#i can imagine him talking to her with the most gentlest voice ever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buckyalpine · 2 years ago

Note

Heeey sweetie ! I hope you’re well !! I always look forward to your posts and check your page daily for updates ! Your writing is incredible and always leaves me with butterflies in my stomach !! I wanted to leave a request if that’s okay ! I was thinking about mob Bucky with grumpy-sunshine trope !? Bucky being the grumpiest little shit ! He’s arrogant and stares too much . But then he meets this ray of sunshine and she’s the only one to get him soft ! She’s the only one that can coax a smile out of him ! Gives her the gentlest touches and sweetest kisses ! He’s proud to have her next to him and loves how much smaller she looks compared to his massive size . Even tho he’s dominant in bed , he’s still careful and considerate with her ! Fluffy fluff with a big intimidating man

YESS Omg i love this so much its adorable. (18+, cause there’s fluffy fluff but also smutty smut)

Disclaimer: I love fics where Bucky loves his much smaller reader compared to his larger size but I do my best to not describe the readers size too much because I want anyone to be able to imagine themselves in my fics. When I write, Bucky is obsessed over how he can just easily scoop you up into his arms and toss you over his shoulder effortlessly.

First time meeting you I just imagine you both meet in the most wholesome way as well. He's truly the grumpiest shit anyone's ever met. Arrogant and cocky but he’s earned his reputation so no one dares question it. That being said, he has some principals, one of them being that family always comes first. He takes that very seriously. That's why he's out and about, looking for a present for Sam’s daughter’s birthday, hand picked himself (and by present, we’re talking presents plural, he already bought her a custom gold engraved locket and an Hermes baby blanket, no godchild of his would get any less).

Still, he wanted to give her more, wandering into a little book shop at the corner of the street that appeared to be empty. His men stood outside the door while he scanned the shelfs, huffing in frustration because there were so many choices and it would have been easier to just buy the all the books. He picked up a book and set it down, the store probably wouldn’t cost too much-

"Can I help you?"

A sweet voice called him from behind and Bucky was ready to give the person hell, he hated sales people. Most people. Honestly all people. Except Steve. He'd maybe pee on Sam if he was on fire but that was as far as his love for him went. (its all a front, he loves Sam).

He turned around, about to tell whoever it was, to fuck off, blinking instead when he came face to face with you. You smiled up at him, eyes twinkling, setting down the pile of books you had in your arms to look at the shelf he was browsing.

“What age group are you looking for?”

Bucky hardly registered your words, staring at what looked like the human form of a cute little garden fairy straight out of a fairytale. You were in a blush pink sundress, covered in tiny flowers, standing on your tippy toes trying to reach the books higher on the shelf. Garden fairy, what the fuck was wrong with him, he shook his head trying to regain his train of thought.

“Uh- a baby?” Bucky didn’t know what to do with himself, most people took his staring as a sign to go away but you seemed unbothered.

"Oh! Come with me, there’s a great section at the back, I’ll show you!” You happily led the 6′4 mob boss to the kids corner at the back of the store, colorful drawings, plush rugs and little bean bags covered the area.

“Any of these would be great for a little one” You pointed to the shelves that were low to the ground, pulling out a few and handing them to him “let me know if you see anything you like” with that, you went back to putting books away. You returned a few minutes later, biting back a smile, looking at the tall man covered head to toe in dark ink, diligently reading through one of the books you handed to him.

"You look so cute" You giggled, looking at Bucky sitting on one of the tiny chairs, his long legs sprawled out in front of him.

"Cute?" Bucky had never been more insulted in his life, of all things to describe him, how dare you tell him he looked cute.

“Of course” You grinned as you walked over and sat down beside him. The gentle sweet scent of your perfume evaded his senses, his heart jumped when he felt your warm hand brush against his. Bucky didn’t know why his heart was racing, he didn’t like it. His brows furrowed, trying to stop the blush that spread across his face when he saw your smile.

“Do you like that one?” Bucky nodded, looking at the cover of the book; two bears sitting together looking at the moon. “I love you to the moon and back, its such a sweet book, I would have picked this one too”

Bucky nodded again, not trusting himself to speak around you. You took the book to the front to check him out. After he paid, you placed a little brown bear that matched the ones on the book cover in the bag as well. Bucky cocked his head confusedly, reaching for his wallet again.

“How much?”

“Just take it as part of the gift” You smiled, tying a ribbon around the handles of the bag. “I’m sure they’ll love it. Have a good day!” You gave him a little wave as he walked out, turning back to your books, while Bucky felt his insides melt.

The pretty girl at the book store thinks I’m cute.

Bucky slid into his SUV, the corner of his lips twitching, his cheeks dusted pink. You thought he was cute. Cute. He continued to bite his bottom lip, fighting with his face muscles to keep from smiling, failing miserably instead.

“Is he having a stroke”

Sam whispered, staring at Bucky through the rearview mirror while he sat at the front with Steve. Bucky’s face continued to twitch, trying to keep his classic scowl on his lips.

“I think he’s smiling” snorted, cocking an eyebrow watching Bucky carefully inspect the little brown bear you put in the bag.

“He knows how to smile?”

“You good punk?” Steve called out, smirking when Bucky stuffed the bear back in the bag, pretending he wasn’t giving it heart eyes while thinking about you. “You looked real cozy talking to the girl at that the bookstore”

“Shut up” He ignored his two friends snickering, throwing them a growl before thinking about you again.

She thinks I’m cute.

After that meeting, imagine Bucky finds himself going back for more and more books; he doesn’t even have time to read but he can’t help it. Every time he steps into your bookstore, its like sliding into a comfy blanket. He’s addicted to your sweet smile; your always there with a new book for him to read. He can’t help but smile every time he sees you flit around the shelves, he felt like he was living in his own fairytale.

The first kiss

Bucky watched you huff in frustration, trying to put a book back on the shelf but it was too high for you to reach.

“Um-could-would you please help me put this back?” You asked shyly, while Bucky smiled, nodding and coming up behind you, his hand gently holding your waist, placing the book on top with ease. His tall form towered over you, his chest brushing against your as you turned and looked up at him.

“Th-thank you” you whispered, your eyes flicking from his blue eyes to his pink lips. His lips were curved in a soft smile that gave you butterflies; it wasn’t often that you saw him smile but it seemed he did it whenever he was close to you.

“You look handsome when you smile” You squeaked, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as the words slipped through. Bucky bit his lip, while you looked away embarrassed you had said that out loud. “Sorry I didn’t mean-”

You gasped, feeling him pull you closer, his hand gently tilting your chin up to look at him. His head dipped down slightly and you felt your body moving on its own, standing on your tippy toes to be closer to him.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his nose nudging against yours. You nod, letting out a shuddered breath as his hand cupped your cheek, pressing his lips sweetly to yours. You hesitantly moved your arms to wrap around his shoulders, melting into his touch.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, staying tucked in his arms, having waited ages for him to finally make a move. When he finally has to leave, he comes running back in mere seconds later.

“Did you forget something?”

Bucky nodded, his hands wrapping around you waist, pulling you close to him again, his lips kissing you softly as ever.

