again?????)

Blue and white plastoid armor. She would recognize those tally marks anywhere.

He removed his hood, looking at them with an unreadable expression. Skylar felt Echo tense beside her, his arm lowering his blaster immediately.

“... Rex?”

----------

“Oh, great. Another clone. Just what I needed,” Cid said. “Well don’t get comfy. I’m done taking in strays. This ain’t a clone clubhouse, ya know.”

She turned and walked back to her office muttering the entire way. Skylar just tuned her out, staring at the man in front of them. Hunter stepped forward, holstering his blaster as the rest of them did the same.

“Captain,” Hunter said with a nod.

“It’s been a while, boys,” Rex replied. They all stood silent for a few seconds, their minds reeling. The stillness was broken, however, when Skylar let out a sob.

All of their heads whipped around, finding Skylar with a hand over her mouth as she stared at Rex. He turned his eyes to her, posture immediately softening as he opened his arms. She took off, launching into a hug with her arms wrapped around his neck.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she cried quietly. Rex hugged her tightly around her waist, burying his face in her neck.

“I’m glad you’re okay, too,” he whispered, pulling back to press a kiss to the side of her head. She stepped back a bit, wiping her face as she sniffled.

She had been with the 501st since the start, always on the bridge with General Skywalker, Commander Tano, and Captain Rex. It was her job to reign in Skywalker’s wild schemes, providing strategic planning and quick modifications during battle. When she wasn’t on the bridge, she was either planning strategies in Rex’s office or training with the boys of Torrent company. She had grown close to all of them, and they watched over her like a little sister, even if she was a higher ranking than all but Rex.

““Where have you been, Rex?” Echo asked, stepping around Skylar to pull his former Captain into a crushing hug. They pulled back after a moment, both of their eyes shiny as they fell into a keldabe, sans-helmets.

“That’s a long story.”

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They all sat at the bar as Rex finished explaining everything.

“And when the war ended, I guess you could say I’ve been… keeping a low profile,” Rex said.

“Very low. Imperial files have you listed as killed in action,” Tech said from the end of the bar. Skylar frowned at that, remembering stumbling across the file when she was trying to figure out what happened.

“Being dead in the Empire’s eyes has its advantages,” Rex replied. Skylar nudged his shoulder lightly with her own, Rex clinking his cup with Echo’s on his other side.

“Well, how’d you track us down?” Echo asked. Rex smiled.

“Trace and Rafa Martez. They said a squad of rogue clones helped them on Corellia,” he said, turning around on his barstool to lean forward on his knees. “They told me I could find you here. And that you were traveling with a kid. Who is she?”

“Omega. She’s a clone like us,” Hunter said from Skylar’s other side. Rex shot them a surprised look, but before he could ask any questions, there was a shout from the door.

“Well look who it is,” Wrecker laughed, running over to the group with Omega in tow. “Come here, Rex!”

Wrecker wrapped his arms around him, squeezing tightly as he lifted Rex off of his stool. Echo and Skylar laughed at the overwhelmed face Rex shot them.

“Yeah, good to see you too, Wrecker,” he said, voice strained.

“I thought you didn’t like the regs,” Omega said from behind Wrecker. He spun around with Rex still in his arms, and then placed him on the floor.

“This one we like,” he said, stumbling back when Rex gave him a shove. Echo and Skylar shook their heads fondly and cast each other amused looks.

“Omega, this is Rex,” Skylar said, gesturing between the two. Rex knelt down to her level.

“I’ve met many clones in my time, but never one like you,” he said. Omega just started at him for a moment before walking closer, stopping only inches from his face. He shifted a bit, eyes flitting around as she silently studied him.

“You’re a generation one,” she finally said, a smile forming. Rex just smiled back.

“Now how’d you know that?” he asked, impressed by this kid’s knowledge. She just continued to grin.

“From the lines on your face.”

Skylar almost spit out her drink, trying not to laugh at the look on Rex’s face after this girl just called him old. Over the years, Rex had become fairly good with kids, so he just took it in stride.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve been around,” he chuckled, glancing at the group over his shoulder.

“You got that right,” Skylar laughed, earning a playful glare from him. The moment was cut short when Wrecker groaned, grabbing the side of his head.

“Sky, I need one of those med patches,” he said, eyes squeezed shut in pain. Skylar rolled her eyes, missing the way Rex studied Wrecker as he slowly stood up.

“You used the last one,” she told him, digging through her bag.

“What’s wrong?” Rex asked, leveling him with an intense look.

“Nothin’, it’s just a headache,” Wrecker said, waving a hand.

“Which are becoming more frequent,” Skylar added. Rex glanced at her before his gaze went right back to Wrecker.

“Is that so?”

