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d0llcuries · 2 months ago

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NOT SO MIGHTY WARRIOR

author's note: this is my first time writing an x reader fic so pls bear with my potentially odd/boring attempt at a oneshot. additional apologies if neteyam is out of character!! (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

pairing(s): neteyam x fem na'vi! reader

summary: in which you're his unexpected peace

you sat amidst a cluster of older gatherers without speaking a single word and occupied yourself with a new batch of obtained fruits and herbs. the older ladies sat with the younger and whispered happily about families and olden days. you were often in need of their comfort, as it was their calmness that steadied you and let you get on with your task at this unhurried pace. on the positive side, you felt, much as the young women loved the thrill of the chase and enjoyed being in swift movements and intense instincts of a hunter, your heart was always too tender for it.

you never liked the idea of pulling a bow and aiming for a target or stalking something simply for a meal and so you found your place amongst the gatherers of the clan. this was more subtle, a more sensitive role and you were quite happy in it.you looked and already there was a heap of gathered things next to your sitting body, a small assortment of bright colors — berries, medicinal herbs and soft-skinned fruits that you sorted according to their variety and ripeness.

the pattern of work was pleasant and you allowed yourself to be washed over by the soft babbling of the older women that surrounded you like a passing summer’s wind in the trees. this was a gentle and known moment, and you let yourself dissolve into it.

that was until you felt a shift, an unfamiliar energy entering the space.

you looked up, catching sight of neteyam walking toward the group. immediately, something felt off. he carried himself with the same grace and respect as always, his movements fluid and confident, but there was something in the way he held his shoulders, a tension you were not used to seeing in him. his jaw was tight, eyes sharp but distant, like he was working hard to stay composed.

neteyam was always the picture of poise—strong, responsible, steady—but today, there was a flicker of something else behind his usual calm. “good afternoon, everyone,” he greeted the group, his voice polite and measured as ever. the older women smiled, nodding in return, but neteyam’s gaze lingered on you. “pardon me.. but may i speak with you for a moment?”

his tone was respectful, but the urgency behind his words was clear. the older women exchanged knowing glances and waved you off with soft chuckles, murmuring something about young love. you felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks, quickly setting aside the basket you were sorting through before standing and nodding to him. “of course.”

he led you away from the group, deeper into the forest, his usual silence feeling heavier today. you followed, feeling the tension rolling off him in waves, his quiet frustration palpable in the way he moved. how odd, you thought, how odd that he asked to speak with her privately. young na'vi like you would kill for an opportunity like this, to be singled out by neteyam, the perfect warrior, the one everyone admired. perhaps you should consider yourself lucky, maybe even honored. so why did your stomach twist with nerves, your hands suddenly feel too still glued awkwardly to your sides?

when the trees opened into a small, sunlit clearing, he stopped, turning to face you, his chest rising and falling like he had been holding everything in for too long.

“lo’ak... he got into trouble again.” the words spilled out, heavy and filled with frustration. you were not surprised when neteyam mentioned lo’ak had gotten into trouble again. lo’ak was always the one to test boundaries, his spirit wild and untamed, always chasing something bigger. despite his good heart, he acted on impulse, never quite thinking about the consequences until it was too late. you couldn’t help but admire his courage, but it always left someone—usually neteyam—cleaning up the mess. his hands clenched at his sides, his tail flicking behind him in sharp, restless motions. the calm, collected neteyam you knew was cracking before you. “i had to take the blame, again. father... he did not even ask. it is always assumed that i will handle it, that i will fix things.”

his voice was tight, bitter even. you could see it now—how the weight of being the eldest, the responsible one, was grinding him down. she looked at him, and she hated to admit it—clearly, in his moment of frustration, she should be serious, should focus on his words rather than how his jaw clenched or how his muscles tensed beneath his skin. but she was just a girl, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore how attractive he was, even now. his eyes sharp with irritation, and yet all she could think about was how unfair it was that someone could look so good even when they were angry. it made her feel guilty, so she bit her bottom lip in order to prevent a lovesick smile grom graving her face.

“lo’ak acts without thinking. he never considers the consequences,” neteyam’s voice grew softer, yet edged with a bitterness you rarely heard. “and i have to step in. i have to clean it up, face my father’s disappointment. no one... no one asks how i feel about it.”

his eyes darkened, as though the words had finally been let loose after being caged for so long. he turned away from you, looking down at his hands, his fingers tightening into fists. oh brother.

so you might have had a crush on him—every girl did! he was neteyam, after all, with that effortless charm and strength that made hearts race without him even knowing it. but right now, he obviously needed advice, not you daydreaming about grabbing him and kissing that stupidly perfect face of his, as riveting as that might be for you. yet. no, now was the time to say something smart, to get it through his thick skull that he needed to relax, because carrying all of this weight on his shoulders wasn’t going to do him any favors in the long run. you stepped closer, your chest aching at the sight of him so burdened.

“neteyam,” you began, your voice soft, your eyes filled with warmth and understanding, “you do not always have to be the one to fix everything.” he looked back at you, his expression raw, searching your face as if waiting for you to tell him something different.

“but who else will?” he asked, his voice low and quiet. “if i do not, then...”

“it is not your job to bear all of this on your own,” you whispered, taking his hand gently in yours. his skin was warm, and it took everything in you to fight the squeal that threatened to rise forth from your throat at the mere fact that you were holding hands with the neteyam te suli tsyeyk’itan. “you are allowed to feel frustrated, to be angry. it is not fair for everyone to expect so much from you.”

neteyam’s breath hitched slightly, his ears twitching at your words. his eyes softened just a little, like the tight knot in his chest was loosening, if only by a fraction. “but lo’ak... he needs me.”

“he does, but that does not mean you have to sacrifice yourself,” you replied, stepping even closer, your hand still cradling his. “you are strong, neteyam. the strongest person i know. but even the strongest need someone to share the weight with.”

his gaze fell to the ground, his expression caught somewhere between exhaustion and relief. your words seemed to hang in the air, softening the edges of his frustration. he blinked, as though your touch and your voice had calmed the storm inside him. but then, as if realizing how much he had let himself unravel in front of you, a flicker of embarrassment crossed his face.

his tail gave a hesitant flick, curling slightly behind him, and he let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar, sheepish way. “i... i did not mean to unload like that,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, his gaze dropping to the space between you. he was embarrassed—mortified, even—by his outburst. imagine, a sully, future olo’eyktan, standing there venting about his brother’s reckless behavior to a... gatherer? someone who simply looked after tuk and collected herbs? it felt beneath him somehow, like he should be stronger, more composed. but as much as he tried to justify his shame, it wasn’t that simple. she was more than that, more than just a gatherer in his eyes. did he—did he have a crush on y/n? uh oh. maybe lo’ak had been right all along, teasing him about how often his thoughts wandered her way.

the violet hue of embarrassment tinted his cheeks, and you could see the faint quiver in his tail as it stilled behind him. “i am sorry i-”

you smiled gently, stepping closer, your hand still lightly resting on his arm. “no, do not apologize,” you said, your voice filled with warmth. “you do not have to be strong for me.”

he looked up at you, his amber eyes softening even more, the tension in his shoulders easing as he let your words wash over him. there was something so vulnerable in his gaze, something so open that it made your heart swell. the wind rustled through the trees, and in the quiet of the moment, you could feel the warmth between you growing, like an invisible thread connecting you.

and then, as if realizing just how close you were, neteyam’s eyes flickered over your face, and for the first time, he seemed to really see you—the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, catching in your hair, the soft curve of your lips, the gentle rise and fall of your chest. as neteyam began to relax, his gaze drifted to how beautiful she looked, the delicate beaded necklaces around her neck, each one crafted by her own careful fingers. her top woven from flower vines, had been a gift from her mother, and the way it sat gently against her skin was almost too captivating. oh, he really shouldn’t be looking there—his breath caught in his throat, his tail curling behind him in the faintest of twitches. “you are... beautiful.”

your breath stilled in your chest, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart racing at the softness in his voice, the way his eyes lingered on you. but before you could respond, he quickly looked away, clearly embarrassed by his own admission, his tail swishing behind him awkwardly. “i mean, uh... thank you for listening to me,” he stammered, clearing his throat, “you always know how to make things better.”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart full. “well,” you teased lightly, “it is my job to keep you from completely falling apart, is it not?”

his laugh was soft, but real this time, and the tension that had weighed him down seemed to lift a little more. and then, without missing a beat, you added, “perhaps, if you want to truly get your mind off things, you could take me for a ride on your ikran? i think it would be a fair trade after all that venting.”

his eyes lit up at the suggestion, his tail flicking behind him in excitement, but he quickly cleared his throat, trying to play it off coolly. “i suppose... that could be arranged,” he said, his voice trying to sound composed, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

you laughed, your heart swelling as you watched him slowly come back to himself. “then it is a deal,” you said, stepping back, your eyes twinkling with warmth.

word count: 1,694

if u have an criticism (constructive or not) feel free to voice it ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #avatar way of water #atwow #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam fluff #neteyam oneshot #neteyam drabble #d0llcuries stuff ꫂ ၴႅၴ

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radio-fmm · 8 months ago

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Love recipe

Sanji x gardener!reader

fluff!!!!!!!! Stablished relationship, gn reader, from my gardener!reader series but can be read as a stand alone, I recommend this

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: In which you find Sanji’s cook notebook

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

An endless sea of boxes filled your room in the Sunny, when had you accumulated so much stuff in your time with the strawhats? You didn’t know

You were the kind to keep everything, even the tiniest things held so much memories and meaning that you just couldn’t leave them behind

But you were starting to regret it

A week ago you and Sanji had finally decided to tell the crew that you were dating

After being met with all of your crewmates groans of defeat as they handed a couple berries to Nami you realized maybe you were a little more obvious than you thought

Regardless they were happy and a little relieved that you two had finally settled down

“So is the dumb cook finally moving out? We are tired of you leaving every night to our quarters,” Zoro was quick to ask you looking dead in your bashful eyes, red blush rushing to your face

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Sanji screamed at the swordsman in your defense

As much as you tried to brush the matter off or deny the accusations everyone had witnessed how at very ungodly hours of the night you’d slip into Sanjis bed to sleep soundly and turning back to your own at sunrise thinking no one noticed

“OR you can move in with us!” Your Captain chimed in but his idea was immediately shot down by your boyfriend

So he moved in your room, something you were happy about but right now, as you choose what to keep, throw away or store in boxes to make space for Sanji, was giving you a huge headache.

You sat cross legged in the middle of your floor between boxes looking like cat in hiding as Sanji walked in with a couple of more boxes in hand, settling them on the ground glancing at your form and smiling in endearment

“Almost done my love” he spoke up making you bend backwards and smiling at him

“Let me get up and help you with the rest”

“Absolutely not” something about you even lifting a finger in his presence always made him shiver, there was no way he was gonna allow you carry his heavy boxes, he knew you were capable, he just didn’t wanted you to

It was the third time you had offered to help him so you just gave up and giggled before returning to your task as the blonde went back to make yet another trip from the boys quarters to your room

You let out a defeated sigh as you finally finished up choosing everything that you decided to get rid off. As you got up with the box you tripped over the others that surrounded you making you lose balance, in an attempt to save yourself from a nasty fall, one of Sanjis boxes opened and some of his belongings scattered across the floor

“Dammit” carefully you place your box aside as you hastily take your boyfriend’s personal stuff and return them into the box, not wanting Sanji to think you were snooping round his personal belongings

As you delicately put his box aside, a notebook lays on the ground that you seemed to have missed to put away, you take it but instead of storing it, your hands explore the markings on the cover

‘Sanjis cookbook’ it read in his neat handwriting, you smile to yourself before slowly opening it, the notebook was well loved and you didn’t wanted it to break apart at your touch. The pages were filled with different recipes the cook had came up with during the years, it was sweet how noticeable was the change in his notes when he joined the strawhats, suddenly more intricate and lively dishes appearing on its pages. It was obvious how much he enjoyed being the crews cook, this was a trait of him you always had loved and admired. The cook had created dishes, drinks and pastries inspired by every crew member, some just being fun experimental ones, while others attended to their nutritional needs

Some really tasty meat recipes made for Luffy

An orangy strong drink for Nami

Boring rice-balls with a hint of sake for Zoro

Coffee infused pastries for Robin

Chicken a lá Soda for Franky

Taroyaki for Usopp

Sweet cotton candy for Chopper

Curry for Brook

Some of them with your name on it eventually show up but were all about either your diet or changing some ingredients up in meals you didn’t quite like or would upset your stomach, even your favorite vegetable soup was in there with a marking on it with your name. Expectancy bubbled in your stomach as you waited for dishes made not for you, but inspired by you to appear, but as you kept on reading the pages of everyone’s meals except yours a frown plastered on your lips

“Oh” you thought, maybe you weren’t good enough to be Sanji’s muse. Of course you knew he loved you endlessly, he would assure you everyday and you’ll see it in different ways he had to tell you ‘I love you’ without even speaking it.

The way he would patiently show you how to cut ingredients in the kitchen so you could help him and spend quality time, or the names he’d call you that sweetened your days, how he would always be on your call and foot for whatever you wished or needed, the dreamy look you’d spark on his eyes and even just the full on attention he’d offer you, as if you were the only thing in the world

But still, one would think you’ll at least have one dish dedicated to you after all the love he exuded in your presence

As you gave up and started to close the notebook, you saw a page near the end with your name on it, making your eyes grow wide in joy. You open it to find not a dish, but a whole different section of the notebook just for you, the cook had even drawn tiny hearts after your name

Pink dusted your face and a bright smile grew on your lips as you admired the dishes Sanji had crafted with such love and dedication, recognizing some of them and even remembering how he had asked you to taste test them in the past. You were moved, over the moon wasn’t enough of an expression to understand how you were feeling, no one had ever shown this much appreciation for you, small tears peaked at the corner of your eyes of the fullness you felt. How could you ever return such a gesture? Such love declaration that you didn’t even were supposed to know about?

You return the notebook to its rightful place before standing back on your feet and taking your box towards the door that slowly opened revealing your tall blonde handsome of a boyfriend with the last box

“Sorry it took so long sunlight, Luffy asked me for another snack and I ha-“ he was cut off by the biggest warmest hug he had ever received in his life, dropping the box as your hands found a spot on his neck and your lips pecked his before hiding your face in his neck, your feet tip toeing so you could reach

The action took Sanji by surprise, making him blush and stand frozen in place at your sudden affection that he still found difficult to come around, always being used to be the more affectionate one until you showed up and made him know how much loved he deserved back

“Is everything alright my love?”

“Yes darling, everything’s amazing”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Omg they’re back I’m so happy!!!! Hope you enjoy and remember you can request anything you wanna see about these two or just anything One Piece related technically

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lovelyatomicpeace · 2 months ago

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Guiding Light

Plot: Steve suddenly lost his father and doesn't know what to do, but luckily y/n is there for him.

Warnings: Sadness, crying, comfort, flashback

A little ff that I created from an idea that came to mind. Enjoy ❤️

As the sun began its slow descent behind the treetops of Hawkins, the air filled with the cool bite of autumn, Y/n ran down the familiar road toward Steve's house. His heart was pounding, not just from sprinting, but from the weight of urgency and grief. The news of her father's sudden death had reached her painfully, like broken glass on a marble floor with which she felt all too intimate.

Steve and his father had never had such a close bond. Their conversations were usually abrupt, punctuated by misunderstandings and the silent tension of unfulfilled expectations. Y/n had watched from afar, every argument and every harsh word exchanged between them etched pain in her heart. She knew Steve needed her now more than ever. As she reached the front steps of Steve's house, she hesitated for a fleeting moment. She could hear the sound of muffled voices inside: friends and family gathered, each carrying the weight of their grief. But that was the last thing he thought about as he stretched toward the doorbell. She was not there for pleasantries; she was there to be his anchor. The door opened and there appeared Steve, disheveled and pale, his brown eyes wide and glassy.

Before she could even formulate a greeting, he collapsed in her arms, the dam breaking as he sobbed into her shoulder. It was the kind of heartbreak that echoed in the pit of her stomach; she held him tighter, feeling his tears against her neck, the tremors of loss shaking them both.

"I can't..." he gasped between breaths.

Y/N tightened his grip, cradling him as he cried. "It's okay, Steve. I'm here," he whispered, in a calm voice as if he could channel his pain through words.