“I wanted another kiss”

That kiss turned into lots of kisses. Lingering hugs. When he finally brings you to his home, he keeps you his little secret for a while so he can enjoy your company. You bring out a softness in him he didn’t know was possible; soft fluffy dates with him cooking for you, or going on evening strolls. You’re his everything, he loves seeing his little garden fairy comfy in his home. You made everything warmer; the soft scent of candles always traveled down the halls; sweet baked goodies were always ready in the kitchen. Sam and Steve were definitely not complaining, pretending they didn’t notice Bucky’s classic grumpy face now also came with a cute little blush on his cheeks.

The first time they meet you

Imagine Bucky’s team finally find the mole they’d been hunting for months. They’re all riled up, throwing him into the van, threatening him within an inch of his life. They know Bucky likes to take care of business himself but it doesn’t stop them from warning him about the pure wrath he’s going to face.

“You’re fucked”

“You thought we were bad? You’re gonna wish your mom swallowed you”

They drag him up the steps, bursting into his office, expecting Bucky to be waiting there with his knife twirling between his fingers.

Instead...

Bucky’s men all stared at each other before looking at the sweet thing that was sitting in their bosses lap, feeding him pastries. Bucky grinned like a love struck puppy, cradling you to his chest while he sat on his office chair, moaning at the sweet caramel melting on his tongue. The last thing they expected to see was a delicate thing like you cuddled up with who they thought was a blood thirsty gang leader.

Sam snorted, shaking his head, watching Bucky ignore the rest of them, his eyes still trained on you, peppering kisses onto your cheek.

“Motherfucker, are you eating butter tarts right now?”

“They taste good” Bucky shrugged, giving you one final sweet kiss to your lips before looking up at his team.

“Why don’t you wait for me in my room, I’ll be there soon” Bucky pressed a soft kiss onto your temple, helping you off his lap. You smiled, brushing some of his hair back, kissing his forehead.

“Come soon bubba” Your bare feet padded through his office, giving the towering men a quick wave as you passed them “Hi Sam, Hi Steve!”

Sam blinked, before grinning and giving you a friendly wave back.

“She is adorable, fucks she doing with you”

“Shut the fuck up bird brain” Bucky panned, a growl emitting from his chest, as he rounded the table, his previous soft demeanor dropping as soon as his eyes landed on the mole. “Have Steve keep him quiet, my angel doesn’t have to hear this shit”

After Bucky’s men saw how soft he was for you, you become their secret weapon. You’re always there to soften the blow they’d face, making him smile even when delivering the worst news.

“Boss, the deliveries were seized” Peter trembles at the door, while Bucky’s nostrils flare, he’s about to tell everyone off, but his anger dissipates as soon as your head pops into the room.

“Bucky, come cuddle?” You push past the men, your hands draping around his shoulders.

“They put you up to this, didn’t they?” Bucky snorted, rubbing his temples, melting as soon as you crawled into his lap. You giggled innocently, kissing his scruffy cheek while he lifted you into his arms, carrying you over to his room.

“Hmm, they’re lucky you’re so sweet babygirl”

The first time

For months, Bucky didn’t do anything more than give you soft kisses, hugs and cuddles. He wanted you, he needed you in a way he never thought was possible, but he didn’t want to rush anything. You were special and if he was going to be intimate with you, it’d be whenever you were ready.

He never wanted to pressure you into anything, but you reassured him you wanted this. Bucky swallowed thickly, looking at your smaller form curled up against his bed waiting for him. You looked so sweet and delicate, wearing just one of his shirts, nervously fidgeting with your hands while he crawled up the bed to you.

“Are you sure about this prinţesă?” He kissed your knee, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb; you felt your face heat up and the name he had for you, nodding without meeting his eyes. “Look at me baby” He tilted your chin to meet his gaze, “I won’t be upset if you want to wait”

You knew he meant it. Not once had he ever made you feel like doing something you didn’t want. His sweetness only made you want him more.

“I want this, I-I want you” you whispered, moaning softly when his lips pressed against yours. He kissed you softly, his hand moving to your waist to lay you down against the pillows. He was on top of you, nipping your jaw, peppering kisses down your neck, his hand caressing the side of your thigh.

Being with you was different.

He natural instinct had always been rough and fast; clothes torn, no build up.

He didn’t want that with his pretty doll. Yet.

He slowly undressed you, pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you bare underneath him. He continued to kiss you while still being fully dressed, chuckling when he felt you squirm under him.

“What is it baby?” He cocked his head, picking up on what you wanted when you fiddled with the buttons on his shirt but he didn’t want to give in, enjoying your flustered state.

“I-um” You fisted his shirt, burning under his gaze, “Take it off”

“Take what off?” He cocked his eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his pretty lips.

“Ugh, I want to see you naked Bucky” You pouted, burying your face into his neck while he grinned, bringing your hands to unbutton his shirt.

“Whatever my babydoll wants, go ahead prinţesă, m’all yours” You squeaked when he pulled you and rolled over so you were straddled on top of him, his hands stroking your bare waist and thighs.

“Want you to take it off babygirl” He couldn't take his eyes off you as you shakily undid his tie, moving to his buttons next. As soon as his shirt was off, you managed to unbuckle his belt and tug off his pants. You blinked at his thick cock straining against his briefs.

Bucky brought his fingers to rub though your soaked folds, groaning at the slick that easily coated his fingers.

“Will you let me taste you?”

“I-no one’s ever-

“I’ll be gentle baby, promise it’ll feel good” Bucky laid you on your back as he worshipped your body, trailing kisses down your skin, while you hesitantly parted your legs, his thick, wide shoulders forcing them apart further.

“So pretty baby” Bucky groaned, kissing your clit, his lips sealing around your clit, sucking softly, careful not to apply too much pressure. “You have the sweetest clit doll”

He could feel his cock throb against the mattress at the way your face contorted, soft whine slipping past your lips as you tried to keep your moans down. He pushed a finger in, gently stretching you out, while you started to grow needy, your hips shifting under him. He pulled away, his beard glistening with your arousal, eyes heavy with lust.

“Want to be inside you prinţesă”

You nodded, while he threw his briefs off, his cock standing tall and proud as he hovered above you.

“Bucky, it-it won’t fit” You whispered, watching his thick cock bob between his legs, grazing on your clit.

“We’ll make it fit baby” His hand gently cupped your face, while your legs moved up to hug his waist. “Tell me if its too much and I’ll stop” He moved his cock through your folds, groaning at how you felt on the tip of his cock.

“Ready?” You nodded, gasping feeling his thick blunt tip prod against your soaked entrance.

“Jaames...” You whimpered feeling him stretch you while he kissed your forehead, stopping his movements with just the tip inside you.

“Shhh angel, it’s just me sweet girl” Your body trembled under his, biting down onto his shoulder as he pushed himself further while holding your body close to his. You were still getting used to the burn and stretch of him as he buried himself to the hilt, clinging onto him while he stayed still.

“I know baby” Bucky stroked your forehead, brushing your hair away from your face, kissing your cheeks. He felt a new type of feral, his sweet girl under him, whining and whimpering over his cock, your pussy dripping around him.

“S’too big Bucky” You bit your lip, your pretty doe eyes locked with his.

“My cocks too big for you baby?” Bucky cooed, while you nodded, throbbing at your nails digging into his skin “Your pussy’s too tight, huh angel, you need me to go slow?”