“If you're concerned about the so-called inhibitor chips, don’t be,” Tech reassured from the opposite end of the bar. “Our deviant nature appears to have impeded their functionality. Except in Crosshair.”

Skylar could see Rex grow even more tense.

“You’re telling me you haven’t removed your chips?” Rex asked lowly.

“No, not yet,” Tech replied.

Rex roughly grabbed Skylar’s arm, pulling her behind him and next to Omega as his right hand pulled his cloak back and hovered over his blaster. Skylar’s eyes widened, looking from the back of Rex’s head to the four sets of frightened eyes in front of them.

“Rex…?” Hunter asked, holding his hands up and stepping backwards towards his brothers.

“Those chips make you a threat to everyone around you. Even them,” Rex said, hand gesturing slightly towards the two girls behind him. His hand then settled on his blaster, and Skylar pulled Omega back a few steps with a hand on her shoulder. “You’re all ticking time bombs.”

“Take it easy, Captain,” Hunter said, taking a few steps forward with his hands out.

“What’s in your head is more dangerous than you can imagine. I’ve seen what happens when the chip activates, and I don’t want to bury any more of our brothers,” Rex said. Skylar deflated, remembering what Rex told them about his own experience during Order 66. The 501st, Jesse, Ahsoka. All of them six feet under on some moon. None of them deserved that.

“Trust me. It is not something you can control. I couldn’t,” he continued, eyes dropping as he remembered being locked inside of his own mind, having to watch as he shot at Ahsoka, hunting her down. “It’s a risk you do not want to take.”

Skylar stepped forward a bit, placing a gentle hand on Rex’s armored shoulder. She felt him relax a bit, and the hand that was on his blaster came up to rest on top of hers.

She saw Hunter glance at her and Omega, frowning at the thought of having to hurt them against his will. He looked at Rex, then, determined.

“How do you suggest we get them out?” he asked. Skylar moved to stand beside Rex, turning and looking at him.

“Good question. I’ll be in touch,” he replied.

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Taglist (request to be added here)

@commxnderwolffe @graciaramirez @killtherandomness @nerjetiise @photowizard17 @selbyknox @unapprovedtrash@xsweetchanx @hannahbowker @little-dove14 @quietly-scrolling-through @wondergal2001 @zombiedixon89 @hanns1d @lokigirlszendaya @louise-12

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Two ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG

Word count: 3048

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour-rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Surprise! I wrote another chapter so I decided to go ahead and make another post. The reasoning behind this is I want to stay one month ahead and only one month ahead. That will give me a helpful buffer for when life happens but I don’t want to stockpile any more chapters than necessary. You know? So...here’s chapter two!

It’s nearing nightfall by the time we finally stop. My bones are stiff, my butt is sore, and my back hurts from all the tension I kept there out of fear that I would otherwise fall and be trampled under the horse’s quick-moving hooves.

Baranor slides down, reaching his arms up to me. I place my hands on his shoulders and allow him to help me off the horse. I stumble the moment my feet hit the ground.

Orophin—who I’ve yet to actually talk to—offers me a sympathetic smile. “Have you not ridden in a while? Take a short walk and stretch a little. It will help you feel less sore in the morning.”

I nod my thanks, tentatively releasing my hands from Baranor’s arms and turning away from the horses.

“Do not go far.” I jump. Haldir’s voice floats from the tree line just in front of us. I hadn’t seen him dismount, let alone climb into the branches. “We are not in guarded territory.”

With that ominous warning, I decide it’s best to stay close to the others. We’re near enough to the riverbank, so I hobble to the edge of the water and back again. Once movement comes a little easier, I extend my path to the tree line.

A voice to my left interrupts the silence. “Do you remember anything else?”

I yelp, placing a hand over my racing heart.

Rumil grins, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He hands me a canteen. “Sorry. I forget how terrible human senses are.”

I raise an eyebrow but bring the canteen to my lips, grateful for the drink. “And, what, elves are so much better?”

Mentally, I admonish myself for playing along. There’s no such thing as elves. Either they’re messing with me, or I really am having a wildly vivid dream.

Rumil nods, shrugging his shoulders in a way that suggests the answer is obvious. “Well, yes. We live longer, have better sight, hearing, reflexes. We do not tire as quickly as humans do, and we have a respect for our kin that the race of man cannot hope to imitate. I do not mean to offend.” He smiles, carrying a note of apology in his voice. “It’s only the truth.”

I shrug, unbothered by his comment. Because if elves exist in this world I dreamed up, why shouldn’t they be better than humans? It’s just as likely that I’ve imagined a race that’s worse than humans, and I only haven’t met them yet. “If you say so. But to answer your question, no, I don’t remember anything else. How long was I passed out?”

From his place by the now-grazing horses, Baranor answers. “Not long once we arrived, but I do not know how long you laid there before.”