The usually cavernous house was now full of people: friends and familiar faces were scattered, hushed whispers mingled with the subdued background of soft music coming from the living room. Lucas sat with Max, their usual quarrels absent. Dustin was solemn, preoccupied with scraping a nonexistent splinter in the sofa. Robin and Nancy clutched each other, offering silent support, while Jonathan and Will exchanged glances that said much about the pain they shared. Mike sat off to the side, fingers intertwined with El's, both looking lost. As the commotion hummed slightly behind her, Y/N guided Steve into the living room, away from prying eyes. The light filtering through the drawn curtains cast shadows but also warmth; it felt like a cocoon, a safe space in which to share his vulnerabilities. Gently, she led him to the couch, where they sank together, the outside world temporarily forgotten: one of his knees resting on the floor as he bent over her. She ran her fingers through his hair, reassuring him, rooting him on.

"I couldn't even say goodbye to him," Steve said in a choked voice, wiping away tears with the back of his hand. "We had to make things right-it was my last chance, and I blew it."

"You didn't ruin anything, Steve," Y/N reassured him, in a firm voice. "You loved him, even with all the hard things. That's all that matters now."

"Yes, but it wasn't enough," he murmured, lowering his gaze to the floor. "He never understood me. My whole life has been a struggle for his approval that I never got."

"Sometimes people are just ... complicated. Your relationship was not easy, but you still meant a lot to him. You were his son," Y/N replied softly. "You showed him love in the ways you could."

"Why did he have to be such a jerk to me?" he croaked, wiping tears from her face with the back of her hand. "He was so consumed with his life that he never stopped to listen ... to understand anything about it." Y/n nodded, her heart aching. She had witnessed Steve's struggles, his attempts to gain acceptance and recognition from a father who had inadvertently rejected him. The loss of a parent was complex enough, but when mixed with unresolved feelings, it turned into something even more bitter.

Steve stood in front of her, lost, remembering his last argument with his dad:

It was one of those stormy afternoons when the thunder rumbling overhead echoed the tensions brewing in the Harrington mansion. A heavy downpour painted its chaos against the large windows, mirroring the struggle that was brewing between Steve and his father. The opulent surroundings of the estate looked like a gilded prison. Steve stood defiantly in the spacious living room, his muscles tense with anger.

"Dad, I'm not going to trade school! You can't make me!" shouted Steve, the resolve in his voice trembling to the edge of desperation.

His father, Robert, sat behind a polished mahogany desk, his fingers intertwined under his chin. The man was the epitome of success, a tycoon respected and feared in equal measure. "I can and I will, Steven. You don't even want to follow in my footsteps. You want to waste your life chasing ... what? You want still to work for a stupid video store? You're not cut out for that."

"I'm not cut out for it either!" spat Steve, gesturing to the room full of memorabilia, awards and an expectation he couldn't stand. "I hate your idea of success. You want me to be your perfect little clone, and I won't do it! I refuse to be part of your empire!"

Robert's eyes squinted, his voice deceptively calm. "There are choices in life that shape your future, Steve. You think you have it all figured out, but you're just a child playing at adulthood. I have sacrificed so much for this family; the least you can do is live up to the legacy."

"Sacrifice?" Steve's voice cracked, the weight of lost years overwhelming him. "You never sacrificed anything for me! You were too busy building your empire to notice me!"

"Do you think this is easy? Do you have any idea how hard I worked?" retorted Robert, rising from his chair, anger exploding. "Look at you, look at what you are! A failure! You're a disappointment!"

Disappointment. The word hung in the air, choking, as if it had just settled in Steve's chest. That word shattered something deep inside him, igniting a longing for freedom he had never known existed.

"That's not true!" he cried back, hot tears filling his eyes. "You've never even tried to understand me. All you care about is your image, your successes! I don't want any of that!"

"I am your father! I'm trying to prepare you for life, and this is what you do? You throw everything away for ... you for nothing?"

Steve seethed with anger and pain, the mix of emotions contending inside him until he could take no more. "You know what? Maybe I don't need you at all!" he shouted before running from the room, tears streaming freely down his cheeks.

As he left the mansion, the storm was equal to the turmoil in his heart. He rushed out into the rain, letting the deluge wash over him. He could not face his father, the anger swirling in his chest was a tangible entity demanding to be released. It felt like the beginning of the end, a farewell to a future he had not chosen...

Suddenly y/n's hand on his cheek brings him back to reality. Steve looked up, searching her face for answers, something she could not give. "What good is love without understanding?" The question remained there, charging the air with a melancholy that enveloped them like a fog. Silence fell between them, filled only by Steve's occasional quiet sobs. It was then that she reached out her hand, placing it on his knee, a gentle but firm gesture. "I'm not going anywhere, you know that, right? You're not alone in this." Y/N says felt a chill run through her. "It's the only love we have," she said softly, and it's still valid." A faint ghost of a smile ripped through his tears as he wiped his face with the cuffs of his sweater.

"But I don't want you to feel like you have to put on a brave face," she murmured, her heart pounding. "It's okay to be broken. You don't have to go through this alone."

"I feel so lost," he confessed, her voice broken again. "What do I do now?"

"Take it one day at a time," Y/N replied, her heart breaking for him. "You let yourself grieve. You let yourself feel everything: the anger, the sadness, even the joy of memories. And when you're ready, you can start to heal."

Steve looked at her, and for a moment the heaviness lightened, if only a little. "Thank you, Y/N," he said, in a firmer voice. "You always know what to say."

"Not always," he admitted, with a sweet smile on his lips. "Only when it's about you."

"What if I can't get over this?"

Y/N leaned closer, their knees brushing. "You will, Steve. Just like you fought for everything else. You have friends who care about you, who want to help you. Lean on us." He nodded, but uncertainty hovered in his eyes. The truth was stark; he was afraid.

After a few beats, it was his turn to unleash his feelings. "And ... you don't have to pretend with me," she murmured, "about your father or how you feel. This is a safe place, okay?" He inhaled sharply, studying her face. "What if I want to pretend everything is okay?"

"Then we can pretend together."

A moment passed; their gazes met, understanding flowed silently between them. It was a moment of connection that was full of hope, even in the midst of pain. Steve's brown eyes shone with a potential nuance: something unspoken that hovered beautifully in the air between them. They stayed like that for a while: an embrace, a clinging to each other's presence. Outside, the world continued to struggle with the weight of their shared loss, but in those moments, they both began to feel a glimmer of warmth; a reminder that in the deepest despair, the bonds of friendship could shine brightly enough to illuminate the path ahead, even if that path was shrouded in uncertainty.

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flowerbetweenfangs · 5 months ago

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Cream Filling: Chapter 10

This is the grand finale, folks. I hope you enjoy.

This is part of an ongoing series. To read the previous entry, go here!

Elle winced as her mattress hit the side of the building. The sound echoed across the morning air. A few curtains pulled back, or binds cracked as curious faces peered out of windows. Once they saw the boxes, they quickly closed again.

Crossing her arms, Elle looked up at Wrecks as he pulled. He’d dressed casually for the day, but even his black shirt was already soaked with sweat. His spectacles kept sliding down his nose, threatening to slip off.

“Sorry!” He called back, before giving the silken ropes another yank. The mattress slowly ascended upward, occasionally swinging toward a lower apartment balcony and swatting the backdoor. “I’ve almost got it!”

Hopefully her new neighbors weren’t too angry about the early activities.

“You sure it’s a good idea for him to be handling that all by himself?” Aki asked as he walked by with a few boxes in his arms. Their contents rattled and he smiled apologetically, tail thrashing around as he shifted to keep his balance. Despite his fur still being partially in the “winter coat” stage, he had elected to wear a pullover hooded sweater and sweatpants.

Resting his chin on the top box, he watched the drider with fascination.

“He insisted.” Elle pinched the bridge of her nose as the mattress hit a window on its way up, before finally sliding over her own balcony.

Hopefully, she would be able to enjoy some time in the new space, maybe set up some chairs or a few plants to make the space more liveable. Maybe see the sunset or sunrise on days off. It would be a good spot to charge crystals and any charms, should the need arise. But for now…

“You sure the healers cleared him?” Aki winced as something thumped inside the apartment.

“I don’t think it would have changed anything.” Elle looked the catboy up and down, before giving him a knowing look. “If I recall correctly, I’ve had to keep you away from the heavier stuff, too.”

“I’m not human, so I don’t adhere to your standards.” Aki stuck out his tongue, before he flitted into the building, attempting to keep his armful upright. Like with any other job, he was fast and efficient. He’d been eyeing the hefty boxes, claiming it would be okay if they both lifted, but she was sure he’d find a way to take most of the weight.

Following after him with a box of her own, Elle watched as he bobbed and weaved up the stairs, not missing a beat.

This was the start of the next chapter.

The morning air tasted great. It was chilly enough to not be miserable, but also warm enough to not need a jacket. The apartment complex was taller than the last one, a lot closer to the Mammon district, and the prices reflected it.

But she’d be closer to everyone.

Once inside, Elle pushed the door open. Boxes took up almost every spare space on the walls, and the pathway to move through the ever growing labyrinth was narrow, but it was bigger than her old place. And her new bedroom was actually a room with walls, rather than a dedicated space for her bed.

Wrecks was splayed out, arms and legs spread so wide they hung over the edges of the mattress. Panting, he propped himself up on an elbow and looked up at her, grinning ear to ear.

“See? Easy!” He panted and wiped sweat from his brow, the grin spreading wider.

The chitin on three of his legs was thinner and slightly discolored compared to the rest, but it would smooth out overtime. Apparently it would always remain marbled, a sign of the injury he’d faced and overcome. Despite bemoaning that it would make him appear far more battle hardened than he truly was, Wrecks still carried himself with pride.

“My hero.” Elle offered a hand, and he took it.

Hauling the Drider up into a sitting position, she gave him a bottle of water and a rag. He didn’t let go of her hand, and rested his cheek against the back of it. The gesture made the collar of his shirt bunch up, dipping low enough to show the bandages still stuck to his chest. Tinges of pink still clung to his skin, a stark contrast to the dark grey.

“You know, I need my hands to unpack.” She let him hold them anyway.

“Sorry.” His eyes flicked up to the ceiling. “I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to put a web in here…”

He rocked side to side, finally letting go of her hand and looking at the mess in the living room.

“Although I guess I can sleep on the couch.”

“I don’t have a couch,” Elle chuckled. Maybe she could buy one, but it wasn’t in the cards at the moment. The move had drained most of her savings, but once the season was out, she’d start to come out ahead by a large margin.

“Right… Tiny space.” Wrecks frowned, brows coming together. “Maybe I can get you one as a housewarming present…”

“What about these?” Elle went to a box in the corner and pulled out silken sheets, arching a brow at him. The color was a plain cream, but once it was spread out, there were complicated designs and images woven into the pattern. It was in the language of the Deep, so she wasn’t able to understand it, but Wrecks promised that it was just old myths and legends.

“I’m starting to think you’re giving me so much stuff because you like making it.”

She stuck out her tongue, and Wrecks gave a noncommittal shrug.

Horac’s footsteps were heavy as he approached with a clipboard, clicking a pen rhythmically.

“Make sure to pass this over to the landlords,” He used the pen to scratch at one of his tusks. “They’re going to nickel and dime you for every scratch and chip in the paint. Everything looks up to code, but I’d keep an eye on the heating unit when it gets cold and see about getting a portable heater in case things go sideways.”

“I appreciate it,” Elle gave a smile as she took the clipboard and glanced over everything.

“I’d still do another once over, just to make sure,” Horac grunted as he looked for a place to sit, before shrugging.

Definitely going to get a couch.

Elle set the clipboard on the counter and moved to unpack a few plates.

The landlords had placed a few flyers on the counters advertising local eateries in the Mammon district, where one meal probably cost more than an entire week’s pay at Ramses’ Brew. A pink banner ad showed a pair embracing, the woman throwing her head back as the man kissed her neck and collarbone.

“Come find me…”

It had been only a few weeks since the incident at Temptation, but it was already feeling like a lifetime ago. The news had simply listed the situation as an “act of dragon” which left a few injured, but thankfully no casualties.

Ash had been hamming up his condition, getting a lot of community support and adoration. Donations of all kinds had been funneled into the club, speeding up the repairs. He had kept true to his word and not contacted Elle since, but Cadence occasionally sent her a message.

The club would probably be open soon, with a party that would be talked about for years to come.

Elle could imagine that the incubus would be fed for a while even without their company.

“I don’t know about you,” Aki groaned as he sauntered into the kitchen. “But moving boxes around first thing in the morning works up an appetite.”

Pulling open the fridge door, he stared at the empty shelves expectantly. When no food magically appeared, he sighed and closed it.

“I could go for something to eat.” He looked around at the boxes and sighed, rubbing his face. “You only had a studio, how did you manage to get so much stuff ?”

“It just seems like a lot because we’re moving it around.” Elle could see Wrecks shuffling around in the mess, breaking down boxes and attempting to put things in their respective rooms.

“I’ve got food coming.” Elle assured him, checking her phone as it chirped. A small icon on a map blinked in and out, showing the delivery was on the way. “I tried to get something for everyone. Didn’t want to have you guys doing all this for nothing.”

At least it was cheaper than using a moving company, or worse, a teleportation spell.

“You don’t have to do that,” Horac waved a hand through the air dismissively, checking his phone. “I’m meeting up with the girls after this to have brunch and do the hand off. Their school’s got some career day coming up, or something. Apparently working as a cook for a Demon Prince is something everyone wants to hear about. Haven’t had time to breathe between everything that’s going on.”

“I’ll take his share, then.” Aki wrapped his arms around Elle and planted a wet kiss on her cheek with a wet smack. “My hero.”

Rolling her eyes, Elle slipped out of the hold. But she couldn’t help but smile.

“Thanks for everything.” She smiled at Horac. “It’s nice to have… Something of a dad around.”

Horac rolled his eyes and ruffled Elle’s hair with a massive hand, pulling it loose from its ponytail.

“Brush your teeth twice and behave yourself,” He snorted and double checked his phone as it chirped.

“Gotta go.”

As he shuffled out, Elle sighed. Even though he claimed he and Bea weren’t going to ever be romantically involved again, there was a lot more warmth and light when he spoke about her and his daughters.

“You’ve got brunch coming? I’ll order dinner, then.” Wrecks scuttled in, holding a shampoo bottle and shower pouf. “I know some human friendly restaurants nearby!”

“I’ll check online to see if I can find a few odds and ends you’re missing,” Aki rifled through a few boxes, checking their contents and shuffling things around. “Gotta make this place last a while, you know?” His brows shot up when he saw the contents of a box, before he mischievously chuckled, tail swishing back and forth.

“Hey, how come I didn’t see this set before?” He waggled his eyebrows at Elle, pulling up a still packaged lingerie set.

“I think I know what I’m going to set up for our ‘lunch’.”

Wrecks was suddenly behind Aki, who whirled around and flattened himself against the boxes. His eyes went wide as he stared up at the drider.

“Let’s focus on helping Shepard unpack, hm?” The two locked gazes for a moment, before Wrecks shook his head and scampered back to the bedroom.

Aki slid up to Elle as she started to put things away in the kitchen.

“Do you think you could possibly talk him into–”

Elle shot him a look, and Aki chuckled nervously, holding his hands up in surrender.

***

Once night had fallen, dinner was eaten, and the boxes were all unpacked, Elle collapsed onto her mattress. The act of pulling the blankets over herself seemed to be too much, so she sat in the dark, letting the cool air roll over her.

When she started to close her eyes, a knock echoed through the apartment.

Sitting up, she drug herself off the bed and walked to the front door. Peering through the peephole, she saw Ramses standing in the hallway.

Unlocking the door, she opened it.

“I’m sorry, I should have messaged you that I was coming over, but it got busy at the bar and–” He yelped when she pulled him inside.

“It’s also three am and I don’t want to wake up my new neighbors!” Elle hissed as she led him to the living room.

Ramses stumbled, quickly righting himself as he nearly tripped over a broken down box. Shaking his foot, he looked around for a place to sit, then stood up straight as possible. There was a loud rustling as he clutched a plastic bag protectively.

“I’m glad that your move went smoothly,” Ramses pointedly looked around, a slight hint of a frown as he took in the still remaining clutter. “And I hope you’re settling in well.”

“I had a lot of help.”

“Yes,” Ramses smirked, setting the bag down on the coffee table. “My morning staff. Maybe I could get Chorus in here to help finish the clean up.”

Going to the kitchen, Elle got him a glass of water. Ramses stared at it skeptically, before taking a sip. His eyes flicked to the advertisements for Temptation and he scowled.