There was something addicting over how hard Bucky was trying to hold back, his brows furrowed, cock already leaking into you. He started off slow, gentle thrusts, letting you adjust, telling you how perfect you were, his hands laced with yours, pinned against the bed.

“Taking my cock like such a good girl baby”

“You know how pretty you look right now doll?”

You felt the burn start to melt, your moans growing louder while he pushed his entire length in and out of you, his bally smacking against your ass.

“M-more Bucky, please?”

Bucky’s breaths grew heavy, feeling his spine tingle already, you had a different affect on him, his cock already throbbing.

“You’re beautiful prinţesă”

“Could make love to you like this for hours my baby”

“Taking me so well babydoll, making my cock throb, you’re so tight”

He craved so much more of your warmth, his pace speeding up, moaning and grunting each time you cried out. He gripped onto the head board as he started to pound you, the sounds of skin slapping carrying through the room.

“F-uck baby, you feel so good” He moaned into your neck, the muscles on his back tensed as he fucked you harder. “Am-am I too rough sweet girl”

“F-feels g-good James” You cried out from under him, your walls starting to flutter as he hit your g-spot. Bucky moaned, his forehead coming down to rest on yours, lips parted and brushing against each other. “Bucky, harder, please”

The sound your moaning his name made him almost cum on the spot.

“Oh fuck don’t stop, tell me it feels good baby, tell me how bad you want it, keep saying my name”

“JAMESS” The headboard practically slammed against the wall as he abandoned all softness, the both of you feral over each other, chasing your highs.

“Tell me how good my cock makes you feel baby” His hand snaked between your bodies, rubbing and teasing your clit, making you nearly sob.

“S’good Bucky, stretching me, I- fuck m’gonna cum!”

“Cum my gorgeous girl, CUM” “JAMES-I-F-FUCK” You clenched around his cock, cumming and squirting around him while he roared, his pace stuttering as he spilled ropes of cum into you. You both held onto each other, moaning and panting as you came down from your orgasm, your body still convulsing feeling his cum drip out of you.

“Fuck I love you” He panted against your skin, pressing sloppy kisses all over your face. He had a goofy grin, sweeping you into his arms to run you a hot bath.

(Which was a waste of time, considering he spent the rest of the night with you, making an utter sticky mess in his bed)

Bonus: The first tattoo (dedicated to you)

Most of Bucky’s body is covered in dark ink, but none of his pieces were done impulsively. Each piece had a meaning behind it, and his latest one was his favorite.

“Close your eyes baby” He picked you up and placed you on his desk, unbuttoning his shirt while you impatiently waited for him to tell you, you could look. “Alright, open”

“A fairy?” You gasped, looking at his newest piece, your fingers gently tracing over his chest. Above his heart, was his latest piece, a little fairy reading a book while sitting on the moon.

“From when I first met you. I thought you were like a little garden fairy” Bucky blushed, kissing your nose. “Could never get enough of you, the only little fairy to think I’m cute”

Tears stung your eyes, sniffling while he wrapped his arms around you. You smiled against his skin, kissing his chest.

“You like it baby?” His thumbs swiped across your cheeks, stroking your hair while you nodded, struggling to formulate words.

“I-I love y-ou” You choked out, hugging him tighter

“I adore you sweet girl, love you to the moon and back”

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Note

If you’re taking requests, can you do 102 & 110 from the 390 prompt list for Bucky Barnes please 💛

Prompts used:

102. "I had a nightmare about you and just wanted to make sure you were okay."

110. "I just wanted you to know that when I picture myself happy...its with you."

A/N: I hope you all enjoy! 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was dark, filled with smoke and haze as Bucky looked around, attempting to figure out where he was. He waved his arm around trying to clear the path in front of him as his heart pounded in chest, threatening to burst through and bleed out. His mind was reeling as he tried to shut out the noise, screams, shouts, cries, and pleas that rushed to him all at once. It was so much, too much, at once and he felt like putting his hands over ears to ground himself.

His knees felt weak and shaky as he pushed himself to move forward and make some sense of his situation. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right -

But then he heard it. And it caused him to stop dead in his tracks and stand still. It was your voice, your very distressed cry meeting his ears.

"Bucky!"

His head whipped around so quickly it was a shock he didn't snap his own neck. Ragged breath and broken cries left his lips as he tried to make sense of where you were. He followed the trail of your voice as best as he could, pushing his way through crowds of people that were suddenly there.

"Help me!"

Blue eyes scanned the crowd as he looked through the frantic horde. A sound of frustration bubbled up in his throat, along with acid and bile when he realized you weren't nearby.

"Bucky!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

Bucky sat up rod straight as he tried to slow his breathing. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and he was covered in a sheen of sweat. At least he was safe, he realized as he grounded himself by looking around his small apartment. Refrigerator, television, table. Refrigerator, television, table. He repeated the phrase to bring himself down several times until he finally felt the panic subside. He held his tired face in his hands as he slowed and evened his breathing, reminding himself that this was all a nightmare. It wasn’t real, none of it was real - it was all a cruel ploy of his imagination.

With a loud sigh, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and glanced at the time. 3:33. It was too early for anyone to be logically awake, but too late for even night owls. Bucky threw off his thin blanket and stretched, all of his thoughts rushing back to you.

It was all a dream. He had to force himself to remember that. There was no reason for him to fly into a panic and come to check on you. But then again...he had the spare key to your apartment and could easily just pop in and check on you. Five minutes, he reasoned with himself, five minutes was all. In and out to ensure you were safely tucked into bed before he returned home to pretend nothing happened. He’d tell Dr. Raynor about this later. Maybe. He didn’t need her on his case even more about his nightmares and demons.

He quickly swiped his black t-shirt off the floor and tugged it on his haste, not even bothering to change out of his grey sweaters before sliding on his shoes and grabbed his keys. He had no doubt he looked like a mad man, more mad than he even felt half the time, but he didn’t care. There was only one thing on his mind right now and that was ensuring your safety.

»»————-　♡　————-««

When he reached your apartment, he was silent and aloof as he approached the door and looked around to see if anything was amiss; it all looked perfectly normal. Almost too normal in fact, and although the logical part of his mind knew he was overreacting, he couldn’t help but think of the worst possible things. Looking down the hallways, he made quick work of sliding his key in and quietly unlocking your door.

Windows closed, lights off, everything put neatly away as it always was. Not a thing out of place. He shut the door behind him, remembering too late that it always creaked if you closed it at a particular angle and grimaced at the sound. Hopefully you were deep enough in sleep that you wouldn’t stir. Bucky stealthed down the hall to where he spied your open bedroom door and heard the faint sounds of the television still.

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he realized you’d fallen asleep while watching your favorite show; you’d had it on in the background when you’d talked to him on the phone earlier too. And then there you were, sprawled across your bed in your pajamas, mouth open ever so slightly as you snored quietly. You were okay, he told himself, very much alive and very much okay. He nodded to himself as he grabbed the remote for the television and switched it off so you’d have full peace and quiet. But for some reason that was the singular act that snapped you out of your dream sleep and you sleepily rubbed at your eyes as you moved to sit up.

Bucky froze in terror as you yawned and opened your eyes to find him awkwardly standing there. Despite your sleepy state, you beamed at him and his heart relaxed as you held out a hands towards him, “hi Bucky. What are you doing here? ‘ts late and you should be sleeping, silly old man.”