“Yes, and you are quite lucky we arrived, especially with Baranor in tow.” Rumil winks, gripping my elbow and turning me back towards the part of the ground where I assume we will sleep tonight.

I give Baranor a questioning look.

He smiles awkwardly, a bit self-conscious. “I am quite skilled as a healer. I used the power in my spirit to call to your own. You were very nearly dead when we happened upon you.”

I file that information away. Power in my spirit…Probably something I’d read in a book once that my brain has brought up now. And these men I’m with—elves, I guess, according to the dream—must be people I know from…from…

But the fledgling thought dies away, leaving me with no more answers than before. I try to push back my disappointment, my logical side kicking in to soothe me. It’s okay. Soon the doctors will fix you, or you’ll wake up from this dream, and everything will be fine. You just have to wait. No point in getting freaked out.

Rumil, Baranor, and I settle on the high part of the riverbank. Orophin sits too, once he’s done refilling the canteens. I glance at the trees. I haven’t seen Haldir since we stopped riding. “Is he not going to join us?”

Orophin and Baranor exchange looks, but Rumil just snorts. “Likely not. As he said, we are neither in the territory guarded by the wardens of Lothlórien nor the patrols of Elrond. Someone has to watch for threats. More often than, not, Haldir insists on the job for himself. He doesn’t trust us to keep good enough watch.”

“That’s not it and you know it,” Orophin hisses, and I flinch at the anger in his voice, even though it wasn’t directed at me. I have no idea how Rumil keeps his face blank. The two stare each other down until Orophin speaks again, still through gritted teeth. “Go and collect the rations for dinner.”

Rumil rolls his eyes, but does as his brother says.

Baranor clears his throat, and I’m grateful when he changes the subject. He inclines his head towards me. “I see you are dressed for travel. Perhaps you were part of a company and got separated?”

Mildly perplexed, I look down at my body. Huh. He’s right. Something I had yet to take notice of is the clothes I wear — sturdy dark leggings, a deep green tunic, a red cloak, and thick leather boots. I haven’t the slightest idea how I conjured up these clothes, but Baranor is right — they’re perfect for this type of outdoor traveling.

Rumil returns and places a bundle of leaves in each of our hands. Inside seems to be bread and slices of some sort of fruit. Hesitantly, I take a bite. It’s surprisingly good.

“So how long until we reach this friend of yours?”

“Elrond,” Orophin informs, looking down the path we intend to continue on tomorrow. “Probably about thirteen more days, unless we hit bad weather. The mountains will take the longest, and traveling with a human will slow us down.” He realizes his words, eyes growing wide. “I don’t mean to be rude—”

“No, no, I get it.” I wave him off, picking at the bread in my hands. These elves sure have a bad view of me. “Humans suck.”

“At least it’s still spring,” Rumil supplies, trying to lighten the mood. “That will make our path through the Misty Mountains easier.”

“Right you are,” Baranor agrees, sipping from his canteen. “I detest crossing them in the snow.”

The three elves slip into easy conversation, exchanging stories of the worst travel conditions each has suffered, trying to one-up each other. While they talk, I place my bread back in its leaves and on the ground, no longer hungry. The stories they tell are quite detailed, and there’s this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I wouldn’t be able to make all this up…the landscape, the language, a whole new species with differing characteristics, vast knowledge of this world’s travel ways, four fully-thought-out ‘characters’, for lack of a better word….Dread and fear mingle with exhaustion and I slump, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and go to sleep for a very long time. Perhaps when I wake, all will be well.

The murmurs from those around me sound muffled. A hand wraps grips one of my shoulders, holding me upright, and Baranor’s voice comes from beside my ear. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head, feeling the weight of their eyes on me. “I’m just exhausted.”

He makes a noise of agreement. “Of course you are, I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

I try and wave off his apology, but it seems like too much effort to raise my arm over such a little thing. From the corner of my eye, I see Rumil stand and visit the horses. He returns carrying a rolled up mat and a folded blanket. He unfurls both, setting them on the ground between our gathering spot and the tree line. He beckons for me to join him and, with great effort, I stand without help, going to meet him as requested.

“Here. Sorry it’s not much. If we had known we’d be traveling with a lady, we would have brought much cushier sleeping provisions.”

I roll my tired eyes, realizing that he’s mocking me. “Goodnight, Rumil.”

He grins, sauntering off to rejoin his companions. “Goodnight, Cosima.”

I all but collapse on the mat, pulling the surprisingly warm blanket over my shoulders. Before I’m aware what’s happening, I’ve plunged into sleep.