“Has Asmodeus left you alone?”

“Yes.” Elle promised. “I hope he hasn’t been bothering you–”

Sighing, Ramses pinched the bridge of his nose. Muttering in Infernal, he set the glass down. A black handprint remained. Elle cringed, glad she had paid next to nothing for it.

“Our interactions have been limited, all things considered.” Ramses reached into his pocket and put on a pair of gloves before picking up the glass again. “But considering our positions, we’ll never truly be able to leave each other alone. I know once he reopens Temptation, I’ll have to go there as Mammon.”

His tongue flicked nervously across his bottom lip. After a pregnant pause, he cleared his throat.

“Speaking of, we’re meeting about that soon. Certain things have come to light, and the Princes want to come together and discuss plans moving forward.”

“Are you leaving for a while?” Elle tried to imagine all the Princes around a table or in a conference hall, arguing over one another. Asmodeus and Mammon glaring at one another, trying to take from and bait the other to do something.

Shaking his head, Ramses suddenly became very invested in his glass. Swirling around the liquid inside, he pondered over his next words.

“Yes, but I won’t be going alone. It could take a while. I have to take Chorus as my right hand. However, since I’m Mammon, Prince of Greed…” He reached a hand into the water. It shimmered as he pulled out a red piece of paper.

Power sparked, and the paper sizzled, the moisture quickly quelling any flames that would have formed. Ramses winced and palmed the ticket, smoke curling between his fingers.

“And this is why I hire people to do my work.” The corner of his lip twitched as he clutched the paper, before forcing his face to relax.

“Anyway, I’m allowed to invite more than I need.” Slowly, he unfurled his fingers and offered his hand to her.

Taking the ticket, Elle stared at the seven symbols on the edges. One for each Prince. Running a finger over them, she clutched the paper tightly.

“Why me?”

“Because I wanted to bring you.” Ramses winced at his words, holding up a hand as if he expected her to protest. “I wanted the rest of the Princes to know who you were to me. It’s an open invitation, no pressure to come. If you don’t, I’ll offer it to another member of the staff. But since you’re head server–”

“I’m the only full time server.” Staring at the ticket, Elle couldn’t help but smile. “Aki’s a floater.”

A new title? Hopefully it came with a pay rise. Although that likely meant that she was going to have to start shouldering more responsibility.

“Still the head.” Ramses ruffled her hair. The warmth radiating from him sent a tingle through her. “I figured after all you’ve done for the restaurant, it was the least I could do to show my appreciation.”

Elle turned the ticket over in her hands. All she’d done. That was certainly one way of putting everything that had happened in the time they’d spent together.

At least he viewed it fondly.

“So, it’s a date?”

“Only if you want it to be.” Ramses let her go and rubbed his eyes. Walking over to the coffee table, he went through the bag and pulled out a candle.

“By the way, this is your housewarming gift.”

Unscrewing the lid, he blew on the candle’s wick. There was a rush of heat, and a small flame flickered, lighting up the room. It looked like normal fire at first, but there was something slightly off about the color.

More power crackled through the air, humming softly. It softened, but there was still a faint sound.

“If you ever need me, just use this candle.” Ramses picked up the lid and snuffed the fire. “It doesn’t matter what time of day, or if the bar is open, or if you think it’s not important. I want you to feel safe, no matter what. Since you’re now technically in my domain, I want you under my protection.”

Elle stared at the candle, power still sparking above the wick. Smoke spiraled against the glass container, recoiling back when it collided with the walls.

“Thank you.” Taking it, she made sure to place it in the middle of the coffee table. “Do I have to be a dragon to light it?”

“No, just blow on it like you’re trying to put it out.” Ramses blew lightly, stirring a few papers on the table. “It registers breath, so an accidental wind or breeze won’t light it. And call my true name. I’ll be at your side one way or another.”

Closing the distance between them, Elle pulled Ramses into an embrace. He was scorching hot against her. Their warmths and breath mingled for a moment.

Arms encircled her waist, and Ramses let out a sigh. His breath was hot, filling the surrounding area with smoke and steam. It seemed to deflate his entire body, and he leaned against Elle.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally pulled back. Up close, it was easy to see his eyes were ringed with black and bloodshot. The wrinkles in his uniform, how his hair was messy and only pulled back, not brushed.

“Have you slept since Temptation?”

Ramses scratched the back of his head, giving a forced smile.

“That obvious, huh?” He rubbed his eyes as a few tears welled up. “I’ve been… Working a lot. I was preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. In case I’m not able to keep running the restaurant, I was making a line of succession. I’ve been looking to hire more night shift staff, and… Well, let’s say you will be the head server soon.”

Elle thought of ordering around underlings. She couldn’t see herself doing it. Aki, maybe. Or Horac. The boarman already seemed to be a manager.

“If you do have to leave…”

“I’ll make sure you’re all taken care of,” He promised, taking her face in his hands. For a moment, it seemed like he was going in for a kiss, but he rested his forehead against hers. “I promise. I’ll do what I can.”

She smiled, and shook her head.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay?”

Ramses nodded, pulling back again.

“Interviews will start in a week or so. I’ll go over the applications with you all to see what we can do, yeah?”

He looked ready to go into a long spiel, so slipped her hands between his and cupped the demon’s face, locking their gazes.

“I’ve got tomorrow off to finish setting up the apartment, why don’t you spend the night?”

Ramses looked around at the mess, then gave a quick nod.

“If my performance isn’t up to par,” he slipped off his vest and started to unbutton his shirt. “sorry–”

Elle put her hand on the back of his. “It doesn’t have to be anything like that.”

Ramses stared at her hand, then snorted.

“I still have to take a shower.”

Elle looked at his hands, then wondered how she was going to get the sludge out of the tub. Then again, it hadn’t been nearly as bad for the past couple of weeks. Maybe it got worse the longer he went without turning into his dragon form?

They went to the bathroom, with Ramses stripping down completely, although he kept his glasses on. There was a pink tint on his chest, but it had significantly faded. The glow over his heart was still bright as ever. Black scales still covered him, although noticeably less than before, shimmering in the dim light.

Once the shower started, Elle slipped out of her sweaty clothes and stepped behind Ramses. He seemed perplexed as his glasses fogged up, then pulled them off.

“You weren’t kidding, you’re really tired.” Elle gingerly took the glasses and opened the curtain to set them on the edge of the sink.

When she closed the curtain again, Ramses was leaning against the back wall, eyes closed.

“Why don’t we switch spots? That way you can at least get the worst of the funk off you.”

“Do I smell that bad?” Ramses lifted his arm and sniffed the pit. After a moment, he grimaced and looked around.

Picking up the shampoo bottle, Ramses’s nostrils flared, and he arched a brow.

“Why does this smell like a flower that’s been doused with funeral perfume?” He sniffed it a couple more times. “You’ve never smelled like this.”

“It was the cheapest one the store had,” Elle stuck out her tongue, embarrassed. “My usual stuff was out of stock. What kind do you get?”

“There’s a specific brand in the Satan district, if you can believe it. Very good for getting all sorts of things out of fabric and hair alike.”

It figured he’d probably get the expensive things.

“Well, I just have this, so…”

Rolling his eyes, Ramses let the water run over him. Black swirled in the water, and she could see thick black scales on his forearms and the back of his hands. The tips of his fingers tapered into claws, but it looked like they had been filed or trimmed down.

Taking the shampoo, Elle worked it into a lather in her palms, then started to scrub Ramses’ tresses. They were long and thick, and soft to the touch. A shine similar to oil remained on it. Although Elle wasn’t sure if that was because of grease or how it naturally looked.

Her fingers became tangled in the strands, but she resisted the urge to tug or yank them free. It took a few cycles to finally get through to the actual hair before it finally felt like she was cleaning. A few scales on the scalp were thick against her fingertips, but Ramses didn’t flinch or show pain when she scrubbed them.

Tilting his face toward the ceiling, Ramses gave her more access. His shoulders drooped, tension leaving his muscles.

“You still doing okay?”

“Yes. Although I think I’ll need some of that oil you used to fend off the concubi to make sure I don’t smell this the entire night. Maybe I’ll bring it in the next time I have to see Asmodeus.”

He seemed more pleased with the soap’s smell, although less than impressed with how watered down it was. Elle half expected him to break out in hives, but he remained stoic.

As she scrubbed his back, Ramses’ whole body shuddered.

Elle yanked her hand back, expecting to see a bruise or wound, but it looked normal, if a little sudsy.

“Did I do it too hard?”

Ramses shook his head. “Sorry, I just… I haven’t had this done for me in a very long time. I forgot what it was like to have someone at your back like this.”

Elle wrapped her arms around him, letting the shower run over their entangled forms. Ramses leaned into the water, bracing his hands against the wall. More inky black trickled down the tiles and into the tub.

Between the scales, she could start to see bits of his skin, soft and new. It wrinkled under the water, becoming raised and puffy. Ramses didn’t seem to mind, and brought his hands closer to the shower head. The bits of scales sloughed off completely, splashing as they fell.

Once it had started to run cold, Elle turned the knobs and got them both towels. Ramses was staring at his hands, perplexed by the soft skin that covered it now. Black droplets still welled, but it had lost most of its sheen.

It would be a pain to clean up the tub, but that could be done tomorrow. Elle wondered if there was a sort of line she could put down in the future that kept the drain uncovered, but shielded the rest of it.

Once they’d dried off, Elle sprayed down the sheets. Ramses raised another brow.

“It’s to protect them from… Stains.” She couldn’t hide her giggle. “I found it at a local market, usually it’s supposed to keep blood out, but the goblin running the stall swore that it was useful for all sorts of bodily fluids.”

Nodding at Ramses’ hands, she looked at the dirty towel as Ramses tossed it into the laundry basket. Those days were going to be interesting. But at least she had an in unit washer and dryer instead of having to haul it to the mat or down a bunch of stair flights.

“I see.” Ramses ran a hand over the sheets, then seemed satisfied when there were no streaks left behind. “Wrecks did a wonderful job with this.”

He stared down at his towel, then frowned.

“I don’t think I have anything that fits you, sorry.”

Shrugging, Ramses let the towel drop and sat on the foot of the mattress.

“We’ve seen each other naked plenty of times, although I think it’s best if you answer the door.” He fell backwards, arms spread, and stared up at the ceiling. Hair forming a ring around him, he let out a content sigh.

Slipping in next to him, Elle pulled him up the pillows and threw the comforter over them. He adjusted the position of his head multiple times, trying to make sure his horns wouldn’t rip through fabric, and finally seemed satisfied.

Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her chest between his shoulders and tangled their legs together. Resting her chin at the crook of his neck, she closed her eyes.

Ramses’ heart raced under her fingers, but his whole body relaxed at her touch. Within a few moments, his chest began to rise and fall with the rhythm of sleep.

The future was uncertain, but seemed brighter than ever.

Elle had so many paths in front of her. The restaurant might be her career, or a placeholder until she found something different. The staff might go in and out of her life, but they all had a camaraderie that couldn’t be denied. She just knew that no matter what, this feeling was one that she wanted to cling to. One of peace and belonging.

She never felt more filled with happiness and hope.

The possibilities were endless.

But for now, her focus was sleep.

#monster love #monster lover #monster x human #monster romance #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monsterfucker #terato #monster smut #cream filling

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girl-next-door-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Then There Was You

Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Summary: A chance encounter in an airport at a magical time of year might make a believer out of even the most logical of men.

Word Count: 2076 words

Prompt: Airport. Mutual Pining. Eyes meeting across the room. “You feel like home.”

A/N: This is the first of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to the wonderful @savvy-devine666 who put these prompts together for the enigmatic Mr Holmes. Hope you enjoy it, I may have got a little carried away.

************************************************************************

In the departure lounge, the holiday spirit is palpable, creating a lively and enchanting atmosphere. The glittering decorations and twinkling lights transform the space into a festive haven, immersing travelers in the magic of the season. As passengers navigate through the terminals, the air is infused with a sense of excitement and anticipation, each step bringing them closer to the warmth of family and the joy of holiday celebrations.

Sparkling lights, glittering ornaments and garlands filled with holly and tinsel seem to adorn every surface, forcing the joviality of the season upon all who enter this artificial winter wonderland.

The sounds of classic Christmas carols fill the air, creating a harmonious backdrop to the lively conversations and laughter. The departure lounge becomes a stage for a symphony of joy, where people from all walks of life unite in the shared celebration of the season. The place somehow feels more than just a transit point, it feels almost held outside of time itself, where anything could be possible.

Mycroft Holmes, ever the embodiment of control and authority, sat in the plush surroundings of the first-class lounge, a haven for the elite travelers. The atmosphere exudes sophistication, but the irritation on Mycroft's face betrayed the inconvenience he felt. The hum of quiet conversations and the clinking of glasses momentarily ceased as an announcement crackled over the speakers, signaling yet another delay.

His brow furrowed in annoyance. The delay was unacceptable, a disruption to the carefully orchestrated schedule he had in place. He retrieved his phone from the pocket of his impeccably tailored suit and began to type furiously. His fingers danced across the screen in a rapid and precise ballet, as if Mycroft believed his typing could somehow command the weather outside. His gaze never wavered from the device, as though the intensity of his focus could single-handedly rectify the situation.

The snowfall outside the window continued unabated, indifferent to Mycroft's attempts to influence it. Despite the annoyance etched on his face, Mycroft remained the epitome of composure. The delay might persist, but Mycroft Holmes, with his phone as a weapon and his ice-cold demeanour as a shield, was determined to restore order to the chaos, even if only within the confines of the first-class lounge.

Mycroft's discerning gaze swept across the crowded first-class lounge, his mind momentarily shifting from the pressing matters of flight delays to the intriguing spectacle of human interaction unfolding before him.

His attention settled on a peculiar scene: a man, who seemed to have overindulged a little at the lounge bar, engaged in rapid-fire conversation with a young woman who appeared young enough to be his daughter. She seemed uncomfortable with the invasive nature of his questioning, but the man appeared unperturbed by her avoiding answering.

Further down the bar, an elderly gentleman called the barman by his first name. Mycroft's keen observation suggested a regular patron, a man who had traversed the halls of this exclusive lounge on numerous occasions. The over-familiarity hinted at a sense of entitlement, a privilege earned through repeated visits, and he couldn’t help but smile at the deference the bar staff paid the man. Clearly a big tipper, Mycroft surmised.

As Mycroft continued to survey of the room, he noted that everyone appeared to be bathed in the fake joviality of the festive season, papering over the cracks in their lives, and Mycroft wondered why people felt the need to cling so desperately to the promise of hope and possibility during the festive season.

Mycroft, usually the embodiment of control and emotional detachment, found himself in the throes of an unexpected internal turmoil as he observed the attractive figure across the bar absentmindedly stirring their drink. The subtle shift in his composed demeanour betrayed a rare vulnerability, and an uncharacteristic ache in his chest stirred his emotions. In his mind, he grappled with the unfamiliarity of this emotional response.

Blinking rapidly, he attempted to shake off the unusual sensations and refocus his thoughts. This wasn't the Mycroft Holmes he knew; the man who thrived on logic and control. It had to be the effects of sitting in what amounted to an oversized festive snow globe for far too long.

Despite the internal turmoil, Mycroft couldn't resist the urge to deduce. It was a coping mechanism, a way to regain a semblance of control. Not married, not romantically attached: these deductions flowed effortlessly. The presence of a book in your bag and your apparent nonchalance about the flight delays intrigued him further. As he continued to observe from a distance, Mycroft found himself at a crossroads, torn between the familiar comfort of his calculated control and the allure of exploring beneath the surface, the possibility of creating a connection with someone who had unexpectedly captured his attention.

In that unguarded moment, just as Mycroft was contemplating the probability of instigating a conversation with you which would make him somehow favourable, your eyes met his. Time seemed to stand still as a profound shift occurred within him. The man who thrived on logic and science, the master of cause and effect, found himself inexplicably lost in the depths of an unfamiliar emotional landscape.

The carefully calculated moves in the chess game of life, the strategic thinking that defined Mycroft Holmes, dissipated like mist in the face of an unexpected connection. It was as if the world had momentarily slipped from the moorings of reason, and he was caught in the uncharted territory of raw, unfiltered emotion. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken possibilities, and Mycroft Holmes, the orchestrator of order, found himself suspended in the magic of a moment that defied the logic he held so dear.