Unable to stop, he came to you, taking your hand in his as he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, causing you to sigh softly, “I-I had a nightmare about you and just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“A nightmare?” you were suddenly wide awake as you looked at him with gentle, curious eyes. You pulled him towards you, “oh Bucky, I’m so sorry, my love. Stay - come lay with me.”

“It’s late,” he reminded you, “you need to sleep and I need to go.”

‘I’m not going to be able to sleep if I worry about you for the rest of the night,” you insisted firmly, standing up in front of him, “just get into bed with me, Bucky. Let me hold and you make sure you’re okay. I love you and just like you worry about me, I worry about you.”

“You don’t-”

“Don’t even try to argue with me James Buchanan Barnes,” you insisted gently, but with bite before you pressed a kiss to his lips. He relaxed, truly relaxed for the first time that evening as he keened into your body, “let me care of you too. You deserve it, Bucky. Stay with me?”

And who was he to refuse such an enticing offer? Blue eyes met your gentle ones as he bit his lip lightly before nodding. Your hands moved to his waist as you reached for the hem of his black shirt and slowly pulled it up and over, letting him discard onto the floor. A hand rested on his chest, just above his heart as you felt it beat, steady and true, under your palm. Bucky swallowed the lump on his throat at your small act of intimacy before letting a world weary exhale. You pressed a few kisses to the bare skin of his shoulder, working your way up his neck and jaw before pausing at his lips. He kicked off his shoes before letting you guide him into your soft, warm bed; it was always a comfort, just like you.

He made himself comfortable, burrowing his way under the covers and taking up the spot he normally occupied as you rejoined him. Curling around his body, you enveloped him, making him feel small and safe, and most importantly loved. It had been a rarity for him, before you came into his life, to feel like this, but you gave and gave and gave, almost never asking for anything in return. But he always gave back, as much as he could, because to him you were everything. Everything he was not, every bit of light and love that he wished he could be. But he was learning, learning to live and love again, and for whatever reason you were there with him, never thinking twice about your decision to so openly love and care for him.

You wrapped your arm around his waist as you rested your head against his back, but not before pressing a few more kisses to his warm, soft skin. He practically hummed in content as his restless thoughts lurched to a screeching halt.

“I know they seem real, Bucky, but they’re just nightmares. Nothing can hurt you anymore,” you whispered softly, tracing aimless shapes over his body, “you’re not him anymore, you’re you. And it’ll be okay, everything will be okay. I’ll fight off all your demons myself if I have to.”

Bucky choked up for a moment, unable to properly form any words, but you felt him nod lightly as he took your hand and laced your fingers together. You didn’t need him to say anything; you knew, you both knew. It was quiet for some time, and eventually you felt yourself start to drift off to sleep as his breathing became heavier and steadier.

“You’ve asked me before about why I stay with you,” you whispered to what you thought was a sleeping Bucky, “and I hope you know it’s because I love you - fully, and completely, every part and parcel. I just wanted you to know that when I picture myself happy...its with you. Always. And even if it takes you a while to realize that, I’ll always be by your side. I’m not going anywhere, Bucky. I am yours and you are mine.”

Bucky’s eyes were wide open now as he listened to your gentle words and stared out the window at the pale moonlight. Suddenly he felt calmer, more relaxed, like he was seeing things with a sense of clarity for the first time in a long time. He swallowed the lump that had welled up in his throat. Blinking back the stinging in his eyes, he brought your hand back up to his chest holding both of your hands above his heart. How vulnerable and human he felt in that moment - how loved.

“I love you, Bucky,” was the last thing you said once you closed your eyes.

You didn’t hear it, but if you’d been awake still, you’d have heard the gentlest I love you spill from his lips. But it was okay, because you knew. You knew.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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taetaesbaebaepsae · 4 years ago

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Lunar Violence (jjk)

Summary: You’re not a big fan of your best friend’s favorite band, Lunar Violence. Their werewolf gimmick makes you roll your eyes, even if the music isn’t too bad. When she drags you to a concert just as the blood moon rises, though, everything changes.

Warnings: werewolf sex, possessive behavior, choking, knotting, marking, heats and ruts so whatever consent issues you feel are within that realm, unrpotected sex, werewolf dick, abo dynamics

Word Count:7445

Rating: Explicit

You're not normally a fan of gimmicks, particularly with your music. So when your best friend begs you for a solid week to go with her to this concert, you're wary when you do a simple Google search.

Lunar Violence might be the dumbest fucking name for a band you've ever heard, but they certainly seem like they're going for a certain vibe. You'd definitely have been into it when you were a teen, the fake fangs, the facial piercings and torn leather pants, the howling they do at the ends of some of their songs.

The music itself isn't bad, the lead singer is stupid hot and has a smooth low tenor and bedroom eyes.

You flip through only a few of the member pictures before making a decision based on the fact that they're good eye candy, at least.

Your friend Jia jumps up and down excitedly when you tell her and shows you the signs she's made. She's got a thing for the one they call Happy, a lean bassist who has a bright smile and a sexy glare.

"What are with these names? The seven dwarfs? I think they're mixing metaphors."

Jia snorts. "They call the drummer Baby because he's the youngest. It’s not that dumb and the music is really good, you’ll love it, I promise!"

"This is so dumb. You owe me."

"If I get close enough to Happy to make eye contact I'm gonna make him mine and then I'll give you anything you want." Jia says determinedly.

It’s a few weeks before the concert, so you find yourself listening to a few albums and actually getting pretty excited about it. It should be a fun time, get you away from the stress of your every day life, at the least.

You had no way of knowing that the night of the concert would complicate your life tenfold.

“Do we always have to schedule concerts around rutting season?” Namjoon whines after hitting yet another wrong chord on his guitar.

“It’s the best part about this job!” Hoseok grins.

“I can’t fucking concentrate being horny all the time, I agree with Joon,” Yoongi agrees, banging his forehead down on the keyboard.

“Should have called you Horny rather than Lucky,” Seokjin snorts, and Hoseok laughs so hard he nearly knocks over his bass guitar.

Jungkook watches them with a fond smile on his face, his brothers. Not by blood, of course but being the only werewolves in the city made them have an instant connection and camaraderie, and they’d created a pack pretty quickly. The music had come later, they’d all been interested in it, all had some talent and all been blessed with good looks, and after that it was only a matter of who did what and stage names.

Kim Seokjin, with his regal looks and sharp jaw: Prince.

Min Yoongi, with the scar over his left eye he’d gotten scrapping with a grey wolf in the woods behind his house in Daegu as a pup: Lucky.

Jung Hoseok with his easy smile and eager nature: Happy.

Kim Namjoon, always so serious and intelligent: Beethoven.

Park Jimin, with his pretty face and sneaky smirk: Sly.

Kim Taehyung with his sweet nature and affectionate personality: Honey.

Finally, Jeon Jungkook, because he'd been barely old enough to breed when they'd met: Baby.

"Baby hasn't had his first rut yet, yeah?" It's Jimin, smirking, always giving Jungkook grief about something.

Jungkook narrows his eyes and chucks a drumstick at him but it's no use, Jimin catching it in one band and twirling it like a goddamn baton. Jungkook would say Jimin was graceful if he hadn't seen him fall off about a dozen barstools and half a dozen stages, sober even for the latter.