{***}

Baranor woke me with the sun, and I’m very grateful to be leaning against him rather than directing the horse. I feel much too groggy to properly steer such a beast, especially given the fact that I have no idea how. Even though he must have stayed up most of the night, Haldir doesn’t look the slightest bit tired, and, on behalf of the bags underneath my eyes, I am thoroughly annoyed. He hasn’t said a word to me aside from the few sentences yesterday. I understand it a bit more now, though. He seems to be the leader of this group, and has either been charged with its security, or taken the task upon himself. Despite there not being another soul in sight, he rides at the front of our group—straight backed, stiff, his head on a near-constant swivel. Orophin tends to stay near one of Haldir’s shoulders—guarding his back and providing a sort of second watch, I presume. Rumil alternates between riding in-step with the horse Baranor and I occupy and cantering along behind us.

If riding was difficult yesterday, it is doubly so this morning.

Every bounce jolts though my bones, and I seem always on the verge of being tossed to the side, never quite able to fall into the rhythm the other four find so easily.

Rumil pulls up beside us, seeming to showcase his perfect form. “Having trouble?”

I grit my teeth, but that only makes them clash together as the horse’s feet collide with the ground. “No.”

He snorts. “Toes up, heels down. Grip the horse with your legs, don’t put all that tension in your back. And if Baranor were human, you’d have strangled him by now. Loosen up.”

Baranor huffs out a laugh and takes an exaggerated breath when I relax my hold around him. “Finally, I can breathe!”

“So dramatic,” I mumble, rolling my eyes for Rumil’s benefit.

“What was that,” Baranor questions, though I know if he has as good hearing as he claims to have, he surely heard my comment.

“I said you’re a really great rider,” I shout.

The three of us dissolve into laughter, and I lose myself in this. For a moment, I forget that I am dreaming, that this is a strange world I made up in my head. I forget that I haven’t the slightest idea what comes next. Instead, I start to forge the first tentative bonds of friendship.

{***}

I am glad when we stop for the evening, and run through some stretches to try and help with the muscle aches. Rumil’s pointers certainly helped though, and I have hopes that perhaps this discomfort is only temporary. We still follow the river, and once again make camp in the space on the high, grassy bank. Bathing was an experience, but it was mercifully quick. The water was much too cold for my liking, so I washed as hastily as I could and then redressed, joining the others on the bank. I lean over to wring the water from my hair, the saturation making it seem nearly black. It’s getting quite long—almost too long, and I hope wherever we’re going has someone willing to cut it. Rumil watches me curiously as I take a spare cloth and scrunch my hair—bringing out its natural waves—but says nothing, only continues giving me an odd look. I guess with the stick-straight hair of he and his brothers, this would look unusual. Just as I am about to tease him for his staring, Haldir comes in to sight, looking quite severe.

“We have lost the cover of the trees. We will take watch in pairs, rotating halfway through the night. Orophin, Baranor—you take the first shift.”

They dutifully follow Haldir’s order, and I watch their faces as they pass. They show no signs of tiredness—no bags under their eyes, no yawning, in fact, not even a hair is out of place—but if it were me, I would be absolutely exhausted with all this staying up. And, though it is technically their turn to rest, Rumil and Haldir are still on their feet, occupying themselves with tending to the horses. I feel awful, peacefully sitting on my bedroll, messing with my hair and eating dinner, knowing I’ll get a full night’s sleep when none of them will have that luxury.

I return my food to the sack loaned to me and push myself to my feet, tentatively approaching Rumil and his brother. Rumil smiles in greeting. Haldir merely glances up and then back to his horse’s hoof he’s bending over to attend. Though I fight to keep my eyes open as it is, it’s not right for me to leave them to do all the work. So, I try to project energy I do not feel, and pose my question. “Do you want me to take a watch shift tonight?”

Haldir stiffens. Rumil raises his eyebrows and vibrates slightly—he’s holding back laughter! I give them my best unimpressed look.

Rumil tries to hide his amusement but can’t do away with his wide grin. “We appreciate the offer, really. But having a human stand watch when we have elves at our disposal? It would be the same to not set a watch at all.”

I huff, crossing my arms, trying to ignore the heat I feel in my cheeks. All this talk of how incapable humans are is getting a little old. “Well, there must be something I can do to help. I shouldn’t go straight to bed if the rest of you are still working.”

Rumil’s expression softens. He purses his lips, seeming to search for either a task for me or a way to turn me away.

“Do you know how to mend clothing?”

I’m momentarily caught off guard. Haldir hasn’t looked up from clearing his horse’s hooves, but it was definitely him who spoke.

Unbidden, the action of holding a ripped piece of cloth and using a needle and threat to bind it comes to mind. I must know how. So I answer in the affirmative. “Yeah, I think so.”

Haldir nods, straightening only to exchange one hoof for the other, never making eye contact with either me or his brother. “Good. There’s a blue tunic in my largest bag that needs mending, and one of Rumil’s too—that one’s red. Work with the light. Stop when you can’t see anymore and finish in the morning.”