As Mycroft was caught in the whirlwind of his own thoughts and emotions, unbeknownst to him, you had not been quite as passive as he believed. Upon entering the lounge, your attention had been immediately drawn to the striking man in the finely tailored suit. The ambient glow of twinkling fairy lights seemed to play upon his features, creating an aura of both mystery and sophistication. Your observant eyes didn't just see the meticulously groomed exterior; they delved deeper into the subtle expressions that danced across his face; stern, frustrated, yet undeniably captivating.

In the backdrop of the festive ambiance, you began to weave your own internal narrative, a fictional backstory for the handsome stranger engrossed in the world within his phone. The tapping fingers and furrowed brow sparked your imagination, and you found yourself concocting scenarios that might explain his intense focus. Perhaps he was a high-powered executive handling a critical business deal, his mind navigating the complexities of global affairs. Or maybe, he was a brilliant doctor, eager to get back to the hospital where he worked in order to save the lives of several orphans who had been in a horrific accident, him being the only one who could perform the surgery. The finely tailored suit hinted at a life of privilege and authority, but the flicker of frustration painted a more human portrait beneath the veneer of sophistication.

Your eyes met Mycroft's, and both of you instinctively looked away, a fleeting moment of embarrassment shared in the silence of the lounge. Yet, as if drawn by an unseen force, your eyes found each other again and a soft smile graced your lips.

Caught off guard by the unexpected warmth of the encounter, Mycroft returned your smile nervously. His usual calm exterior seemed to falter in the face of these unfamiliar feelings bubbling inside him, threatening to breach the carefully constructed walls of his emotional reserve. It was a sensation he wasn't accustomed to, and the vulnerability it brought unsettled him.

Your hand rose in a small wave, and Mycroft hesitated for a moment before reciprocating. This was ridiculous. He had faced the most powerful people in the world, had even given some of them a dressing down, he could walk to the end of the bar and strike up a conversation with an attractive stranger. Surely it wasn’t that difficult. Yet, here he was, feeling like a teenager with their first crush.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, he got to his feet and navigated his way towards you.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" Mycroft's voice betrayed a hint of vulnerability, a departure from the usual confidence that defined him. You, however, seemed not to notice his nerves.

"That would be lovely."

As the two of you engaged in slightly awkward small talk, there was a palpable tension in the air. Mycroft couldn't shake the feeling that he was not excelling in this arena, that the art of forging emotional connections eluded him. The potential for something wonderful lingered in the air, but he couldn't shake the sense that it was slipping through his fingers.

"So… are you headed home for Christmas?" Mycroft asked; a question he knew the answer to but felt compelled to inquire nonetheless. The conversation seemed to teeter perilously on the edge of uncertainty.

"Yes. I suppose so." You said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?"

"Well… home is such a strange concept. Somewhere can feel like home despite it being the first time you are there. People can feel like home. Not just family, not just the familiar. Have you ever been somewhere and felt like you have been there before? Like you are remembering a place you have never visited. Or met someone who just feels like they are new but also so familiar? Sorry, that took rather a strange turn. When people talk about home, they mean the place they come from, not some abstract concept." You gave him a bashful smile, clearly embarrassed by your ramblings.

The conversation had indeed taken a turn into the realms of introspection and philosophy and Mycroft found that delightful. As you spoke about the abstract nature of home and the peculiar familiarity one can feel with places and people, Mycroft found himself drawn to the depth of your thoughts, drawn to you.

For a moment, the awkwardness seemed to dissipate, and Mycroft discovered that he did indeed understand point of view.

"You feel like home," he said softly, the words escaping him before he could stop them.

"What?"

"I said, Yule feels like home. The time of the year. There is something about it that just feels…" Mycroft trailed off, the weight of his words hanging in the air. In that vulnerable admission, he revealed a layer of himself that rarely saw the light of day.

"It does. There is something so cozy about the festivities. You can't help but feel something magical could happen."

Your response held a warmth that echoed Mycroft's sentiment and he couldn’t help but think what his brother would say if he heard this conversation. There would be severe mocking, but Mycroft found he didn’t much care.

The moment between the two of you was abruptly shattered by an announcement over the lounge’s speaker, signaling the boarding call for passengers.

"Well… that's me." You rose from your seat, casting a bittersweet smile in Mycroft's direction. "It was lovely to meet you, Mycroft."

“You too.”

As you walked away, Mycroft's gaze lingered, and he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret. The encounter had been brief but had carried a weight of unexpected connection and shared sentiments. The lounge, once a stage for silent glances and meaningful conversation, now felt a bit emptier as you moved toward your departure gate.

The first-class lounge, adorned with holiday decorations and a twinkle of lights, returned to its bustling atmosphere as other passengers prepared for their journeys. Mycroft, still lost in thought, found himself contemplating the significance of the brief encounter and the unanswered questions that lingered in the air.

"What am I doing?" Mycroft muttered to himself, a sudden realisation propelling him to his feet. The urgency of his thoughts overrode any hesitation as he hurriedly headed after you. The encounter had left an impression, and he couldn't bear the idea of letting you simply walk out of his life.

The bustling atmosphere of the airport became a blur as Mycroft navigated through the crowd, his determined strides reflecting a sense of urgency that contrasted with his usual measured pace.

Mycroft reached your departure gate just in time to catch a glimpse of you preparing to board. With a breathless yet determined expression, he approached, the echoes of uncertainty and vulnerability replaced by a sense of purpose.

"Wait!”

#Mycroft Holmes #Mycroft Holmes x reader #Mycroft x reader #gndw fic #build a festive fic

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luimagines · 2 years ago

Note

I’m back again :)

Reader finds bunny Legend in the forest, I don’t know what he’s doing there or why he’s a bunny — brain cells are for history homework tonight, but they decide to attempt to befriend the cute pink rabbit. Legend just lets them (because he has a crush and doesn’t wanna admit that he likes them petting him).

Reader notices he’s slightly injured, small cut on the paw, it is bleeding a bit though, and very gently picks him up and takes him to camp. Because obviously the little bunny needs at least some bandages, can’t have it getting infected now can we?

And Legend is dying of embarrassment and maybe gets picked on later by Sky and Twilight.

- Glitter ✨

Bun bun. Let's gooooo!!!!

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

You weren’t intending on find anything in particular when you told the group that you were going to break off for a moment.

Between wanting some space and deciding to look around the area seem like a good idea at the time. You could defend yourself well and Wolfie hadn’t come back yet but Twilight did, and he said the place was clear. You could only assume that Wolfie was just hunting for a moment and will be back when he’s had his fill once more.

You were still on guard even when you just wanted to relax. The rustling in the bushes nearly got you to hack the poor plant in half before a something jumped out from it.

You paused.

The little creature didn’t seem to notice you. He rubbed his paws and rubbed his face and it was the cutest thing you swore you ever saw. You put your weapon away and watched the little bunny. Strange though, he was pink... and clothed.

“Aww.” The sound left you before you could stop it.

The bunny froze and looked up at you. You froze as well and stared back.

His little mouth opened. You crouched down and held your hand out. You never had such luck with bunnies but he looked so soft and sweet. You wondered if you could get him to come to you.

Hesitantly, he did!

He crawled forward and sniffed your hand. You tried to remain calm and confident. You didn’t want to scare his off now. Gently and slowly, you moved your fingers out. You managed to get a gentle sweep across his forehead before he placed his little bunny face into the palm of your hand.

You grinned and got onto to your knees to meet his height. “Oh aren’t you the sweetest little thing!”

You continued to pet him now that you’re sure that you’ve gotten permission. Enjoying your time with the soft fur, you tried to get closer. With enough patience, even if you’re not sure how you managed it, you got the bunny into your arms and begin to run your hands along his body.

“Oh I think I love you.” You coo. “Won’t you come home with me? You can live at my house where I’ll take good care of you and love on you every moment I can.”

You giggle and experiment with his paws. Surprisingly, he lets you grab them. Gently, of course. Until you brush over the pads on his front paw and he jerks. You freeze and apologize instantly.

But that’s a cause for concern.

“Sorry, buddy. Let me just get a look at this, ok?” You whisper, trying to keep the poor thing calm. You can feel his heart beating radically against your chest. He’s scared. Poor thing. He must think you’re going to hurt him.

You whine and pick up the paw, careful not to touch the same spot as before. You see it just he rips it back to himself. A small cut, blooming with red that nearly goes hidden against the pink fur that surrounds it.

You gasp. “Oh you’re hurt! Ohh...Oh no... Ok, buddy. Let’s see if we can fix you up.”

You carry him in your arms and stand. Trying to keep him as calm and comfortable as possible, you don’t look up to see the faces of the boys around you as you regroup with them.

“What happened?” Wind asks as you begin to rifle through the medical bag. “Where did you find him?”

“I ran into him while I was exploring.” You explain, taking out the gauze and disinfectant with one hand as you speak. “He has a cut on his paw. I’m going to take care of it the best I can. Rabbits can have a lot of things go wrong so I want to give him his best chance.”

The rabbit squirms a bit in your hold but you hold on tighter. “I know buddy, I know. You won’t like this. But I’ll be fast and then you can go on your merry way just like before.”

“Can I pet it?” Wind asks quietly.

You pause and hum. “Maybe not. I don’t want to make things too stressful for little guy. He’s surprisingly well behaved though. the rabbits back home would have never let me do this. So I want to be quick.”

“And what do we have here?” Time says to your left, having also come back from wherever he went to.

“A bunny.” You reply as you dab the little spot on his paw. As expected, the bunny squirms in your hold but doesn’t actively try to leave. Weird, you think. But maybe he knows you’re trying to help him.

Something clicks in your head then. “Time, can I keep him?”

Twilight, who was watching this entire time, starts choking on his drink. He starts to laugh but it only send the liquid flying through his nose. It looks painful and he reacts as such.

Time looks at you, ignoring his descendent. He crosses and his arms and raises an eyebrow. He looks amused. “I don’t think so.”

“Please?” You ask again. “Please? Please? I’ll look after him! look at how cute he is! How can you say no that that face!”

The rabbit for his part bends his ears back and pins them down. He tries to burrow down into the side of your arm where it would successfully hide his face from the view of others.

“Wild has Wolfie!” You try to defend before Time can respond to your earlier pleas. “How is that any different?”

“Wolfie can come and go as he pleases.” Twilight smirks, more amused than you think is necessary for this. “Can this bunny do that? I don’t think that’s what you’re asking.”

“Stay out of this Twilight. I’m not asking you.” You stick your tongue out and glare at him. You turn on your best puppy eyes and look at Time. “He’s hurt too! We can let an innocent creature go out while he’s hurt! It could get worse!”

Sky snorts and you turn to him but he’s not looking at you. Weird, you think again. That’s a strange reaction.

Before anyone else can talk, the rabbit leaps from your arms and dashes away into the woods. You cry out and jump to your feet but he’s gone before you can take a step. “Twilight, I blame you.”

“Wha- What did I do!?”

“I don’t know but it’s your fault.” You stomp your feet.

Time laughs and pats your shoulders. “It’s ok. I doubt he would have been able to stay for long regardless.”

You pout but have to agree with him on the basic fundamentals. Sky gets up as well and walks calmly into the forest in the direction of the bunny.

“I’ll be back.” He says, taking the Master Sword with him. Twilight follows and Time allows it.

You huff and puff and really are just trying to deal with your disappointment in anyway that doesn’t actually end in tears. It’s dumb and you know it but you think you fell in love with he little guy despite only being near him for ten minutes tops.

“Hey guys...” Legend comes back. He had left before you did and he’s all red in the face now. He raises his hand in greeting and you gasp.

He has a slice down his palm. Another person injured today.

“Legend!” You cry out and run to him. “What one earth happened? Does it hurt? Come here! Before it gets infected.”

You pull him over and down, not to dissimilar to how you yourself were sitting on seconds prior. Legend’s face gets a bit pinker but you blame it on the fact that he caught red handed. Literally.

You just thank the stars that you already had to tools out.

“Honestly Legend, what are we going to do with you?” You sighs and shake your head. Twilight and Sky come back to the camp with knowing smirks.

Legend elects to ignore them while you’re too focused on making sure his hand in properly bandaged. You may not have been able to help the bunny but you can certainly help your friend.

Besides you’d take Legend over the rabbit any day. He’s cuter.

#linked universe #lu legend #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #omg glitter #I'm only now realize you sent in so many ^.^*#i feel bad #I told some people that they had a limit #and yet #you send in like 3 times that amount #not that it's a problem #but maybe for the future let's limit it to three per person #last post of the year!!#woo!!

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lollipencil · 1 year ago

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Locked Heart

Who fancies some emotional whump? :) This is my first time writing stuff like this, hope I do ok. Enjoy and be gentle

---

Jake Lockley was heartless. Had known this for a long time. There was a time, in the beginning, when he wasn't. When warmth had filled his chest when he watched Steven go about his day, when Marc managed a decent day all by himself. Over time, it faded away.

Now, there was only the emptiness. And the rage that comes when someone tries to hurt them.

What this meant hadn't been entirely clear to Jake until the body managed to die. Trapped in a tight, dark space. Calling out endlessly for the two people who never came for him. Stuck until life was returned to the body.

The heart was a piece of the soul after all. Steven and Marc had began to enter the afterlife because they had theirs. That tight darkness was all that awaiting Jake when the time would come.

So, when Khonshu made his offer, he jumped for it. "They'll be safe," he thought to himself, "They won't suffer anymore if I do this." "And maybe," a tiny part of him dared to hope, "Just maybe, I can get my heart back."

---

Numbly, Jake knelt in headspace. They had done it. In truth, Jake wasn't sure why he was so surprised. While Steven and Marc had butted heads when Steven had found out, the things Marc had done weren't as bad as what Jake had.

Marc had never fronted just to kill then leave them still at the scene, fresh blood still warm on their hands. Had never left them in the middle of a complicated driving manoeuvre. Had never betrayed them by staying with Khonshu after they had both said no more.

Every time Jake came up towards the front, something would happen. Words would fly like blades, or someone would come at them with an actual blade, and things would just escalate. Not that it was all bad, though. "Thanks for the Alps," Steven had said when he figured it out, "Sorry, I got us in a bit of a pickle." Jake didn't say anything, but the emptyness seemed to lift just a bit. Hell, Marc had even smiled at him once!

But now it would never leave. Because they had managed to severe Khonshu from them all.

Jake blinked as he thought long and hard. Without Khonshu, they wouldn't be in those sorts of situtions (the only other reason Jake came out). Marc and Steven could take care of themselves and had shown this to be fact multiple times. Jake Lockley was no longer needed.

So, he did the only thing that made sense. He curled up in the small "room" that was his, and waited.

---

Marc was really starting to get ticked off with Jake.

It had been nearly three weeks and he was still pouting about Khonshu. Ignoring all their attempts to communicate with him. Even fiddling with his car did nothing to stir him.

"This is getting ridiculous!" he hissed one morning with no sign of Jake. "Maybe he's stuck," Steven worried past his own frustration, "Our head is probably a bit..." "Haunted?" "Endless," the more Steven mulled it over, the more anxious he got, "Maybe he can't find his way out." "Calm down," Marc sighed, "Look, I'll find him, ok? You hold up the fort."

While still unnerving to look at, headspace was starting to look better. White walls tinting slowly to real colour. Not that Marc was there to admire the place. No, he strode forward like a train, unstoppable towards his destination.

Did he know where? No. But onward his feet carried him. Around corners and down identical hallways until he reached a door.

A single door, the window painted over in black, handle rusty and disused. But, as Marc discovered, still usable. If smell existed in headspace, Marc would say it likely stank of decay. The walls were just as dark as the window. Water dripped in the one free corner of the room. The rest that was unocupied by the door was filled by a familar sarcophagus, although the lid was missing. Jake was sitting inside, staring at the wall.

"What are you doing?" the planned aggression had fled Marc's voice at the conditions Jake was "living" in. "I am where I belong," Jake's answer was almost unaudible. "Did Khonshu tell you that?" Marc asked firmly, righteous fury finding its way back home. Jake laughed bitterly. "Not everything is about him." "Then what is this about, Jake!"

"Me. It's-it's always been me. When I first, appeared, I could feel. Happiness when Steven was reading his books over and over, relief when she didn't bother either of you. I could care. Then, one day, I notice that I couldn't. Steven would read, I'd feel nothing. You'd be okay, I'd feel nothing. When Dad managed to finally set aside time for you, I couldn't feel anything! The only time I could feel anything but hollowness, was when the other kids or she would pick on you both. For years, I only had anger and no answers as to why. I still did what I could for you both, only took the time I was needed, but nothing changed. When the body died, I finally found my answer."