“Kinda late, isn’t it?” Seokjin speaks up, and Jungkook knows he’s teasing but it stings a little, nonetheless.

“He’s only just turned 23. You were two weeks from your 23rd before you ever popped a knot, hyung, or have you forgotten?” Namjoon snarks, and Jungkook snickers as Seokjin makes a face, that vein on his neck pulsing just a bit.

He shouldn’t laugh, they’re just as likely to come to blows during the beginning of a rut and in a full moon cycle, but he can’t help himself

Yoongi, as usual, manages to keep the peace by offering to order pizza and foot the bill, a truly saintlike act since they could go through a pizza each, as hot as their temperature would be running by now.

Jungkook doesn’t say that he’s had a knot for two years now, the very thought of his hyungs knowing that makes him blush so much he hides it by wiping his face with a towel, pretending to have been sweating.

Truly, he should have had a rut by now, triggered by all the pheromones' from the shows they’d been doing, this tour had been particularly rough due to the upcoming blood moon, at least for all the other boys, and it isn’t as if Jungkook hasn’t mated, of course, but a full rut? Not even the hint of it. It worries him, but Namjoon keeps assuring him that everyone gets there in time, people are just different.

Taehyung had been a late bloomer himself, not starting his first rut until he met and fell in love with his girlfriend, a short feisty redhead he’d met after a hand injury from stringing his bass guitar and slicing his palm open. She’d been a nurse who scolded him for not coming in sooner and it’d been almost instant, her green eyes triggering every wolf thing about him, or at least that’s how he tells it, all wide eyed and dreamy.

She’s a near constant in Taehyung’s hotel rooms now, sometimes riding along on the tour bus, but he doesn’t let her into anymore of the concerts even when she pouts, because human mates around a group of wolves around rutting season can be a dangerous time.

Taehyung is one of the gentlest wolves Jungkook knows, but he’d seen him snarl when Yoongi so much as winked at the redhead near a rut, so it’s probably for the best.

Anyway, Jungkook wasn’t worried (much). He’d find his true mate eventually, but probably not at a concert. Maybe he’d start his rut there, at least, around the full moon. He’d never have imagined that he’d find both.

The crowd is nice enough, although they seem a little feral. Some of these girls have signs that should be x rated, but you're not one to judge, especially since you've never actually….done anything too x-rated.

You feel a little strange when you enter the concert venue and you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shrug and blame it on the strong drink your friend had made you chug before you entered since she couldn’t finish it all herself.

It’s like there’s something living under your skin, some rush like heat, and it makes you feel antsy, ready to dance along to the music or at least laugh at your friend losing her mind next to you.

There’s a lot of gimmick to the concert and it’s bright and dark at the same time near the stage. You’d swear you’d seen the guitarist strum with no pick, with a sharp claw instead, but you’re sure it’s makeup, part of the show. They’re wearing contacts, too, you’re pretty sure, and the music is good, your friend isn’t wrong.

The song you’d heard that you’d like is actually their encore song, heavy on the bass and drums, and the lead singer even makes your skin feel hot a little when he makes eye contact and winks at you. The last solo the lights come down on the drummer, he’s on the back stage so all you can see is his long hair bouncing, the flex of his admittedly impressive biceps as he finishes the song.

You’ve been jumping up and down and singing along so much that you’re sweating and feeling a bit dizzy, so you drag your friend out the back alley while she’s still swooning, having gotten a direct smile from her favorite bassist.

“Did you see him? He looked right at me! We’re in love, Y/n. Do you want to be my maid of honor?” She’s babbling when you hear the click of a lighter next to you.

There’s people milling about, it wasn’t exactly a sold out show but there was a decent crowd, and people are now piling into the bar next door.

“Did you like the show?”

When you turn your head you’re shocked to see that it’s the lead singer, a couple strands of his silver hair falling over his eye as he smiles at you.

“Oh. Oh, yes, I liked it very...very much,” you stammer. He’s even more handsome up close. Those are some really good contacts, you can’t tell they aren’t real at all, even though surely no one’s eyes are a violet color like that.

“Sly!” Your friend screams, and you jolt forward, surprised.

The singer’s hand lights on your shoulder and you look down. You have time to think that they must make great money for these expensive special effects because they sure do look like claws before your friend rushes past you, yelling because Happy had come out the back with the rest of the band.

There’s no mob or anything, maybe a dozen people other than you and Jia, but it makes you a bit anxious nonetheless, especially since you’re still feeling just as antsy, hot and dizzy as you were before.

It might be worse, actually, as you stand outside in the moonlight.

“Sly’s just my stage name.” His voice sounds softer, closer to your ear as he leans in. “You can call me Jimin.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, unused to feeling this way. You’re usually more outgoing, talkative, but it feels so strange. You find yourself looking up at the sky as if looking for the moon.

It’s better, once you’re inside the bar, there’s not as much of a crowd and you’re sitting at a big table with Sly...Jimin, you remind yourself, and Jia and Happy, who seems to fit his name well, laughing open and loud with your best friend as if they’ve known each other forever.

After a few hours and a couple of drinks you’ve lost most of that antsy feeling since being indoors, and you and Jimin vibe well, becoming fast friends. You’re both flirty and talkative after getting to know each other, and your mood is lifted from the concert, the alcohol, and the socialization.

You even laugh about calling their gimmick dumb as they dodge questions about where they get their makeup and accessories. You assume it’s some kind of sponsorship situation or contract, not thinking much of it.

You manage to excuse yourself long enough to look for the bathroom, although Jia abandons you since she’s made her way into Happy’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and with a blissful smile you’re not sure you’ve ever seen on her.

There’s someone standing in the hall and it’s a narrow hallway and he’s pretty wide from the back so you stumble a little when you turn, placing a hand on the wall.

“Oh, excuse me!” You say, brightly, but when he turns you gasp, a little surprised by the bright red of his eyes before you realize it’s another member of Lunar Violence.

“Hello,” he says, quietly with a little smile and he has these prominent front teeth that are pretty cute, make him look a lot less intimidating, despite those contacts and an eyebrow piercing and his size.

“Oh, hello! You’re…”

“Baby,” he blurts, and it makes you giggle.

You feel a little tipsier than you’d realized, and you guess it must be since you’ve been sitting down for an hour or so and just gotten up.

He puts a hand over his face, embarrassed. “My name is Jungkook,” he explains. “I’m the drummer?”

It’s cute how his voice pitches up into a question, as if you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s definitely a bit more modest than the other two members you’d met, with Jimin and Happy (who you’d just learned also goes by Hoseoki), bragging about tours and performances.

“Pretty big for a baby,” you tease, and he makes an embarrassed sound in the back of his throat.

“I keep trying to get them to let me change it,” he mutters.

You introduce yourself and he smiles again, and his eyes aren’t as red as you’d thought at first, anyway, maybe it’s just the light. You brush past him as you continue to the bathroom after excusing yourself, and it’s a little zing through you, like static electricity.

It takes you longer in the bathroom than it usually would, that last drink really must have packed a punch, and when you return to the table Jungkook is sitting there, too, next to your empty chair. Jimin looks a little sullen and pouty, but he smiles at you, those violet eyes crinkling up at the corners, and you give him a bright smile back.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is all energy, jiggling his leg and tapping his fingers on the table and Hoseok seems to be watching him intently.