I blink and feel my head tilt to the side. That’s the most he’s ever said to me. But it’s not even that he spoke, it’s how. Every syllable is crisp, curt, and succinct—a command in every sense of the word. I long-ago realized that Haldir is in charge of this little group, though now I wonder if he supervises in a larger capacity back in his home. I get the feeling he’s quite used to talking to people like this, and being obeyed.

But I did ask for something to do, so I don’t comment on his tone, only say my goodbyes and retrieve the shirts he’s described. They’re exactly where he said they would be and wrapped around a small sewing kit. I take the supplies and return to my bedroll, working through the sunset. When it grows too dark to see, I put the project away. Rumil and Haldir join me, bringing dinner with them. They set out their mats in a sort of triangle, and I realize somewhat belatedly that this allows each of us to watch the other’s back. It seems second-nature to them, to be cautions and on their guard, even during dinnertime and sleep.

I try to distract myself from that disconcerting thought. “Why are we going to meet this friend of yours anyway?”

Rumil’s gaze turns to his brother standing watch, a fond look in his eye. “There is an elleth there that Orophin is courting. Their time apart has been too long for his liking, so he is paying her a visit. It is dangerous to travel these lands alone, so Haldir and I took leave to accompany him.”

Courting. Elleth. Where am I finding all these words? I keep talking in an effort to distract myself. “That’s really sweet. Does Baranor usually go with you all, since he’s a healer?”

“Usually,” Rumil confirms. “He has extensive experience in the halls of healing, as well as healing on the battlefield, so he is an excellent addition to any company. Also Elrond—the friend we are taking you to—is an acclaimed healer himself, so he and Baranor enjoy conversing with each other.”

Haldir stretches his arms up, then reclines on his mat. “Better get some sleep, all of us. Rumil—we’re up in four hours.”

I take his advice, laying down on my own bedroll. Exhausted though I am, sleep evades me.

My mind runs a million miles an hour, piecing together bits of information from this world, trying to remember things from my home. And, all the while, thought takes root, sowing seeds of fear in my mind.

Because while I know this world isn’t real, and thus no harm can come to me here…Rumil said these lands are dangerous, and the increased watches only support my theory that we are under some kind of threat. I have no weapon with which to defend myself, let alone any skill, and while I know logically that I could throw myself off a cliff and still be fine….

What if that’s not the case?

I groan, rolling onto my back.

This is ridiculous. This place is made up. I’m trapped inside my own head, so I have no reason to be scared. Go to sleep.

And, when the moon is much higher in the sky, the exhaustion wins.

A/n Thanks for reading! You know how likes, comments, and reblogs make me smile. Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged (for some reason Tumblr isn’t letting me tag all of you?) try subscribing to the story on Ao3! That will update you when I post there.

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 11

CLICK HERE IF YOU ARE A FIRST TIME READER

TW for this chapter: more mild smut. more memes. more hijinks and shenanigans. coffee make the brain go skrrrt. bruce fluff & thor being a good bro™. some1 is catching ✨feelings✨. Previous chapters in the link above the cover pic.

Beta reader is @miscmarvelwritings so don't be shy, give her a read. She's the PB to my jelly.

"I don't know about you..." Taylor Swift softly sang from the speakers.

"Bitch, I hope the fuck you do!" I shouted, tumbling into the kitchen with the grace of a giraffe on acid. The smell of coffee and fresh omelettes was mouthwatering.

"You look… Good," Peter stared at me, his coffee mug frozen halfway to his mouth. The tone of his voice bore very little understanding of the situation he found himself in.

I didn't sleep that night, instead pursuing a scientific quest right after being finger-fucked by Tony Stark. I blame the suits - he had one partially disassembled not ten feet from the puddle my juices had made on the floor - and well, I never said I had a great attention span. One terrible, inappropriate joke had led us to smirking to each other from both sides of the suit as we brainstormed how to best modify it for impromptu bondage sessions. If Peter could have heard us go at it, he'd never set foot in Tony's lab ever again.

On my mighty quest to quench the thirst for knowledge, I completely neglected basic hygiene, so the me that rolled into the kitchen that morning still had yesterday's outfit consisting of fishnets and Tony's hoodie, possibly stained with cum and pussy juice. As a bonus feature, infamous raccoon eyes had made an appearance, courtesy of me rubbing my face multiple times throughout the night.

"I'm feeling my oats," I declared proudly, sitting down next to Peter, making grabby hands at the coffee machine.

"I'm tempted to ask..." Clint handed me the steaming hot dish full of holy bean juice. "But I think I'd rather not." Pointedly, he moved away from me, just enough to make it known he was wary.

"What just happened?" Stephen Strange blinked owlishly.