Dread brushed up and down Marc's spine. "I was stuck. All around me was unyeilding darkness, but I could hear somewhat. You both. I called out, pushed against it. But you never heard me. Only once the body breathed again was I free. And from there, I pieced it together. Somehow, I lost my heart all those years ago. That is all that awaits me after. In truth, part of me made that deal with the bird because, well, if anyone could find my heart, it would be him. He seemed to like me enough after all."

Jake somehow grew even more solemn: "Doesn't matter. He's gone. You and Steven will never be in harm's way now. My purpose has been fulfilled. This is my world now until the body dies or my soul realises and fades away. I won't interfere with your lives anymore. Just go and be happy." And Jake, legs still curled into his chest, lay down and said no more.

Marc stood there. Screaming so deep inside that headspace couldn't show it. That couldn't be true. He had seen the sarcophagus, the same one he was currently looking at, Steven had too. They had both heard him. And they both walked away.

Numbly, Marc left headspace. Steven was watching a documentory, idly noting the inaccuracies before he noticed Marc. "Heya mate, you find him?" "Can I have the body?" "What's wrong?" "I have no idea," Marc swallowed a sob, "I don't even know if we can fix this." "Marc, you're starting to scare me," Steven whispered, hand absently cluching his heart. "I know. I know somethign that might help, but I need the body, just for a minute. After that, I'll tell you."

Steven handed it over, watching anxiously as Marc dialed Layla's number. "Hi baby," he said, the aura of sadness still in his voice, "I need to ask a favour. Of Taweret."

---

Jake blinked to find himself in front, tucked up with a blanket over the legs. Sitting on a nearby chair, was a bipedal hippo who jumped up at his gaze. "Oh! Hi, you must be Jake!" the hippo chirped. "Si, I am." "I'm Taweret, I've been asked to talk to you for a bit." "Ok."

Taweret seemed off-footed by his anwsers. "Well, you see," she carried on, "I've been told some...stuff that is a bit concerning." "Shouldn't you be talking to Layla about this?" or Marc and Steven Jake added mentally. "...It's about you," she admitted softly, features sculpted into a gentle frown, "I've been told that...you believe that you lack a heart. I wanted to ask, why?"

Jake sighed deeply. "I haven't felt anything but rage since the body was still in single digits," he explained, pointing at his chest "And when the body died, I wasn't with them." Taweret frowned harder, troubled. "I've never heard of this happening, may I feel? See if anything can be done?" "Sure," Jake whispered.

It was strange. Seeing her hand vanish into his chest with nothing but a golden shimmer. "At least, no one else will know what this is like," he mused when an odd feeling came over him. "Oh!" Taweret soft exchlaimed before withdrawing her hand.

Something was inside her hand. Jake could see it but couldn't believe it. Couldn't dare hope. In Taweret's hand, glowing bright gold, was a heart.

"What?" Jake stared blankly. "I knew it," Marc's voice suddenly appeared, steady as a rock, "I knew it was still there."9 "But," Jake couldn't understand, "I was alone when we died. Nothing but darkness and entrapment." "Yeah, so was Steven until I let him out," Marc admitted gently, "We heard you, it's just, the moment we stopped looking at where you were stuck, we forgot." "It was my fault," Taweret's voice dragged Jake back into the outside world, "I knew that I was dealing with more than one soul. Why didn't I check if there was more than two?!"

It didn't make sense. "But I can't feel anything!" Jake asked desperately, "How else can that happen?!" "Well," Steven piped up soothingly, "It's usually not recomended to google symptoms, but I did. Jake, feeling hollow or empty is a common sign of depression."

Oh.

Jake stared again at his heart. Glowing gold crystal but real. Shaking hands took it from Taweret, who smiled apologetically, before pressing it back into his chest. Nothing still. But it was there. "We're so sorry," Marc breathed into their head.

"What do I do now?" Jake asked back. "We live," Steven said firmly, "together. You don't have to hide anymore, and we'll find a way to help. You'll be ok." "You'll be ok," parroted Marc.

Looking at Taweret's slight smile and at the flat with visible gaps in the shelves, Jake found himself beliveing it. "We'll be ok."

#my fics #moon knight (2022)#jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #taweret

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of-light-and-shadow · 5 months ago

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𝓐 𝓕𝓮𝓵-𝓣𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼 World of Warcraft OCxOC Action/Adventure/Romance/Hurt/Comfort Short Story

"See the stars? I made a wish on one, and I got you." -Unknown

The evening is peaceful and serene. Lately, Vela has found herself enjoying these quiet moments more and more. As she tidies up the kitchen, humming contently, she sets aside a bowl of dinner for her husband Keth'ys when he returns from his night out with Enkeadu. The thought brings a smile to her face; her friend truly is blessed. Despite the unexpected turn of events and the suddenness of finding his daughter, Enk now has a precious little girl in his life who is already so loved and cherished by all around her.

A part of Vela can't help but feel envious.

Her shoulders slump and her hands grip the fabric of her dress tightly as she shakes her head. They've talked about it before, or at least they've mentioned it in passing. But the one time she brought it up to Keth'ys, it was clear that he didn't want to discuss it further. The front door slides open, breaking Vela out of her reverie. A smile spreads across her face as she watches her husband enter, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on a nearby chair. He immediately wraps his arms around her, kneeling down so they can embrace comfortably. She buries her face in his neck and he hums softly, making her feel safe and loved.

"Did you have a good evening?" She asks as she pulls away, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek before scurrying back to the bowl she had set aside for him. He watches her closely as she turns to present it to him, curiosity evident in his eyes as the light from the hearth catches the jewelry on his horns. "Keth'ys?"

He blinks and nods, standing to his full height before crossing the space between them. Vela squeaks in surprise as he picks her up again, quickly discarding the bowl onto a nearby table before carrying her to his chair nearby. The warmth of the fire fills her as she settles into her husband's embrace, running her hands through strands of his loose hair.

"Is everything alright?"

It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking, "Do you still want children?"

Out of all the things he could have brought up, this certainly catches Vela off-guard. She stumbles over her words for a moment, struggling to come up with an answer while he looks at her with such seriousness that it makes her anxious. So she does what she does best and dodges the question.

“So Enkeadu told you then?” She tries to play off her nervousness with a smile as he nods. “Isn’t it exciting? We’ll have to host a party to celebrate. Once the contractors are done with the addition on the house of course. I don’t want to risk the little one getting hurt with all that work getting done. Oh, I never asked Enk her name, you didn’t happen to ask did you?”

She knows she's rambling now, and so does he. Keth’ys pulls her closer, tightening his embrace. “You didn't answer my question,” he reminds her.

Vela glances away, feeling uneasy. "Neither did you," she counters.

He hums sardonically, “I think my question is a bit more important, aye?”

She tries to stand up from his lap, but he tightens his grip as if he won't let her go. Eventually, he loosens his hold and allows her to flee back into the kitchen. Vela busies herself with cleaning the already spotless counter in an attempt to distract herself. She freezes when she feels Keth'ys standing behind her, his shadow looming over her. His hands reach around her, fingers entwining with hers, keeping them still. He rests his head on her shoulder, and she can't help but lean into the familiar warmth of his embrace.

"Vela, do you still want children?" he asks.

She knows she can't escape now. He won't let her until she gives him an honest answer. She hesitates before responding, "We've already discussed this, haven't we? It's a complicated decision, considering all the potential risks—"

"Me avoiding the topic does not make it a discussion," Keth'ys interrupts calmly. "Please, just answer my question. Take away all the external factors and risks: Do you still want to have children with me?"

It pains her to admit: "I don't know..."

"Why?" A simple question, and he doesn't sound angry or disappointed. But for some reason, even saying something as simple as "I don't know" brings her to the brink of tears. He leads her to sit on his lap as they move to the floor, holding her close as she tries to stop crying.

"It's for the best, right?" She’s not sure if she’s trying to convince herself just as much as him. "I mean, what do I really know about being a mother? My own was killed when I was born, and the woman who raised me tried to force me into marriage with a monster. I have no idea how to be a good mother, and who knows if I would end up harming my own child because of that?"

She's trying not to sob, but tears still fall down her face. Keth'ys holds her tighter and wipes away her tears with his thumb. "If you think for one moment that you wouldn't be a good mother, you are much more foolish than I ever thought." He kisses away each tear and speaks softly, "You, my beautiful wife, who is kinder and more caring than this world deserves? You who selflessly puts yourself in harm's way to protect others. The same woman who would give everything she has to a friend in need without a second thought."

He takes her by the chin, tilts her head up, the fel fire in his eyes blazing brightly, “That you still think so little of yourself after all this time? It pains me, my love.”

Vela manages a small smile through her tears and buries her face in his chest as he runs his fingers through her hair. She fiddles with the fabric of his shirt as they share a comforting silence until she finally asks the burning question in her mind: "Why are we suddenly talking about children now?" She adds softly, "You never seemed too interested before."

“That’s true,” He admits, “But that was all before you.”

She looks up at him, seeing his gaze fixed on the distant wall as he deep in thought. "Before you, I didn't care about anything really. Every night was filled with drinking until I could forget and pass out. Injecting myself with who knows what just to chase any kind of buzz. I didn't care if I lived, let alone about having kids. You changed all of that."

He turns to look back at her, a soft smile on his face as he tilts her head up to meet his gaze again. There's a mischievous glint in his eye that makes her blush. "Remember when you screamed my name so pretty for me for the first time?" He whispers, his voice dripping in absolute sin. In an instant, Vela finds herself on her back, Keth'ys looming over her with his black hair cascading around them like a curtain. She nods, feeling breathless as one hand trails down her waist and rests on her hips, gripping the fabric of her dress.

"That night, you fell asleep in my arms. And when I woke up with you still sleeping next to me, it was the first time I felt like my life was truly worth living, and getting to marry you was more than I could ever ask for." He pauses, his expression becoming more serious. "How could I possibly ask for children when I've done so many terrible things? I've taken innocent lives and enjoyed causing pain. How could a monster like me deserve the blessing of children?"

Vela lets out a soft chuckle, "Look at us now, both full of insecurities." She reaches for his hand and entwines her fingers with his, pulling him closer as she shifts her legs to wrap around his waist. Her other hand traces patterns on his shirt, teasingly moving towards the hem tucked into his trousers. "Well luckily, we'll be raising this child together."

Keth'ys lets out a low growl as he tugs up the hem of her dress, a desperate look in his eyes. "Say it then, tell me what you want."

She laughs nervously but with pure joy as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, burns herself on the fel fire she tastes on his kiss. "I want a baby, Keth'ys. With you and only you."

He nicks her lip with one of his fangs as he chuckles, "Anything for you, my love. Always."

#my writing #wow rp #world of warcraft rp #blood elf #wow oc #world of warcraft #he's a demon hunter so it technically counts?#monster boyfriend #slightly spicy #ya'll ever had something happen in RP that you have to write about INSTANTLY #Yeah its this

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argothiathedreamer · 2 years ago

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Rating: Teen and Up Summary: Tim goes back in time to avert the end of the universe, but things quickly go awry and he's left with an important decision to make: Carry through with the plan as he originally intended; Or make a risky play to change things for the better. Argothia's Notes: Promised myself I'd start posting the Still Breathing Rewrite on my birthday whether I had a massive buffer or a teensy one, as it turns out I've got a decent one. Enjoy!

---

How could things go so bad so quickly?

Twenty-four hours ago everything was business as usual. Twenty-four hours ago, everyone was alive. Now? Now, Tim and Jason are the only ones left. The last of their family hiding out in a derelict building from a Joker who’s somehow become a nearly omnipotent monster. Everyone’s dead. All of them. A thought that’s bringing Tim closer and closer to a complete breakdown with every second that passes. He’s trying to fight it, he doesn’t want to do that to Jason, who’s already at his wits’ end, but…

Dammit, this can’t be happening. Why is this happening?

Tim runs a hand through his hair as he sits down on a crate and just breathes. Forcing down the hysterical sobs that want to rip apart his composure. God, he was just sitting on the couch in the manor with all of them two days ago. He can’t remember what the last thing he said to any of them was. Can’t remember if he gave them a hug before he left. When was the last time he’d told them he loved them? Fuck.

He curls in on himself pulling the jacket Jason had given him that morning closer around his shoulders. How can this be happening? How can they all be… How can he be losing another family like this? It’s all so fucking wrong. This is--

A rustle of fabric and the rattle of a gun makes Tim look up quick and he can only stare in surprise at the sight before him. Jason has one of his guns pointed directly at Klarion’s head. All things considered, Klarion doesn’t seem particularly perturbed by this situation. He just places a finger on the muzzle of the gun and turns it away from his face. “Honestly, I would appreciate you not attempting to shoot at me. After all, I didn’t come here to injure you with your own damned weaponry.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” Jason snaps, irritable and tired. So tired. Still he does lower the gun without arguing.

Klarion smirks as Teekl jumps down from his shoulders and slinks over to Tim. “I didn’t come here for you at all. Teekl has something of a fondness for Tim, so we decided to come to the rescue. Think of me as your chaotic savior, here to do all I can to rid us of our mutual problem.”

“Great. Then why don’t you just zap the motherfucker into space and let him die, already?” Jason grumbles, holstering is gun and leaning, sullenly, against the nearest wall.

That only gets him a deeply unimpressed look from Klarion, who responds, “If I could have done that I would have already. You severely overestimate the capabilities of magic and underestimate the power of our foe. Not surprising honestly, he has been taking his sweet time. If anyone else had found that damned thing we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“What do you mean?” Tim finally finds his voice, hollow and strained as it sounds to his own ear. “Do you know what happened to to Joker?”

With a sharp laugh, Klarion nods. “Oh yes. You would too, but for the nature of the beast.”

“Just cut the cagey shit and fill us in already,” Jason growls, obviously growing short on patience. Tim can’t really blame him. Klarion can be a pain in the ass to deal with on the best of days.

Klarion raises an eyebrow slightly, but deigns to explain nonetheless. “It doesn’t have a name, but it is an immensely powerful and ancient, magic weapon. Supposedly it was created to destroy what it deems to be redundant universes by granting godlike powers to those who meet certain qualifications.”

“And Joker meets those qualifications?” Tim asks.

“Probably.” Klarion shrugs. “I never bothered to learn them for myself. A dead universe wouldn’t be much fun to play in after all. Regardless, thanks to its power, I can’t even begin to use my magic against Joker. That’s why I’m here. To offer my assistance to you.”

“Sounds like there’s not much you can do, blue boy.” Jason pauses, turns to look at Tim with a look on his face that Tim’s not real sure about. “Unless I’m missing something?”

Tim grimaces, allowing himself to absently scratch Teekl behind the ears, which feels a little weird knowing they’re not a real cat, but it’s comforting nonetheless. “There might be one way, but… it’s not exactly a good one.”

“Good isn’t what I do anyhow, so do tell.” The grin that spreads across Klarion’s face is more than a little unnerving.

“We need…” Tim hesitates, glancing at Jason. “We need to go back in time… and kill the Joker.”

“Delightful!” Klarion croons and Teekl lets out a purr that makes Tim’s stomach turn.

Jason is already shaking his head though. “Baby bird, you know I’m always down for killing Joker, but… messing with fucking time travel? That shit never goes the way you want it to.”

“I know.” Tim agrees. He’s well aware of the risks, having met two future versions of himself who were both murderous assholes despite his vows to change that future. “But as it stands I can’t think of any other way to stop this. If Klarion’s right--”

“I am.”

“-- then what are we supposed to do on our own, Jay? Even Clark couldn’t stand up to that monster! He’s just going to keep hunting us down like it’s some sick game until he gets bored and finishes us off. It’s hopeless right now, but… two months ago? When we know where Joker would be? Where we know what to do? We can stop all of this from ever happening.”

“And then what?” Jason gestures, angrily, with on hand. “Bam! Kill the Joker. Then what, kid?”

Tim stares back at Jason, levelly, because they both know what would need to happen after that, but neither of them really want to voice it.

“Besides—” Jason avoids Tim’s gaze. “—Isn’t the universe fucked anyway? Even if we kill Joker, some other fucker will just grab the artifact and that’s it for the universe. If we’re so determined to go back and bust something, why not the damn thing itself? I mean if it’s not even supposed to exist in the world it shouldn’t cause a problem, right? So why don’t we do that?”