The atmosphere in general seems to have changed, and after exchanging numbers with everyone with the urging of Jia, you two excuse yourself.

The three men walk you outside and Jimin is close while Jungkook hangs back. You imagine Jimin is so close since you mentioned feeling a bit dizzy and he asks you twice if he can call you a car but you tell him that the fresh air will do you good.

It’s funny, the moonlight seems to energize you a bit. When Jimin leans in to kiss you on the cheek, you jump a little at a sound behind you, something like a bark.

Jimin jolts back a little, eyes widening, and you both laugh at your nerves.

“Stray dog,” you remark, and Jimin snorts.

“Something like that.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “So what exactly the fuck happened after I left?”

Jimin is sullen on the couch, arms crossed over his chest with a busted lip and Jungkook is sitting next to Hoseok on the floor on the other side of the hotel room with tissue up his nose, Hoseok tilting his head back.

“Baby is about to go into rut,” Taehyung sings, laughing, his girlfriend draped over him on the bed drowsily, his teeth marks littering her neck and throat.

“Don’t,” Yoongi warns. “Everyone’s just wound up. Full moon is in two days, after all, cut him some slack.”

“Sees one girl he likes and suddenly no one else can talk to her,” Jimin complains, gingerly working his tongue across his lip ring to see if it’s torn.

“You tried to kiss her,” Jungkook growls, and Hoseok pushes on his chest to keep him from getting up.

Jungkook can’t explain why his wolf wanted to rip Jimin’s throat out when he leaned in to kiss you, he’d just met you, didn’t even know your last name, but it was visceral, sudden, something crawling up his throat. He’d almost moved forward to do it before Hoseok said his name, sharply.

“We all get a little possessive about potential mates around the full moon,” Namjoon reasons. “But that’s not the way to handle it, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hangs his head and removes the tissue from his nose with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, hyung.” He looks over at Jimin but he means it for Namjoon. He’s still bitter, somehow, about Jimin’s hand on your lower back, his lips brushing your cheek. It makes his head feel fuzzy, his guts roll.

Namjoon, on the other hand, had been the one to “discover” Jungkook, back when he had no idea why his eyes were starting to change color with the moon cycles or why his nails grew out like claws. He’d started learning percussion just to get rid of some of the energy he had around those times, and he’d been 17 when Namjoon approached him in a music store when Jungkook was looking into buying cymbals.

Jungkook had been abandoned when he was a baby, adopted at four years old and he had no idea about his wolf lineage, or even that they existed, until Namjoon explained it to him.

“Jungkook doesn’t know his lineage,” Namjoon reminds them all. “He might just be presenting as an alpha, that’s a lot around the full moon, Jimin, you remember.”

Jimin grumbles something under his breath and Jungkook has to take a deep breath through his nostrils, smelling iron from their scuffle earlier, in order not to lunge across the room and hit him again.

Eventually, Jungkook has to move to his own room despite usually bunking with Jimin, and he finds himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. He keeps seeing your bright smile, your curls bouncing around as you talked and laughed, mostly at Jimin, and it makes him stiffen to think of how Jimin had met you first.

Why did it matter, anyway? You’re just a person, just like he is, just a girl, and he doesn’t have the best track record with talking to girls, anyway. You’d been in the front row, with your friend who Hoseok had gotten so smiley about, he’d seen you just before he started his set, his vision clearer around the full moon.

The others laughed at him for how he talked about “the wolf,” as if it wasn’t a part of him, as if it wasn’t who he was, but that’s how it had always felt. He just hadn’t had a name for it until he’d met Namjoon. It was like this thing, inside him, this beast, something that clawed and scratched to get out.

Seokjin keeps telling him that he’s fighting the wolf, that’s why he hasn’t gone into rut or popped his knot, that’s why he feels so achy and fidgety around the moon cycles, that’s why he hasn’t shifted. Namjoon would always respond there was no way to know that but Seokjin just rolled his eyes.

“Aish, I’m your hyung, listen to me. I fought mine, too, when I was young, and when I shifted I broke a few bones. You should give in, let it ride in the front seat once in a while.”

Jungkook had nodded at the time but now, he doesn’t know how to do that. Drumming helped, it was a lot of work and energy expelled and it felt like he could let him out, the wolf, just a little. It’s why he’d gotten so big, staying active and lifting weights was something the wolf liked.

The wolf came sometimes when he masturbated, too, when he’d feel particularly worked up around the full moon, after a concert, sweaty and rolling his hips into his hand.

When he tries it after meeting you, he can’t even finish, ending up panting and sore, the wolf still snarling over the memory of Jimin’s lips barely brushing across your cheek.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Jungkook who texts you first. Wanna go for a drink?

You’re not sure whether to say yes at first, you’ve been feeling so strange. You can barely sleep, your skin feeling hot, as if you’d burned yourself with a too hot shower. You think about that night at the concert a lot, Jimin’s violet eyes, Jungkook’s almost red ones, how odd you’d felt.

You would have talked to Jia about it but she’s been abducted by the werewolf band, apparently, you’ve barely seen her in a week and when you had she’d been littered with hickeys and with a big goofy smile.

Part of you wonders if this is all some sex ring cult but she seems happy, jubilant even, so you agree, meeting Jungkook at a downtown bar.

He’s there before you arrive, you can see him through the window sitting at a table, looking wide and a bit intimidating until he lifts his head and smiles at you with a little wave.

His eyes are a warm brown now, pretty and wide, you’re able to notice the shape more without the contacts.

Jungkook is still all energy, maybe that’s just how he is, talking to you more and more as the nights go on and you two share a pitcher of beer, scooting his chair closer. You find he flushes a pretty rose when you flirt with him and can’t stop laughing when he nearly falls out of his chair when you prop your legs up in his lap.

By the end of the night he can’t stop smiling at you and you’re intrigued, moreso than you’d imagined you would be when you’d first met him, smiling shyly at you at the bar near the concert. You start to feel funny again, your head fuzzy, probably from the alcohol.

When you tell him, he’s all wide eyed concern.

You giggle. “Now I know why they call you Baby.”

He huffs a little.

He walks you outside just as he did before but this time he doesn’t hang back, and when you reach the alleyway, he places a hand on the swell of your hip as you take a few deep breaths of the night air.

You’re surprised, laugh a little until you look up into his eyes. You’d swear they looked red tinged again, but surely it’s just the beer.

“Not a baby,” he murmurs, moving closer, pressing you up against the brick with his body, and you hitch in a breath.

“No?” You ask, boldly trailing your finger along his collarbone through the black tshirt he’s wearing.

He shakes his head, leaned down close enough to your face that his nose brushes yours.

“Prove it,” you tease, and he makes this rumbling sound in the back of his throat that makes goosebumps break out across your flesh.

He leans down further, nips at your lower lip, and you moan, body surging forward toward his as if it was made to fit it. You’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but his tongue is in your mouth, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

You feel hot all over, dizzy in the most pleasant way, at least until he pulls away, gasping.

You whine, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever made before, when he’s not touching you anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He’s gone before you can even gasp out another whine of his name, and the moonlight on your skin burns instead of cools.

Jungkook tells this story in a burst to his bandmates the next day, hungover with his head pounding.