Boy was he a sight for sore eyes. The wizard wasn't Tony, of course, but his plain white tee left very little to imagination, pulled tight across his toned chest and lean arms. The grey sweats? Illegal. That's a bonk and a ticket to the horny jail for me.

"You didn't get to sleep? Again?" Peter asked, exasperated.

"Sleep who?" I chirped, feeling way too energetic for someone running on some illegal drugs and a single orgasm. It was easy to shrug off the concerned stares I kept getting from the adults and Pete since my already wacky attention span decided to quit it's job without notice.

"Guys, have you seen… oh, there she is!" Tony scrambled into the kitchen, holding his head. That manic look did nothing for his complexion, but then again, I'd take him even filthy and crippled. "Don't just disappear like that!" He snatched the half-empty coffee cup, downing it's remnants in one go and immediately going for a refill. "We didn't finish programming in the shibari function..." He mumbled, absentmindedly running a hand through his messy, greasy hair.

"I..." Peter was still frozen. "I'm not sure I, uh, follow."

"So, me and Tones had this absolutely BRILLIANT idea ..." I started, leaning back in my chair. "But the execution, as usual, needs more work."

"Yes, I can see you've been having ideas," Pete's sass was ignored by both me and Tony. The man was kind enough to clumsily plop a coffee cup in front of me as he was beelining for the fridge. "What are you trying to install? Shib-what?"

"You don't want to know, Pete, trust me," Clint made big eyes at me from across the room. "I'm scared of you," He added, pointing an accusative finger in my direction.

I gave him my best manic stare, probably overdid it by a wide margin. Barton shrunk back, slinking subtly behind Stephen who cleared his throat.

"So I've heard you had an incident yesterday," The doctor was looking at me with concern and pity. "Do you need to visit the medbay?"

About a dozen unsaid and very inappropriate responses later, I simply shook my head negative. My mouth was not to be trusted whilst I was so distracted. Plus, he was hot. I kind of tended to think with my vagina instead of my brain around hot people.

"Good morning," Wanda entered the room, stopping briefly at my side to give me a hug. "Ugh, finally," She muttered the words, looking first at me, then at Tony.

I raised my eyebrow in a silent question and she just smiled, reaching for her own coffee cup.

Tony mercilessly towed me back to his lab once I polished off two omelettes and another cup of coffee - what would've been my fourth was snatched out by an amused Stephen, all stern and firm and magical, meaning he simply whooshed it out of existence as I was raising it to my mouth. He didn't appreciate my choice of expletives, either, none too fondly rolling his eyes and beginning a lecture on heart attacks. Whatever, Tony was my knight in shining armour and we left the kitchen quietly plotting our mechanical plots right over the annoying doctor's mumbling.

There was quite a lot of delicate soldering involved in the gauntlets of the new suit. Having to construct and fix everything on the go proved to be harder than building a robot; even for Tony, the genius engineer himself. We had burned ourselves and nearly dislocated our wrists too many times to count. Thankfully Friday ran the calculations in the background, so we just did the manual labor part.

And coding. The pounding in my skull, the acid in my loins. My God, I hated coding during a hangover. Tony didn't fare any better and that was the best consolation, really. Despite the consumed caffeine, he passed out somewhere during the initial stage. I held out not much longer, barely catching myself as I was reclining against him on the very floor we were building on, scattered cups and tools and glowing holo-screens keeping us company.

My sleep was deep but not deep enough to miss a pair of deep male voices contemplating how to best move mine and Tony's sleeping bodies somewhere more comfortable. The engineer was a cuddler, it turns out, and refused to unwind himself from my prone body, going as far as to kick one of the men - I later learned it was Thor who got a swift punt in the shins from Tony when the Asgardian and Banner attempted to untangle our combined limbs. In the end, they settled awkwardly piling me on top of Tony and Thor single-handedly carried us all the way to Tony's penthouse, depositing us in the absolutely magnificent fluffy, enormous bed.

The bed? I wanted one as soon as I landed on it.

The fishnets? They were beginning to cut into the soft parts of my body, causing an uncomfortable stinging and itching sensation whenever I moved.

"Bwucie," I slurred with my eyes shut, feeling the man rustling around with a blanket, tucking us in. He was just the sweetest scientist.

"Sorry, we tried not to wake you up. Go back to sleep, Princess," He whispered, leaning closer to my face. His breath tickled my hair.

"M'kay, jus' wanna get these off," I weakly pulled at the offending piece of clothing.

The man chuckled. "That looks uncomfortable," Before softly sliding his hands up my legs, hooking his fingers under the stretchy waistband and pulling them down. His hands were hot and soft; my moan was softer but he heard it nonetheless, hand briefly stilling on my thigh.

I snuggled deeper into Tony, rolling onto my side and unashamedly throwing a leg over his hips, happy to find his jeans were off, too.