That’s Jason for you always asking the exact right questions, but any hope Tim had that Jason could be right disappears when Klarion giggles. “Are you serious? Honestly, don’t make me laugh. It has the power to grant someone all the abilities of a god and you think you can destroy it? You’d never even find it. You already forgot it existed, even though you knew all about it two weeks ago. It doesn’t want you to stop it, as much as an object ‘wants’ anything. It’s a machine that will keep repeating this process until the universe is either destroyed or changed enough to sate it.”

That’s what Tim was afraid of. Klarion had said that the nature of the beast was that people who should know about it, didn’t. Something powerful enough to rewrite the memories of an entire universe wasn’t something easy to destroy or defeat.

“Jesus.” Jason hisses, low and with feeling. “Just how powerful is this thing?”

“Apparently its creation devoured an entire universe of magic users… but that might just be a legend.” Klarion hums as he studies his fingernails. “Sufficed to say, destroying the artifact is not an option. Killing Joker, though, that has distinct possibilities. If nothing else it might make this universe unique and not worth erasing.”

“How the fuck do you even know any of this?” Jason obviously isn’t liking being outnumbered here.

Klarion rolls his eyes. “I do read books after all. Now that that’s solved! Shall we put this plan in motion? Your universe destroyer might be taking his time playing his cat and mouse game, but I don’t fancy a battle with someone who makes my magic look like parlor tricks.”

A shudder runs through Tim’s body as he breathes in. “July twenty-fifth is the last time we knew where Joker was before all this. He was in--”

“You don’t need to tell me all that.” Klarion waves off Tim’s explanation as he walks by on his way to the other side of the room. Teekl leaps up, joining their witch. “Only whichever of you is going needs to know where. I just need to know when.”

Jason scowls. “You can only send one of us?”

“You’re lucky I can do that much.” Klarion kicks a few things out of the way and begins setting up his circle. “That choice is for the two of you to make, but it’s not as if it really matters. Once your mission is complete this instance will cease to be. Probably. Time isn’t really my forte. Chaos is.”

“We know,” Tim mutters, then turns to Jason. “Jay, you should go.”

“Why?” Jason gives him the most incredulous glare Tim has ever gotten in his life.

“Haven’t you always wanted to kill Joker? Here’s your chance. Besides you’re just the better person for the job.” Tim lies. Mostly lies. It’s true Jason, who’s killed before, is more prepared to deal with this job, but that’s not why Tim wants him to go. He’s being selfish. He’s… “It’s just better if it’s you.”

Jason narrows his eyes, like he’s seen straight through Tim’s bullshit and opens his mouth to probably say so, when there’s a loud crash from somewhere else in the building. An eerie giggle echoes through the hallway beyond the room they’re hiding in.

Klarion, now hunched over the circle with his eyes closed, lifts his head slightly and opens one eye. “No more time for chatter, birdies. Let’s go.”

Tim stands up, ignoring the incredibly disturbing sight of Teekl transforming into their more humanoid form. He fishes in the pocket of the jacket for his collapsed bo staff as he starts for the door. “Go, Jay, I’ll hold him off until--”

Jason grabs Tim before he can walk passed him and pulls him into a tight hug. For a moment Tim is half crushed against his brother’s chest and everything is still. Then Jason whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m sorry, Li’l Red.”

In that second, Tim feels his heart sink into his stomach, but he can’t even speak before the wall of the room comes crashing down, debris falling like a curtain to the floor revealing the figure of Joker grinning at them more wild-eyed than ever before. Jason shoves Tim away and immediately Tim feels something with fur and claws grab him by the arms from behind. Heedless of Teekl’s warning growl, Tim struggles against their grip. “Wait! Jason! Please! Please don’t!”

He doesn’t listen. He never listens. Please this can’t be happening!

Jason pulls his guns out and shots ring out. Bullets stop, seconds before hitting Joker’s head, falling harmlessly to the floor. Jason keeps shooting.

Joker laughs with hysterical glee as a crowbar appears in his hand. “Oh! I nearly forgot that I’d get to kill you all over again! This is going to be such a joy for me, you don't even know!”

“Jason!” Tim screeches as Teekl drags him backwards, their claws digging in deeper and deeper as he struggles to get free.

Vaguely he hears Klarion say something that might be, “Oh that does sound much more interesting!”

But he’s not paying attention, because at that moment Jason runs out of bullets and Joker’s grin widens impossibly. “All done now? Is it my turn already?”

“Fuck you!” Defiant to the end, Jason chucks both guns at Joker’s head. It only buys him a second more. Joker shrugs them off and lunges forward. He grabs Jason’s face and drives him down into the tiled floor. The crowbar falls towards Jason’s skull and Tim wails for his brother. He can’t save him. He can’t save anyone. Angry at the world, at Jason, at himself, Tim screams his throat raw as time slows down.

Abruptly Teekl’s gone. Nothing’s holding Tim in place any longer, but the world around him is rushing by in a blur of color and movement like a video rewinding. Then everything stops so suddenly that Tim’s caught off balance and falls against a crate. Bewildered, he looks around and realization sets in alongside a building dread. He’s nowhere near Gotham. There’s a steady beeping sound coming from a small device in the middle of a dirt floor. A woman sobbing as she fights with a padlock on a pair of iron doors. And a badly beaten teen in the old Robin suit laying on the floor by her feet.

Klarion severely overshot.

Tim breathes. He needs to get out of here right now. Break a window above him and crawl out. Just go. He can still accomplish his goal in this time period, he shouldn’t screw up the timeline any more than he absolutely has to. He can’t know what that will cause.

But… Jason’s right there. He couldn’t save his brother in the future. Couldn’t stop him from dying. Again. But here…

Shaking himself into action, Tim stands upright. He doesn’t have time for this. This building is going to go up in less than two minutes. He needs to act now. Without giving it anymore thought, Tim steps out from behind the stack of crates and heads for the doors.

Sheila jumps at his sudden appearance, looking at him with fear and hope in her eyes, pleading, “Please, help us. Please…”

Tim spares her a brief glance, but doesn’t speak. He ignores the bomb, he knows he can’t disarm it in time, it’s a Joker special. Too convoluted to solve. Instead he takes a lock pick set from his boot – Always, always be prepared – and goes to work on the padlock. It takes longer than he’d like and by the time he finishes the annoying beeping that’s counting down to their doom is getting louder. They don’t have much more time. He looks up at Sheila as he pulls the chain away from the doors. “Get them open, I’ve got Jason.”

Sheila nods, unquestioning, not even seeming to register that this complete stranger knows Robin’s identity. Well so much the better for him. As she pushes the doors open as wide as possible, Tim lifts Jason gently by his less damaged arm, hooking an arm around his back. Jason groans, weakly. “B?”

“No,” Tim answers, softly. “But I’ve got you, Jay. It’ll be okay.”

Sheila returns and supports Jason’s other side. Between the two of them, they manage to put some distance between them and the building. Tim pushes them down behind a rock seconds before the blast sends red hot shrapnel flying past their hiding spot. Holding Sheila’s head down, Tim silently laments that the rock is really too small of a shield, but it does it’s job well enough.

Slowly, the commotion dies down and Sheila, shaking like a leaf, her arms wrapped tight around Jason, looks up at Tim. “I-is it over? Are we really still alive?”

“Yeah.” For better or worse. Tim shakes off the wave of anxieties rising in his chest as he stands up. “Yeah, we’re alive.”

She turns her attention to Jason. “…He tried to save me. Even after…”

“… That’s what Robin does.” Tim coughs to try and hide the sadness in his voice.

There’s a silence between them as Sheila starts patching up Jason’s injuries. Then she glances at Tim again, stops, and stares at him. “Who-Who are you?”

“I’m…” He trails off, uncertain, and just then he hears the sound of a jeep growing closer. He sighs. “Nobody important. Stay here.”

She nods, hesitantly, and Tim steps away from the rock heading back towards the smoldering remains pile of rubble that was once a warehouse. He watches as the jeep slides to a halt and Batman jumps out and runs to the wreckage. Everything about this is a goddamn mess.

“Batman!” Tim yells as he gets close enough to be heard.

Bruce doesn’t seem to hear him.

“Over here! Hey!” Tim tries again, but that doesn’t work either. Dammit. “Bruce!”

That does it. Probably because no one in the area but Jason should know to call him that when he’s in the Batsuit. Bruce whips around and looks straight down at Tim panic turning to suspicion. Looks like he’s about to demand Tim’s identity immediately, Tim ignores it and jerks his head towards Jason and Sheila. The tension bleeds out of Bruce just a bit as he spots the pair. In the end he doesn’t speak to Tim, just rushes past him to where Sheila and Jason are.

Sheila looks up at Bruce as he approaches, saying, with some trepidation, “He needs some serious treatment, but… I-I think he’ll be okay. I hope he will. We can take back to the camp and I’ll treat him there.”

Without really responding, Bruce gathers Jason into his arms with intense care. Tim watches in silence as Sheila runs ahead to the jeep with Robin’s cape spreading it out in the back and climbing in, waiting for Bruce to lay Jason there. His job here is done. It’s time to leave. Jason will be okay. It will all--

“Come on.” Bruce’s voice rumbles beside him.

“I—” Tim starts to shy away, but Bruce, dexterous as ever, manages to grab him by the elbow while still holding Jason firmly.

“You need treatment too.” Bruce indicates Tim’s left arm with a tilt of his head.

Tim looks down and frowns at the blood soaking into his sleeve. Teekl had really dug their claws in it seems. “…Okay.”

Meekly, he follows Bruce back to the jeep, jumping into the passenger seat while Sheila and Bruce situate Jason in the back. Some part of Tim is screaming that he should run. Now. While they’re distracted. Leave. Don’t give Bruce anymore chances to figure him out.

He doesn’t.

He’s tired, drained beyond even his normal capacity, and, Bruce is right, he needs his injuries treated. So he just closes his eyes and leans back as the car starts and they speed away to save the boy who should have died.

#Argothia's writing #Batfam fanfic #Alternate universe - Batfam #Time Travel - Batfam #argothia's bat family fics

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kc-the-writer · 8 months ago

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23 October 1776

The morning sun crept across the room, warming the bed and causing the young man to stir. Despite the chill in the air, he found himself in fear of the heat on the mattress. In a flash, his mind returned to the flames that might have consumed him if destiny had not. Opening his eyes and taking in the reality of decadent new surroundings, he was confident his destiny had indeed found him. His eyes flicked to the bedroom door, one he had not yet crossed, and he wondered what new life awaited him on the other side.

"Found you!" Constance's voice chimed as she shooed a little black cat through the threshold of the bedroom door. "You leave the Lieutenant alone, now. The mice are after my pumpkins, and you're bothering him? We all have work to do, and this poor man has nothing to offer you. Shoo!" Hands full, she closed the door with her bare foot and muttered a curse at the curious feline. Despite the tray, heavy with breakfast and medical supplies, she moved with grace and purpose, as though mornings tending to the soldier had become a favored ritual. When she crossed the room to the desk by the window, the smell of warm cinnamon rolls wafted behind her, filling the space and Bradford's heart with comfort in the warmth.

Intoxicated by the scent of the tea and cinnamon, he heaved a heavy sigh of relief. Constance had been an eternal reminder that there was comfort to be found in warmth. Bradford might have grown to fear fire entirely if not for the way Constance carried it so beautifully in her spirit. Even with the morning sunshine blazing through the window and catching her flaming red hair alight, he delighted in the flames that ignited the space around her. "Good morning, Doctor Constance."

"Just Connie, to you, for now. I take much more pleasure in making medicine than I would enjoy administering it. I cannot imagine the horrors the healers under my father's command must see," she shuddered. Taking her crystal bottle in hand and a seat at his side, she sighed at the warmth of the featherbed. "No, I do not think tending to soldiers would suit me at all. You shall be my one and only."

"I like the sound of that. And the smell of breakfast. In fact, I find I am more hungry than in pain. Would it trouble you too much if we were to eat before you got to work?" He asked, stomach rumbling beneath his bandages.

Frowning, Connie glanced at the tray. "I suppose I could dress for the day while you eat if it is a necessary change to the schedule. You do look terribly hungry. I can leave you to your buns if you wish. She stood from the heat of his bed, regretting it instantly as the drafty October breeze blew through her modest morning gown.

"Or, you could have breakfast with me? If you have not already eaten. You need not leave me to take my meals alone. I require very little privacy; in fact, I might enjoy the company. You've been my only visitor save for the priest. I found him presumptuous, reading me the last rites so soon," he rolled his eyes as he took the teacup from Constance's outstretched hand. "Awful sod, thought my life was ending. In ways, it did. I feel like a new man under your care."

"You flatter me, Lieutenant. Alright, scooch," she laughed as she settled into bed at his hip. She dragged the breakfast tray onto her lap and placed a cloth napkin over his. "I suppose there's no denying Verity's cinnamon buns to a man in pain. They do seem to be the cure for all my teas, and elixirs cannot heal."

Making no attempt to fill the silence between bites, Constance and Bradford gorged themselves on the steaming cinnamon bread. They found their minds too carried away by the buttery cream glaze to notice the sky had taken on a similar white shade before turning grey. Neither had a reason to see that the bed was no longer warmed by the sunshine but instead now by their proximity in the feather bed.

As a particularly raucous rumble of thunder rolled through the heavens, Constance flinched and found herself feeling surprised that Bradford had grown so accustomed to the sound. She imagined some, like herself, never grew out of expecting cannon fire. His fearlessness was enviable, though Constance wondered what horrors witnessed in battle had hardened him to the din. When she opened her lips to speak on the thought, she was disrupted by the flash of lightning and the immediate downpour of rain against the tar-pitched roof. "I suppose my duties in the garden will have to wait until tomorrow. That leaves me with very little to occupy my time this evening. How about a game of cards later? Perhaps you prefer chess?"

"Poker is my game, but there is so much one can learn about his opponent in a game of chess. I accept the challenge," he smiled, lighting up at the idea of having fun. A month had passed since his last night of games. He wondered if Bennie and Marcus had abandoned the city with the others and what had become of the home the men shared. It seemed unlikely he had a home to return to. At least, he knew that in the confines of the stately bedroom, he had one friend left in the city. "Tell me you will be gentler with me in a game than you are with your tonic?"

Reaching for her crystal vial, Connie shook her head. "No games until you have taken your medicine and I have changed your bandages. So far as gentleness goes, I'll make no such promises in chess: no mercy, no retreat, no surrender. You understand how I was raised, sorry. But I promise to go easy with the medication where possible. I am trying to adjust the recipe so that it doesn't feel so -"

"Tortuous?"

Connie's expression softened as she pulled the cork stopper. "Indeed. Now, let's look at what progress we have made under the batting," she said as she began to unwind the white strips that had covered his blistering wound.

With each inch of exposed skin coming into view, Bradford grew more surprised by the efficacy of his healer's care. What was once charred beyond recognition had now glowed pink and tan. Pearlescent white scars streaked down his limb, but he knew the severity of the burns he experienced should have robbed him of it entirely.

Pleased with her work, she smiled at his bare arm and helped him sit up fully. "Now, let's look at those ribs," she instructed, unlacing the corset she had tied him into to keep his bones in place as they healed. Bradford looked down at his bare chest, stunned to find the bruising had long since faded. "My God."

"Goddess, if you must, but Connie will do," she grinned. She was clearly impressed with her tonic. "I believe you've earned your dignity back and will no longer need to sleep in my corset. The arm needs more of my special recipe, but I believe we can change the ribs to salve alone. A new bundle of dandelions is drying in the cellar as we speak. This one will not burn, only a tingle," she promised, warming the cream between her hands before placing them on his torso.

Moving slowly, Connie worked her fingers into his flesh, down to each aching muscle. From his collarbones, she worked down to his chest, and with a swift dig of her thumb over his heart, Bradford felt it start to beat faster. As though she had willed it, restarted it, vexed it to beat only at her command. There was no stopping the sigh of relief that escaped his lips at the sensation.

Working to his ribs, she lingered over the ones that had suffered the most, careful in her touch as promised. "Beautiful," she whispered as she ran her fingers down the trail of dark hair that disappeared into his breeches. Feeling an unfamiliar heat rising to her cheeks, she looked into the surprised brown eyes looking back at her. "That is to say; you've healed nicely, Lieutenant. I've done excellent work."

"Indeed you have," he sighed as he lay back on the pillow. If he had been capable of forming a thought, not one image or idea that came to him might have been enough to move the blissful smile from his lips. Perhaps if he'd opened his eyes, he might have been able to change his expression before it was forcibly changed as his features twisted at the feeling of the healing tonic seeping into the scars on his arm.