“You just left her there?” Jimin says, his face shocked, and Jungkook feels the wolf make a growl start at the back of his throat.

Namjoon puts a hand on his shoulder and it turns into a whine instead.

“I’ve never felt him that close, hyung. Right at the surface. I wanted to…”

Namjoon and Seokjin meet eyes above Jungkook’s lowered head.

Jimin catches it. Jimin catches everything, it’s one of the best and worst things about him.

“What? You think…” Jimin laughs. “No. She can’t be his.... She’s not a wolf, I would’ve smelled it when-”

Jungkook surges out of his seat, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. “When what, Jimin?”

Jimin’s eyes glow a pale violet as he snarls back, uncaring that Jungkook towers over him.

In the end, Namjoon and Seokjin have to separate them physically as they bark and snarl at each other.

Hoseok and Taehyung are missing, having holed up to ride out their ruts with their human mates instead of the house the seven share.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. “He’s definitely presenting as an alpha.”

“No shit,” Namjoon barks, unusually on edge.

Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung are the betas of the group, and until now there had only been a slight difference among the bandmates despite their different rankings.

Alpha pheromones were stronger and their senses were more heightened around rutting season, particularly for other mates.

In the end, they have to completely change how they house themselves, with Jimin sharing a room with Yoongi, and Jungkook sharing with Seokjin.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jungkook says miserably, his wolf finally calmed as he sits down on the bed.

“It’s not your fault,” Seokjin says, voice much less harsh than Namjoon’s had been earlier when he’d scolded him. “I saw Namjoon during this time, and it wasn’t easy.”

Jungkook looks up at the elder with wide eyes. “Really?”

Seokjin snorts and nods. “Yeah, around the full moon he was unbearable, snarling at everything.”

“I just didn’t want to scare her or...or hurt her...I wanted to put her against the wall and…” Jungkook trails off, embarrassed.

Seokjin only smiles and ruffles Jungkook’s hair. “That’s normal too, Baby. You wouldn’t have hurt her, especially if it’s what we think it is.”

“What...what does that mean?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Something you gotta work out on your own.”

Jungkook groans and flops down on the bed as Seokjin laughs, heading downstairs to make dinner while things are calm.

He has trouble sleeping again, but this time instead of wondering why, he knew, could almost feel the soft skin of your hip on his palm like it was still there, how you’d moaned into his mouth, whined for him.

Jungkook isn’t sure there’s a cold enough shower to help.

You can’t seem to sit still as the full moon nears, feeling like you might jump out of your skin. You can’t count the number of friends you’d called but no one seems up to going out. You bite your lip while looking at Jungkook’s contact on your phone screen.

If you think about it long enough, you can still feel the way he pressed against you, how the hair on the nape of your neck stood up when he nipped at your lip, how hot you’d felt, how wet…

You sigh and scroll up, seeing Jimin’s name instead. Jimin had been fun to be with the night you’d met, easy to talk to, less….intense. And he didn’t make you feel like you were about to crawl out of your skin, so you ask if he wants to meet up for a drink.

It’s late, by the time you decide, and the moon is out, waxing toward fullness. There’s only a tiny sliver remaining, big in the sky, and you can’t stop looking up at it as you walk to the bar near your house.

You’d chosen it because it’s close and not because it’s where hot drummer Jeon Jungkook, also known as Baby, had pressed you against an alley wall and made you almost…

Jimin jolts you out of your thoughts, calling your name and waving as you approach the door. He’s leaned against the doorjamb, giving you a smirk and you think now you understand why they call him Sly.

It makes you smile and again, you vibe well with him, you get along in the best way, conversation is easy and you don’t feel gooseflesh or your hair stand up when he brushes his fingers against yours.

Jimin knows he’s playing with fire when he replies to your text, but they don’t call him Sly for nothing, and you’re interesting, for a human. He’s only met one other female wolf, a tall and feisty woman with a sharp tongue and the most beautiful brown eyes, but she’d had a mate and well...things hadn’t ended well.

Jungkook thinks of his wolf as this separate entity but Jimin disagrees, let’s his wolf do what it wants, so that all the bad things he feels have some kind of outlet. This was especially so after he’d lost his brown eyed wolf girl, so he invites you back to the house, knowing that Jungkook will be at the gym all night before the full moon tomorrow.

In fact, all of the others will be out, finding fun of their own, and why shouldn’t Jimin do the same? It isn’t as if Jungkook has marked you, or even can, since you’re human.

Your eyes aren’t quite the same shade of hers, but he can pretend.

Jungkook works out until his muscles ache but nothing can shake this feeling he has, like something’s wrong. When he leaves the gym even the moon looks off, as if it’s dimmer than it should be, and something’s pulling him home, like this tug in his gut. It feels like it used to as a kid in his first foster home, when he’d get so anxious he’d climb onto the roof and stare up at it.

He’s almost running as he gets closer, feeling his skin prickle as he gets to the house, his wolf so close to the surface he can feel the fur that isn’t there yet standing up on the back of his neck.

He smells Jimin first, wrinkling his nose at the alpha pheromones, and when he walks upstairs it isn’t as if he decides to let the wolf take over, or struggles with it - it’s instant.

You’re standing in the hall, head tilted up, and Jimin is leaning against the wall, smiling down at you, and when you lean up to just softly brush your lips against Jimin’s, Jungkook’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, and the wolf barks, loud and warning.

You turn, surprised, and Jungkook doesn’t think, doesn’t act, it’s all wolf. He grabs you by your waist, hefts you up over your shoulder, and begins to walk you to his room.

Jimin protests and Jungkook growls over his shoulder, daring him to try something. Later, Jungkook is glad his friend didn’t follow, because he isn’t sure that he could have held the wolf back.

You kick and yell and beat on his back and Jungkook doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s plopped you down on his bed, crawling toward you.

You kick him in the chest and it barely registers. You stand up and that’s when he snaps back to himself, at least to a degree.

"Don't leave. You can't leave." It's panicked, his voice, higher pitched almost like a whine.

"I can do whatever I want," you snap.

He makes this sound between a whine and a snarl and it's startling, strange, and you stop at the door.

"I know that! I know, but he doesn't!"

"He..." you turn to look at him and he's trembling, head down, and you step closer, worried. "Baby, what do you mean?"

Jungkook just stands there, still trembling, until you reach out to touch his hair, gently. "He thinks he owns you, that you're his, that no one else can touch you." He explains, almost in a whisper.

"Who is he?" You ask slowly.

He raises his head slow and you gasp when you look into his eyes, instead of a warm brown this burnt amber, red hued.

"The wolf."

You stand there, blinking in surprise, for a long moment before actively telling your feet to move to the door. Unfortunately, your brain seems to have some kind of disconnect to your limbs, because you just step even closer, lean in and inhale along his neck, this scent of sweat and the iron of the weights he’d been lifting washing over you.

Rationally, you know that you should be shocked, horrified, even, that werewolves are real and you’re apparently standing in a house full of them but all you can do is run your tongue along the vein in his throat and Jungkook is trembling all over, whimpering like a puppy.

“Y/n, please, don’t-” he chokes out.

“Why not?” You murmur against his skin, the scent of him making your body react like you’ve never felt before. There’s this ache between your thighs that you’ve only felt a hint of before and you want more, nipping at his skin, unable to think clearly.