It appeared that Tony's teammates had already developed some sort of care protocol for their resident mad scientists. Bruce's and Thor's actions had been executed with a practiced care and gentleness. The warm fuzzy feeling in my chest blossomed fully as Bruce once more tucked the blanket around me, tenderly patting me on the back and Tony on the shoulder.

"You'nThor, y'the best," I managed to wiggle out the words out of my muddled, uncooperative brain before returning back to the dreamland.

It felt like another ten minute nap when I woke up again. The lights in the room were off, the NYC skyline providing the illumination instead. Tony was still in bed with me, his breathing even and the quiet hum of the arc reactor steady under my ear. It was the first time I'd been close enough to him to hear the sound of it.

Sleep slowly seeped out of my body, lead disappearing from my limbs. It seemed like I hadn't moved at all. Once my head cleared up, the confusion seeped in. I'd gone to second base with Tony and we did science and never spoke of it again. He didn't kiss me, didn't touch me more than usual - but didn't resist a good ole sleepy cuddle.

What now? I never thought I'd actually get this far. Some part of me - probably the same part that sent me on a romantic novel reading spree a couple of years ago - thought he'd wake up, confess his secret love and attraction for me and we'd seal it with a kiss. Yeah, no, that sounded disgustingly unrealistic even to my own ears. There was no way I would be kissing someone with this swamp I had going on in my mouth.

I wasn't actually that naïve. Why would a man like him pursue something serious with a girl like me? I was a child in his eyes. In fact, all of the Avengers minus Wanda and Bucky treated me like a child. I knew why and I still hated it. I've been taking care of myself in all the ways but financial for years, surely, they had to have noticed that. Teachers in school certainly did. Bruce did, to some extent, I had to admit begrudgingly. Even if his behaviour was really peculiar sometimes.

"Do I make a comfortable pillow, Princess?" A chuckle startled me out of my musings. Tony sounded relaxed and warm and cosy.

"Yeah," I answered honestly, tilting to see his face. He was giving me that lopsided smirk, the one he previously saved for science and Peter and Clint's baking ventures. Something within me stirred, painfully tightening my chest, and I fought against it to preserve this memory like this - happy, carefree.

His thumb found it's way around me, tracing the line of my jaw with surprising tenderness. He was looking at me like I was made of glass. Like I was the most beautiful sculpture he'd ever seen.

I scrunched my nose when his finger found my lips. "I need a shower and a toothbrush," I declared, not knowing what else to do. All of this - the atmosphere, the shared comfort, the looks - it felt too intimate somehow. Having to be on full display of his intelligent, deep brown eyes was terrifying: I felt like crying one moment and laughing the next.

"I was having a moment here," Tony snorted indignantly but relented nonetheless, slowly pushing himself up in a sitting position.

I admired his broad shoulders and the dips and valleys of his arms as he stretched; he caught me staring and winked, of course. I retaliated with skimming my fingertips under the hem of his tee, lightly scratching my nails over his defined abs, delighted with his shiver.

"Behave," He sternly mouthed, following with a smile.

"Never," I smiled back, slipping into banter with comfortable familiarity.

He then led me to the huge walk-in shower, unashamedly stripping off his shirt and socks on the way. Boxers were the last, flying somewhere over my head. My hormones were a raging inferno, or, at least that's what I would have said if someone asked me why the 'loading' icon was hanging over my head as I stared at Tony's round, firm ass. I had to touch it. I absolutely had to touch it, at least once in my life.

My dignity was saved by my own yawn. Tony's hands used the opportunity to slide his hoodie (RIP) over my head, exposing me to the cold air. I shivered in my lacy bra and panties until they were gone, too. My flaws stared back at me from the wall-length mirror and with the way Tony's hands gently settled over my stomach, another hand copping a feel of my breast, I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Beautiful, Princess," He simply said, having noticed the frown on my face.

"No, you," I automatically replied, smirking.

"Me? Nah," He shrugged nonchalantly, gesturing to his arc reactor. "Sexy, however... I'm definitely fucking hot," He leered, pressing his hips into mine with a knowing smirk.

I wiggled my butt, taking my time to turn around and face him. I saw right through the defenses he'd put up. The team didn't start calling me "girl version of Tony" without a reason - I knew we were quite similar in the less desirable character trait category. Impulsive, selfish. Defensive.

Angry red lines spanned across his chest, some faded, some raised. In the middle of it all, the arc reactor shone like a blue little sun in its metal framing. I traced around it, feeling the uneven skin, bumps and dips of it. "It keeps you alive. That's more than enough. For me," I placed a chaste kiss right in the middle of it.

I wished he didn't have to have the thing. I wished he'd never had to go through what he went though in Afghanistan - for me, the press release I'd read was enough to get a grasp on the fact he was tortured and hurt and fucked up in there.