"You will be well enough soon. I will not need to touch your arm. I just ask that we test your strength. Your arm looks to be healing properly, but let us see if you can squeeze my hand. Ready?" Connie laced her fingers through his and waited.

Finding his breath after the shock of the treatment, Bradford agreed and curled his fingers around hers. A jolt of discomfort moved from his wrist to his shoulder at the movement. "Good, again," his novice healer instructed. With each squeeze of her hand, he felt more robust and capable. Only then was he convinced his limb would be saved. "Wonderful," Connie sighed, returning his squeeze. "It seems we have made remarkable progress. That's all the torment I will inflict upon you this morning. Medically speaking, of course," she smirked. "I'll return in a moment with the chess board, she said, rising from her place at his side and collecting her supplies. "While I am in the library, would you like a book? Something to keep you occupied?"

"A book would be such a delight, even a newspaper if you have one. What do you read?" He asked, finding himself genuinely curious. He hoped, after all, that she did read. He had heard that it was uncouth for ladies of her standing to do so, but something about her contained wisdom hard to find outside of a glorious story of a romantic heroine.

Returning to him and lowering her voice, she grinned. "I cannot bring you a newspaper. I steal them from my father and burn the nightly evidence of my thievery. In the future, I will be certain to bring them to you before I do. At present, I have just finished reading a story of a young servant girl; her employer is relentless in his attempts to coerce her to surrender her virtue. Oh, but it ends so happily," she sighed.

"I prefer the happy ending to the newspaper if you are certain it is no imposition. I cannot bear the papers and the state of this war," he looked past her, watching as the rain fell from the gables. His eyes fell closed in discomfort at the rumbling of the distant thunder.

Fully agreeing to his preference, Connie offered another gentle squeeze to his fingers. "I can certainly understand. It must be so different; living in the garrisons is one thing– fighting in the streets must be another. You've been brave, Lieutenant. You have earned your escape into a good book. Though, I confess, you are the first soldier I have met who acted with any rationality in matters of work and war. When my father was injured, getting back into uniform was all the man could want. His desperation nearly drove poor Verity to her wit's end," she blushed, ashamed to speak poorly of a man who commanded respect everywhere but his own home. Though, the house where he lived was hardly his own.

"Perhaps I might be eager to return to the streets if I had not enjoyed such great care," his thick brow arched as he met her gaze. "You are performing miracles, Connie."

Pulling her hand away, Constance averted his gaze and tucked a rogue curl behind her ear. "Not according to My father. He fears I will fail to have you in fighting shape before Christmas.

"Will you?" He asked, fear now spreading through him, his ribs aching, and the thought of war sent his heart racing faster than it had under her touch.

Afraid to look up from her bare feet, Connie shook her head. "Not if I can help it. It would be a shame to see you spend Christmas morning loading ships or marching into battle. If I can keep you in my bed and bring cinnamon buns to you, I will. Perhaps, I might even find a stocking to fill for you."

"I cannot imagine your father allowing it. It seems impossible to envision the Christmas spirit outweighing his penchant for battle. Sitting at the piano singing hymns while Verity roasts a goose- I cannot see your father in sight," Bradford chuckled sadly. Returning his gaze to Constance, he shrugged, "Was he always a soldier?"

Constance tried and failed to remember a single Christmas spent with her father. There had been plenty of roast goose, Bradford had been right about Verity, but memories of Major Fosythe rarely came in pretty packages. "He was, indeed. A good one, too. One of the best. He will spend the holidays awaiting orders and will expect you to do the same. You see, my father can seem cruel. I suppose the same can be said for all soldiers. Though, if I may confess, I might have liked to have been one. Tell me, Lieutenant, is it not grand? It must be wonderful having something to fight for!"

Shaking his head, realizing how long his dark curls had become since he was bedridden, Bradford searched for the words. Not wishing to argue, not wanting to trod on her way of life, he spoke gently. "My experience was far from grand."

She found herself genuinely surprised at his words. "Then, why? Why do you fight?" None of her father's most prized men had dared speak of war as though it had been anything worse than an inconvenience. To the soldiers, it had been an honor. To the priest, war had packed his churches with mothers and wives awaiting word from loved ones, happy to give to the collection plate as though it would save their sons and husbands. To the doctor, the war started a boom in business for his crude prosthetics. To the merchants, perhaps the most fortunate of the bunch, the war had meant more wealth than peace could ever hope to offer.

"I donned that uniform for the same reason most other young men do. Simply because I had no other choice," he answered after taking a moment to find the truth. Honest words falling from his lips felt as wonderful and strange as the touch of her hands on his chest. He found himself wanting more of the sweet taste of truthful words.

Carefully considering his words, Constance backed away from the door's threshold, reluctant to leave for the library before asking one final question of him. "Then, Lieutenant, what if you could do anything you wanted? How would you live if you were stripped of your uniform for good?"

Thinking back to his dying wish, recalling his desires as the boot pressed down onto his neck, he smiled. "Connie, all I want in this life is what you have. A beautiful home, a trusted servant, and a daughter as whip-smart as your father has. More than that, I want a tradition. Not based on violence or lies. I want the roast goose, the hymns. I want peace. A real family."

Constance sighed sadly, imagining the happy family in the portrait in her father's study, filling the room with hymns and indulging in Christmas pudding. She wondered if she may ever know the joy of tradition he had described in his wishes. "You shall start a grand tradition, indeed."

#the pendleton tradition #end of act 1

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my313 · 9 months ago

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beautiful stranger ⟡₊ 🚎 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ choi beomgyu

now playing 𝄞₊ ⊹ beautiful stranger - laufey

⋆ pairing: beomgyu x gn!reader

⋆ summary: what better way to romanticise the commute to class than listening to laufey and re-living that elevator scene from 500 days of summer?

⋆ genre/themes/warnings: slice of life, university au, fluff, love at first sight, strangers to ???, crack-ish lol, also kind of loser simp manic pixie dream boy gyu, lots of laufey mentions and references, 500 days of summer reference (the i love the smiths scene if anyone hasnt watched but has seen it on tiktok)

⋆ word count: 1591

a/n: if ur looking for realism this isnt it ... this is me trying to imagine my own romcom. also my bad i think i got too carried away yapping and with too little dialogue. this is definitely self-indulgent but!!!! here’s my first post :) i’m thinking of making this a laufey songfic series for all of txt but depends on my inspo LOL. this was inspired by a girl on the bus who was tryna show me her taehyung lockscreen cuz she probably saw my soobin one HAHAHA. hope u guys enjoy :3

act i. looked back for a second didn’t want to be rude i tend to fall in love on the tube

falling in love is simple for choi beomgyu. his eyes sparkle on default, glossy and rose-tinted - at least, on days where he can bring himself out of the university dorms. on most days, he finds that the world has a dull enough filter to put his pink-coloured frames to rest. he definitely thinks so every time he has to begrudgingly work on his assignments.

the universe decides today is not one of those days.

it really should be, though. the bus is overcrowded on a monday morning and he’s running on four hours of sleep after regretfully queueing on league with soobin and kai. he taps his foot impatiently, unable to hide his discomfort from all the squeezing and lack of personal space. his final saving grace is the tune of paramore’s the only exception from his headphones, only slightly distracting him from the screech of the tires and the chatter of freshmen. the public transport announcement for the next stop comes as a breath of fresh air for beomgyu as people rush out the doors. he breathes a sigh of relief and absentmindedly takes the closest unoccupied seat.

it’s not everyday that beomgyu gets to see the outside world (willingly), so he decides to challenge himself on the remaining half hour he has on the bus. he blinks, once, twice, more. anything to keep him awake.

the announcer’s voice fills the bus again to call for the next stop, but that’s not what wakes beomgyu up. no. the doors open and he catches a glimpse of someone’s cute plushie strapped on their bag. like a cat follows a laser beam, beomgyu’s gaze is fixed on the plushie until it stops moving. it’s right next to him. he raises his head, trying to be discreet and potentially avoid looking into this stranger’s face. unlucky as he is, beomgyu is met with your eyes almost immediately. his brain freezes in the way it did when he tried yeonjun’s mint chocolate ice cream out of summer heat desperation. it short circuits, and all he can think is so pretty; like it’s the only word in the dictionary, and right next to it is your name (even if he doesn’t know it yet). he swears he almost says it out loud.

taken aback, beomgyu can only hold your stare for a second before quickly turning away. his cheeks flush as he attempts to appear nonchalant (he is anything but), fishing into the pockets of his leather jacket to find his phone. he aimlessly unlocks it, showcasing his ‘romanticizing & touching grass’ playlist at full brightness. he cringes, thinking how ironic it is to have laufey’s beautiful stranger playing as he quite literally tries to avoid looking at a beautiful stranger in real-time. half of him entertains the thought of you seeing it and sparking up a conversation, a meet-cute that rivaled the quirkiness of the elevator scene in 500 days of summer. the other half of him continues to sink into himself, cringing at the thought.

still, he lifts his head and quickly glances at you, his phone screen lit up in anticipation.

act ii. beautiful stranger catching my stare it’s fate we collided right then back there i wonder if he felt the same thing too innocent crush on the morning commute

the boy next to you has looked up thrice in the ten minutes you’ve boarded the bus. if he wasn’t the prettiest you’d ever seen in your time riding this specific commute, it definitely would have been weird. it’s even more adorable that he’s tilting his phone screen towards you, a laufey song proudly on display as his attempts of appearing casual throw him under the bus.

you laugh to yourself, lips tugging into an amused smile. lightly nudging him with your elbow, beomgyu’s shoulders jerk as he looks back at you. he has his headphones on, so when you gently say, “i love laufey!” he doesn’t entirely understand. his eyebrows slightly raise in confusion. in the midst of taking his headphones off to hear you better, he stills when you move closer. your lips are too close to his already warm ears, and it certainly doesn’t help that you’re practically whispering “i love laufey” with the most unassuming, goofy yet endearing smile. your excitement must be contagious to beomgyu, because his embarrassment is quick to dissipate. you haven’t moved away. he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose - if this was how strangers on buses flirted. if that ever happened at all.

“oh, um,” he starts off awkwardly, “me too!” beomgyu’s stumbling over words he hasn’t even had a chance to get out yet, they’re all rushing to leave his mind but the damned announcer beats him to it. your gaze flickers from him to the blinking sign ahead. by now, you were back to leaning on your seat and away from beomgyu’s face. you really wished time slowed down, but the next stop was yours. you pursed your lips and contemplate your next words. what are the chances you’ll see this guy again?

“by the way,” you turn to beomgyu, expression determined like braving getting on a rollercoaster. “you’re really pretty.”

the announcer cuts through the silence and you’re quick to be up on your feet, ignoring the rising pink on both yours and beomgyu’s cheeks. “it was nice meeting you!” you manage to squeak out. just like that, beomgyu’s lost you.

act iii. but my beautiful stranger will have to remain a stranger until i see them again

beomgyu’s gone delusional over the past week. he’s sure that laufey will be his top artist on spotify this month, all because of you.

it’s monday again, his classes are canceled and yet he’s seated in the bus hoping to catch a glimpse of you. no, he wants more than a glimpse. this time, he’s certain he can do much better than a bunch of ums and awkward smiles. his posture straightens sharply as the bus makes a gradual stop. it’s yours.

this time, beomgyu’s quick to crane his neck over and look outside the window to make sure you’re there. the universe is kind, because there you are. the corners of his mouth rise on their own accord when you meet eyes, tapping the seat next to him that he totally did not reserve for you the whole ride.

you’re pleasantly surprised by the pretty boy’s re-appearance, smirking while making yourself comfortable next to him.

“i should’ve known you were one of the crazy ones. nobody listens to laufey normally…” you sigh, tone satirical and disapproving, but your expression is anything but. it’s obvious you’re glad he found you again. he wasn’t the only one squealing over the past week.

beomgyu’s voice comes out more confident than last monday, playful yet baritone. “nah, you got it wrong. i’m only crazy over you.” you’re both looking at each other in silence before bursting into fits of laughter. beomgyu tries to keep his giggles polite by covering his mouth with his palm, but you’re flailing and find yourself leaning into his shoulder to muffle your laughs.

that only makes beomgyu grin wider, lifting his hand from his face and training his eyes on you. he doesn’t wait for you to stop laughing, sneakily capturing your hand together with his. the sudden warmth melting your frigid hands makes you jerk away from the comfort of beomgyu’s sweater. you’re instantly faced with his wide eyes. before uttering a word, beomgyu cuts you off with a silly expression, eyebrows wriggling mischievously, “so that scored me a date, right?”

“you’re such a freak,” you taunt. “i don’t even know your name!” beomgyu rolls his eyes, brows still raised comically. “you laughed into my sweater, i think we’re so past that.”

“but since you asked… how about i give you a good deal?”

“i’m listening.” you play along with his banter, nudging him to go on. beomgyu nods smugly as he lays out his cards, confident you won’t say no. you couldn’t, right?

“i propose that you get my name right now.. but only if you take my number too,” he says cheerfully. “great deal, huh? can’t get it anywhere else. a bus 11 exclusive!”

you pretend to give it a thought, complete with a pondering stance and looking up at the bus ceiling in contemplation. when you look back at beomgyu, you can’t help but smile at his overly-excited puppy-eyed look. it makes you want to tease him even more, but you decide against it. your stop is threatening to cut this short again.

you bring out your phone, unlock it and hand it over to beomgyu. “gimme it then, stranger.”

“it’s beomgyu,” he says as he types up his number. he locks your phone before returning it into your hands. “i’m saved as love of your life though, so…”

“weirdo!” you shriek while opening your phone to double check. it’s just beomgyu with a heart. “i thought you actually did that.”

beomgyu laughs. the announcer’s familiar voice fills the bus again and it’s your stop next. swiftly, you open up a new chat with beomgyu, sending him a message before standing up and waving bye. he returns the gesture fondly, watching you get off and walk away.

once the bus starts up again, beomgyu sees the notification from you:

wanna hang tonight? :)

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moemoemammon · 3 years ago

Note

Following that "least favorite" request could we get their reactions to being to told that they're their favorite, but to not tell the other brothers so their feelings don't get hurt? Maybe because they relate to them the most or just get along really well. Thanks!

You're My Favorite! But Don't Tell the Others-

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

There are no words to explain the overwhelming satisfaction ion Lucifer’s face after you tell him that. Of course, it’s only natural that he would be your favorite, all things considered.

The Avatar of Pride won’t ever forget this moment. He carefully considers your words and agrees not to tell anyone, as much as he’d love to bring it up, because he knows more than anyone what kind of chaos would ensue should the others (especially Mammon) find out.

But they can tell something’s up when the eldest has been heard humming all day. He moves about the house with even more grace than usual, and hasn’t scowled even once.

But the REAL shocker was when Mammon tried hiding a bill right as Lucifer walked in... and the eldest let him off with a warning. A WARNING! The brothers thought the Devildom must’ve frozen over, but you and he knew different.

“MC, I would like you to accompany me to Le Pluvier this afternoon, once you've finished your studies. I've already made reservations, so be sure to get ready on time. I've made sure to consider the things you might like to eat, so I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. Don't be late." "...I'm grinning? I don't know what you're talking about."

Mammon

The gigantic grin on Mammon’s face is so bright, it could rival the sun. You’ve seriously made his day. No, his year. Actually, he’s pretty sure he could ride this high for the next millennia! There’s nothing in this world that could dampen his spirits right now!

He feels like he just won big at the casino! Of course he’s your favorite! He WAS your first demon, and now he’s gone and claimed his rightful spot as your number one! Good luck trying to keep him from saying anything. Mammon’s gonna throw it around in everyone’s faces for as long as he can milk it.

And you thought he was clingy before, just wait till you see how he treats you after hearing that. Despite always calling you his ‘servant’ or his ‘human’, you’d think your roles were reversed. Mammon spoils you every chance he gets, buying you clothes and trinkets, filling the spaces in your room with the things he knows you like, monopolizing you completely until nearly everything you own is a gift from him.

Your words also help soothe that jealousy of his a little. Only a little, though. It’s easier to watch you talk to other demons when he knows he’ll always be your first man.

“Didja really have to stay after class that long? I know you were talkin' to that demon that lent you a book, but you outta ask ME for stuff! Tch... you're lucky I'm in a good mood today! But I guess I don't have to worry about some low level demon like that, seein' as I'm your favorite!"

Levi

Wait wait wait....Come again? Did you seriously just say what he think you said..? That had to be a mistake! Some kind of...uh..verbal typo! Because there’s absolutely, positively, NO WAY in all of the nine layers that he could be your favorite demon. And yet you still insist that you’re telling the truth, and Levi feels like he’s died and gone to heaven.

Red faced and stammering up a storm, Levi looks like he might die. Is it really okay for a shut-in otaku to feel this giddy? Seriously, he hasn’t felt like this since he got his hands on a signed copy of a Ruri Hana audio drama! No no, this definitely beats that!

You’ve managed to inflate his nearly nonexistent ego, and now he feels like there’s nothing he can’t do! Maybe he could even go to Majolish right now?? THAT’S how good he’s feeling!

Almost as bad as Mammon in keeping it a secret. He doesn’t tell anyone right away, but they’re suspicious when they notice how much time he’s spending out of his room. And then when he and Mammon get in another petty argument, he drops the bomb that he’s your favorite demon in the entire Devildom, and you can guess how things go from there.

“Uuuoooo...!!!!! I've decided..! Since I've got a serious stat buff, I'm going to open a booth at the next convention coming up..! I'll sell my Ruri-chan fan art and spread her influence all over the Devildom! I'd never have the guts to do it normally, but I feel like I could do anything right now! Y-you'll go too, won't you MC?"

Satan

You nearly made this man spit tea all over his book, and now he’s coughing and spluttering and trying to figure out what could’ve prompted what he’s taking as a confession. You.. do realize what you’re saying, don’t you? And you know the kind of effect your words have on him?

Satan isn’t the type that wears his heart on his sleeve, so you have to look for his subtle expressions to tell how he’s feeling. But there’s nothing subtle about the redness of his ears and how he’s begging you not to look at him right now. For the sake of his sanity, give him a minute to recoup.

When he does recover, he agrees to keep it a secret for obvious reasons. And it’s hard to tell that he’s in a good mood, other than the fact that he hasn’t tried to pull any pranks on Lucifer lately. But Asmo sees all, and literally hounds him into spilling the tea.

He tells him a lie of course, but now the other brothers are noticing just how happy he is. Satan's smiling way too much today, isn't he? And he didn't even get mad when Beel got whipped cream on his jacket! Well, not THAT mad, anyway.

"Haaah... everyone's been harassing me all day, claiming I'm smiling a lot. I'm sure I look the same as I always do, but I'll admit that I've been happy ever since you told me that this morning. Wait.. you did think I've been grinning too, do you? I have??"

Asmo

Asmo always jokes about being your favorite and announces it as if the two of you are married, but when you actually confirm that his longing for you isn’t one sided, he ends up smearing lip balm across his cheek in shock. Did you... really say that just now? He knew it all along, but hearing it like that is just...!

Ooooh, he’s so happy he can hardly contain himself! Asmo throws his arms around you, peppering your face in kisses until you feel sticky from lip balm, wipes your face clean, then marks it up all over again. Good luck getting rid of him, because he might never let go.

Immediately posts it to Devilgram. Did you really think he’d let such a momentous occasion go unannounced? You must not have been paying attention to the kind of person he is! Asmo would put you on a pedestal in front of the world like a precious jewel if he were able, but this’ll have to do. He won’t hide his love at all!

Of course, the others don’t take too kindly to it, not that he cares. He never leaves your side, pampers you like crazy, and has even attempted to get you to move into his room. Lucifer put an immediate stop to that, though. Boo...

“I just can't get enough of you, MC! Just being near you gets me so excited that I can hardly stand it! You'll take responsibility for what you're doing to me, won't you? And in exchange, I'll take my time showing you just how much I love you. After all, you're my favorite, too!"

Beel

Beel never has a problem with choking while he eats, and it comes as naturally as breathing. Unfortunately neither of that applies right now, since you just made him choke on a meatball sub.

He usually takes your words with quiet acceptance, but this might be the most emotion you've ever witness from the stoic demon. His eyes are wider than that time that laid on an entire gingerbread mansion, sparkling up with such deep emotion you wouldn't be surprised if he cried. Instead he softens up and immediately embraces you.

...And doesn't let go. Sandwich long forgotten, he's been carrying you around all day, and ignoring any questions or protests from his brothers. Also insists on feeding you throughout the day. The food tastes better when he can enjoy it with you, so why not just bring you everywhere?

When he isn't carrying you, he's following you around subconsciously, either close up against you like a protective wall, or just far enough that you're within his line of sight. As far as not telling anyone, he... tells Belphie immediately. It was an accident though, since there's not much he keeps from his twin.

"MC, I won a meal ticket for Godevil Chocolatier. Let's get something for dessert today. Ah, you can get as much as you want, too. I really want to see what things you choose. They might become my favorites."

Belphie

There's nothing in this world that can wake Belphegor from his sleep, unless he allows it. No loud noises, no amount of shaking or smacking, and not even dragging him around the house. But the moment you whisper that he's your favorite demon, the Avatar of Sloth is wide awake.

Hey, you're not just saying weird things to get a reaction, are you? Because if so, this is a new level of cruel. Yet you confirm that you mean it and swear him into secrecy, and Belphie tries his best not to show how happy he is. A smile keeps creeping up on his face that he struggles to force down. It's annoying...

As funny as it’d be to tell everyone the news, he's good at keeping secrets. Instead, you've noticed that he's been sleeping a little less that before. When he does take one of his hundreds of naps, he finds some way to be closer to you. He's even been seen sleepwalking to your exact location somehow-

It's hard for him to believe that you're not teasing, though. How could HE be your favorite demon here? Belphie doesn't do anything special to win you over, yet after everything he put you through, you like him enough to deep him your favorite?

"You're weird, MC. I mean... me? I won't deny that I'm really happy though, but I guess I'm in disbelief. You should spoil me even more until I believe you. Lend me your lap for a few hours, okay?" "...I wonder what Lucifer would think if I told him, heheh."

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mandospace · 3 years ago

Text

Honey (Din Djarin x Reader Smut)

Summary: Din comes home from a long hunt tired and in need of his girl.

Word Count: 2,509

Warnings: SMUT! If you are under 18, DNI! Oral sex (f receiving), PinV sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), language, uhhh fluff? Two idiots that missed each other? Idk what else.

A/N: I know I haven’t written in a long time but then this popped into my head tonight so I had to write it. I hope you all enjoy :)

MASTERLIST

Din was exhausted.

The type of exhaustion that is bone deep, the kind that aches with every step you take. He had been gone on a hunt for the past two weeks and was currently dragging the dead bounty behind him. Despite being tired and dirty, the only ache that was consuming his mind and body was the ache for you.

It never used to be like this; Din could go weeks away from his ship and never felt the weary need to sleep in his own bunk until he had met you. As soon as you had joined his crew, Din found himself rushing through his hunts to get back to you — and that was even before the two of you got together.

Now, it was like there was this invisible string that connected the two of you, the tension of it pulling him back to you with every step he took. Once the Crest came into view his steps fell quicker and the body behind him seemed lighter. It was as if knowing that you were safely tucked away inside his ship had renewed his strength.

The ramp screeched as it descended, a telltale sign that his ship was older than the Empire. He would need to get that fixed, but that chore was pushed to the back of his mind. Din trudged into the softly lit hull and shoved his bounty into the carbonite chamber — he didn’t even check to make sure that the bounty was standing upright — before he took off his helmet and tossed it to the side. He could practically feel the sweat and grime that clung to his skin after being away on a hunt for the past two weeks. He was sure he did not smell the greatest but he didn’t care, he only wanted you.

“Mesh’la?” Din called. “Where are you?”

“I’m in here,” your voice sounded from behind the metal door of his refresher. Din smiled at the sound of your voice and the steady rhythm of water.

He began shedding his armor and flight suit while he made his way towards you. The refresher door slid open to reveal the small room and the even smaller refresher stall that was closed off, hiding you from him. Steam filled the room with the scent of your shampoo — the scent of home.

Without a second thought Din slid open the ‘fresher door and stepped under the cascading water, crowding you into a corner.

“Din!” you shrieked, trying to cover your chest. “I’m naked!”

He couldn’t help the lopsided smirk that graced his face. “That’s kind of the whole point, mesh’la.” Din reached for you and pulled you into his chest. His arm wrapped around your wet waist while his other hand slithered it’s way into your hair. He titled your face back until you met his eyes and he almost melted down the drain when he saw their beautiful color.

Not wasting another moment, Din tugged your face closer and slotted his lips over yours, sighing into the kiss. Oh, how he had missed this feeling. Din lived for the feeling of your body pressed against his, the feeling of your plush lips mingling with his. He tasted the mint on your breath and tried to breathe you into his lungs — he wanted to be completely surrounded by you in any way possible.

“I missed you,” he sighed, mouthing at the corner of your mouth before traveling down your jaw. Din relished in the shaky stutter of your breathing at his ministrations — a sound reminder that he affected you as much as you did him.

“Missed you too,” you sighed, scraping your nails up his wide back, pulling him into a hug. Din buried his face in your neck, gripping you tightly to him. The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the water from the ‘fresher washing away the grime from his hunt.

A comfortable silence filled the air while you massaged his own shampoo through his curly locks, fingers detangling the knots that had formed from wearing his helmet constantly. Din hummed at the feeling of your fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp. He was always the one to take care of others, but it was nice to be on the receiving end of such pampering. He placed kisses to your forehead while you continued cleaning him, grateful for you and everything you did.

Before long the water ran cold and the two of you had to end your relaxing bathing early. You each toweled yourself off and before you could reach for the pair of sleeping clothes you had set aside; Din had grabbed your hips and picked you up, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs. He hit the button to open the door and carried you out into the main hull of his ship and over to the nest of blankets that the two of you had made into a makeshift bed. After the two of you realized that his bunk space was way too small for both of you, you had made this makeshift bed in the corner of his ship.

Din dropped to his knees before carefully laying you down on the soft blankets. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist and Din hovered over you, hands on either side of your head. He leaned down and captured your lips.

“I missed you,” Din whispered against your mouth.

“You already said that.” He could feel the smile on your lips mirroring his own.

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” he pressed his lips to yours this time with more passion. A hunger settled deep within him, similar to the weariness he felt before but a hundred times stronger; fueled by every breathless sigh that passed your lips. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and moaned at the taste of mint. The combination of your shampoo and the taste of your breath was driving him insane. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you up and into his body in an attempt to imbed you deep into his being.

“Din.” That breathless moan that had slipped accompanied with the feeling of your nails scraping into his shoulders unhinged him. He could feel the hot ache of his cock throbbing between his legs and the fire that roared deep in his stomach.

“Need to taste you, sweet girl,” Din moaned into your skin, his lips trailing down your damp body. He bit and sucked on your neck until he was positive that there would be marks later. A thrill of excitement raced through him at the thought of you walking through a market the next day, purple bruises littering your neck and chest while onlookers stared at the marks — his marks — that claimed you as his own.

Din traced his tongue over one of your nipples before sucking the hardened peak into his mouth. His free hand made its way to your neglected breast and his thumb teasingly traced circles around the pert bud. He relished in the feeling of your thighs tightening around his trim waist and the way your chest arched into him with a shuddery breath.

He mapped out the expanse of your skin, worshipping it with kisses and marks left behind in his wake. When he got to just below your navel his broad shoulders pushed your legs apart, allowing him to sink lower on your body. He nipped and soothed the love bites he left on your inner thighs as he made his way closer to where you needed him the most.

Din groaned at the sight of your puffy lips that were glistening with arousal. He pressed a quick kiss to them and buried his sharp nose in the soft curls at the base of your mound, breathing in your scent. Din couldn’t hold himself back any longer and relinquished his control to his most base instincts. His tongue darted through your folds, licking from your entrance to your clit while he tried to taste as much of you as he could.

His name fell from your lips and your fingers curled into his hair at the overwhelming feeling of him between your legs. Din sucked on your clit and slowly worked a finger into your entrance before adding a second.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, sweet girl,” Din groaned into your pussy, licking at your clit while he curved his fingers up. Your hips raised off the blankets but he slung one strong arm over them to keep you still. “Hush, I have to get my girl ready for me. Be patient.”

You whimpered his name and bit on your fist at the immense pleasure. His fingers were slowly working you open and his tongue was relentless on your clit. Before long you could feel a building sensation deep in your stomach.

“Din—,” you tried to warn him of your impending climax but the pleasure was too much.

“I know, sweet girl,” Din growled into your pussy, picking up the pace of his fingers and tongue. He could feel your orgasm approaching and he intended to deliver. “Come for me, sweetness. Come all over my face.”

As soon as those words left his mouth you were crashing into your orgasm, the insane pleasure brought to you by your lover coursing through your veins like tidal waves on a beach. Just when you thought you were about to get enough air, another wave of pleasure crashed down on you from Din’s continued movements.

One of Din’s favorite things in the whole galaxy was making you come from his mouth alone. He loved the way your whole body shook from pleasure and how your thighs tightened around his ears from the intensity of your orgasm. Now was no different and Din drank your flowing juices straight from its source.

“So sweet,” Din moaned and licked at your pussy while you came down from your high. Soon you were whimpering and shaking from overstimulation and Din decided to take mercy on you. He wasted no time and crawled back up your body so he could place his lips on yours. He pushed his tongue into your mouth and the two of you moaned at the taste of your essence on his tongue. “Sweeter than honey.”

“I need you inside me, Din,” you whined. The entire time he was going down on you all you could think about was his hard cock that kept brushing against your ankle. You were sure the tip was already leaking precum so you reached down and grasped his shaft, thumb brushing over the tip — you were right. He whimpered at the sensation of your small hand tightly gripping him. “Please.”

“Anything for you, mesh’la,” he pressed his lips to yours fervently and gripped his cock at the base to line his tip up with your entrance. Din shuddered at the feeling of his tip dragging through your wet folds before notching it at your entrance. He grabbed behind one of your knees and hitched your leg over his waist as he slid into you with one thrust, both of you moaning at the sensation of him bottoming out.

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweetness,” Din dropped his head and bit at the junction of your neck and shoulder. He could feel your pussy squeezing around him and after being away from you for two weeks, he felt like he was about to come already. He pressed his nose to your neck and breathed in your scent as he tried to calm down. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Your words were caught in your throat and all you could do to respond was card your fingers through his hair. He was so much larger than you and you basked in the feeling of his warm body pressed against yours.

After a few moments Din was ready to move and he slowly dragged his cock out, shivers running down his back at the feeling of your walls trying to suck him back into your warmth. It took all of his strength to not pound into you and chase his own orgasm. After being away for so long, he wanted to make it memorable for the both of you.

He set a slow rhythm and left you breathless with every drag of his cock. Both of you were a breathless, moaning mess at the feeling of the other. Din’s hands were firm on your hips and his forehead was pressed against yours in a keldabe kiss, leaning down every once in a while to slot his mouth against yours. One hand was buried in his curls while the other trailed down his back admiring the strong muscles that were pulled taut as he rutted into you. Your breaths mingled together and the air around you heated up a few degrees as your bodies moved together.

Before long, Din could feel his balls tightening at his coming release. His grip on your hips tightened as he tugged them up towards him in time with his own, driving his cock deeper into you with every thrust. His name fell from your lips at the new angle and the grip you had on his locks tightened, pulling on the chocolate curls.

“I’m not gonna last much longer, s-sweet girl,” Din stammered while he picked up the pace. He could tell that you wouldn’t last much longer either by the way your pussy was clenching around him.

“Come for me, baby,” you gasped against his mouth before pulling him into a heated kiss. It was sloppy and wet and extremely passionate and the use of his pet name sent him over the edge.

Din groaned when he felt his balls pull tight and he spilled his seed into you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you up and into his lap while he fucked his cum into you. His head was tilted back so he could reach your lips and his wide hands spread across the expanse of your back so that he could hold you to his chest. Your hips ground down on him as you rode him through his orgasm until it eventually brought on your own. Din’s eyes screwed tight at the feeling of your walls clenching down on his spent cock and he couldn’t help the animalistic growl that ripped through his body at the sensation of your pleasures combining.

“I love you,” Din admitted, chest heaving against yours. He could feel the weariness from his hunt returning so he lowered you both back to your nest of blankets and pulled one over you. He grunted when he pulled his soft cock from your spent pussy — he would stay inside you forever if he could — before he settled down and pulled you into his arms.

He felt you smile against his chest before you placed a sweet kiss on it. “I love you too.”

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