Stepping into the shower, I retreated from him, retreated from my feelings getting in the way and ruining the fun. The least I wanted to do was humiliate myself by crying out of... Out of what, pity? Lovesickness?

"I'm starting to see why everybody else thinks we might be related," Tony's chuckle sounded tired and slightly forced.

"I hope not," A moment to figure out what knob to turn and hot water rained down my body. Almost instantly, the tension in me melted away. "I'm not really into incest and shit."

"Ew," He walked under the stream, sighing agreeably. "But you're into bondage, so you've got that going on for you."

"Yep. Bondage and hot old dudes," I shrugged, reaching for the shampoo.

"I definitely qualify for all three," Tony promptly snatched the bottle out of my hands, standing behind me to do the tedious task of washing me. I allowed, guiltlessly enjoying the treatment. His dexterous fingers massaged my scalp, caressed my body.

A moan slipped out of me at the glide of his hand across my nether regions.

"Tut-tut, Birdbrain is going to pitch a fit if we're late for dinner!"

"Fuck the Chicken," I announced petulantly, attempting to follow the motion of his hand with my hips. He held me firmly by my stomach, only succeeding in adding fuel to the fire within me. "Tony-y-y..."

"Nu-uh," He replied, but the smile hidden in my shoulder and the boner poking me in the hip gave him away.

"Sir?" I tried, getting a low groan in response. "Master? Owner? Daddy?"

His breath stuttered at the last syllable, teeth closing none-too-gently around a patch of my skin. I felt a bruise bloom under his mouth, the delicious pull of it making me realize I'd be marked by Tony for days. A full-body shudder erupted from me at the thought.

"You're trouble," He growled, grinding his own arousal into my ass. "Filthy, spoiled brat," Tony punctuated his words with another claiming bite on my shoulder blade.

"I'm your trouble now," I smirked, relishing in all the attention my body was getting. The fingers that granted me sweet ecstasy at night a fresh memory in my mind, I relented my own urgent need in favour of repaying the man of my dreams for his troubles.

One smirk and my knees rested comfortably on the strangely soft floor of the shower. I came face to face with Tony's hard cock. It stood proudly, the flushed tip of it dripping - with water or pre-come, I didn't know, but was eager to find out.

"Fuck," Tony gasped, gazing down at me in astonishment as I tongued the slit of his cockhead. "You dirty little thing," He seemed to gather his wits quickly enough, bracing himself against the wall with one hand.

He was just about to find out how dirty, I decided. There was something satisfying on a purely primal level, seeing a powerful man absolutely losing it with his dick in my mouth. Rapidly, I swallowed as much of him as I could. His girth throbbed.

"Ruin me?" I popped off, resting my cheek against the hardness of it, tugging on his free hand to place it in my hair. My own arousal flared in response to his bewildered hunger.

Tony wasted no time in fisting a hand in my hair, carefully but firmly putting my mouth onto his cock. Inch after inch disappeared within my mouth; I was breathing through my nose as he slowly began fucking my mouth.

"Fuck, Jesus Christ, Princess, fuck," The mantra fell from his lips, echoing in the large room, mixing in with the water still pouring onto our bodies from above. The heat of it had nothing on the smouldering fire in my belly where it coiled tight and low. Tony's musk on my tongue, the firm hold on my hair. He truly held me, in body and in mind. There was nowhere else I'd rather be than on my knees for him.

I moaned around him causing a stutter in the moderate tempo. Our eyes met: his, wide and gleaming captured my own and I couldn't look away. With a wanton moan, Tony increased the pace, it quickly became brutal and punishing. I held onto his thighs for dear life, wordlessly pleading him to use my mouth for his own pleasure.

And he took it, shamelessly, emptying himself into my mouth with a groan that nearly made me come untouched. It was beautiful and I swallowed every drop of him, refusing to let the evidence of his bliss go to waste.

"Fuck," His voice was ragged.

I rested my cheek against his thick thigh, catching my breath. "Good?" Just to quickly be pulled to my feet, trapped between his hot, wet body and the chilly tiles of the nearest wall. The shiver that ran through me was only partially caused by the sudden change in temperature.

"You did so good, you're my good girl," He mumbled against my lips, sliding his tongue into my mouth without any restraint. His other hand slid between my legs, immediately toying with my clit. That and the hastily spoken praise coupled with the feverish way he was licking himself out of my mouth sent me over the edge, until I was falling, stumbling head-first into an ecstatic abyss.

"Mmm... Tony," Dreamily, I savoured the moment.

"Oh, we're back to first name basis?" He snarked, finally turning off the water.

Pliant as ever, I followed him out of the shower and into his walk-in closet where he pointed at a row of t-shirts and hoodies. I grinned mischievously as I took my pick. "Daddy?"

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