“He wants to...wants you,” Jungkook stutters, balling his hands into fists to keep from touching you.

“He does? Or you do?” You ask, lifting your head to pout at him, and Jungkook groans.

“Both,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Then take me,” you say, and you don’t even know where the words came from. Your head feels light on your shoulders, dizzy with the scent of him, how his skin tastes under your tongue, and you do what he did to you the last night you’d seen him, nipping at his lower lip. Your canine pierces the skin and you taste iron on your tongue

Jungkook growls and lifts you again, this time with his hands under your ass and thighs and your legs wrap around him instantly. He all but throws you down on the bed, this time, and you whimper when he grips one of your thighs with his big hand, squeezing the flesh there.

“Mine,” he snarls, that high pitched whine at the end, and it makes you arch your back, claw your nails across his shoulders.

Jungkook leans down to sniff at your neck and growls again, wrinkling his nose and when you open your eyes he’s staring down at you with those red/amber eyes.

You look back defiantly but you’re rolling your hips against his, you can feel him hard against your core and even though you’d never gone all the way with anyone before you want him inside you, can’t think of anything else.

“You smell like him,” he accuses, voice hoarse, and his wide eyes fade back to brown, just slightly, the color dilating around his pupils.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, feeling something like guilt, even though nothing had happened, really, and even it if it had…

He rubs his nose against your throat, covers you with his body like he’s replacing any of Jimin’s scent with his own. He licks against your neck, bites down on your skin, making you yelp.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whines. “I’m sorry, I have to. You’re mine, I have to mark you, have to scent you anywhere he touched you,” he tries to explain, his hands skating down your ample curves.

“It’s okay,” you say, and somehow you mean it, you understand, the very thought of Jungkook smelling like anyone else makes your heart jump into your throat, something primal rise in your gut. “I know, baby.”

“You’re mine?” He says again, voice pitching up into a question just like when he’d introduced himself and it scares you, the way it makes your heart ache.

Instead of speaking you kiss him again, hard, moving your hands to his hair to get him closer. You had worn a skirt and halter out, it’s so warm even though it’s close to winter, your skin feeling so hot under the moonlight that you couldn’t wear much else.

Even as you kiss him he’s tearing at your clothes and you lean up to help him until you’re bare beneath him and panting, this whining noise coming from your throat that you can’t explain.

“God,” Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I-”

“You haven’t...haven’t done this before?” Your eyes widen.

Jungkook realizes what you mean and he blushes a bit. “I’ve...yeah, I’ve done this before but not...not like this. I feel like...the wolf feels like...he’s been crazy. Since the first moment I saw you.”

“Like you’re gonna jump out of your skin? Always feeling...hot?” You ask.

Jungkook nods slowly, eyes widening.

“Me too,” you admit. “I don’t...I don’t know what it means. That’s why I came out with Jimin, I-”

Jungkook cuts you off with a choked whine. “It means you’re supposed to be mine.”

He snuffles against your neck again, hands at your hips, still holding back, trembling. “It means he never should have touched you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, even though you know you have nothing to apologize for. “I want you. I’ve never...I’ve never done this before but I want you so bad,” you admit, clutching at his tshirt, pulling it up until he gets on his knees and pulls it off, tossing it to the side. You spread your hands across his chest and he lets out a wrecked moan.

“You’re holding back,” you accuse.

He nods. “The wolf, he doesn’t….I don’t want to hurt you. Especially...fuck, no one’s touched you like this before?” His hands slide up and down your thighs as he stares down at your body, your breasts, the cleft of your cunt.

Jungkook knows that shouldn’t make him so hard, shouldn’t make his dick pulse in his sweats, shouldn’t make the wolf keen with pride. Mine mine mine, the first, the only is all his brain is chanting, he feels dizzy like he’s drank too much even though he hasn’t had a drop.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, but he can’t, can’t let the wolf out, he’s afraid he’ll rip you apart. You’re human and a virgin and he can’t risk hurting you.

The wolf won’t even let him say it, so he just shakes his head.

You huff out a breath, your body aching all over, need making your arousal coat your thighs. You don’t know what you’re going to say until you say it.

“Should I ask Jimin to do it? I bet he can smell me,” you taunt, shocking yourself.

Jungkook freezes, his eyes bleeding to red again and one hand jolting out to wrap around your throat.

“Don’t,” he warns.

You know you should be cautious since you’re about to fuck an actual werewolf, but fuck, you’re so hot, you can’t think, you need something inside you and you drop your feet to the bed, spreading your legs wide.

“Jimin would mark me. He’d fuck me, fill me full like I want.”

Jungkook feels something in him snap, and his heart hurts and his cock aches and the wolf is keening, clawing inside him and he can’t control it anymore, just like before.

“Never,” he growls, squeezes his fingers around your throat and you gasp, your stomach aching with need.

Finally, finally he slides his fingers along your pussy and you choke out a sob as his thumb slips across your clit but it’s not enough.

“Jungkook,” you whimper. “Make me yours.”

“Already mine,” he murmurs, and finally slides two fingers inside you, making you cry out. “You’re already mine but I’m gonna give you what you want, mark you, fuck you, make sure Park fucking Jimin never so much as sniffs at you again.”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yes, please, please.”

Jungkook still worries somewhere in the back of his mind that he’ll hurt you, that the wolf will, and by now he understands they’re one and the same but you’re rolling your hips up and his cock feels heavy and full like he’s about to burst, somehow wider at the base and he rips down his sweats, fucking you with three fingers now.

When his cock bounces against his stomach you gasp, and if you’d been in your right mind you might worry he’s too big but something inside you is crying out in pleasure just at the sight of it. You spread your legs wider and he releases your throat, leaning over to kiss you instead, biting your lip as he slowly works himself inside you.

It’s a tight fit even after three fingers and you’re whining into his mouth, wanting more.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, far from it although a little less experienced than some of his band members (Hoseok had once bragged about fucking a house of sorority sisters during a rut), but the way you clench around him has his hips twitching, wanting to buck into you even if it would split you open.

Despite his worry, neither he or the wolf wants to hurt you, though, so he waits for you to adjust even as you beg, waits until you can take all of him.

He’s barely realized that he’s popped his knot until he looks down to see where you’ve joined and he groans. He knows how to do this, has been talked to (endlessly, by Taehyung, about his human girlfriend and how she desperately wants to take his knot and they’re working on it but it will take time and training), knows that you can’t take his knot but the wolf is howling for it, wants to fuck you hard and then pop it inside you, spill a littler into your womb.

You whine and pulse around him, reaching up to tug at his hair. “Kookie,” you pout. “Baby. Want you inside me, fuck me harder, please-”

“I can’t-” he chokes out, but then you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper and the wolf growls, leans down, mine mine mine chanting in his head. My mate.

You felt a tiny pop when Jungkook first entered you, nothing painful and then just need, you want more and more and you don’t even know how to say it. You look up at him, near tears, needing something that you feel he won’t give you.

“I’m not yours yet,” you slur, and he looks pained, his eyes dilating from warm brown to amber red again and again.

He rocks his hips against you slow, and you’ve orgasmed twice already, once from his fingers and one from his cock but it’s not enough and you whine, it comes out almost inhuman, like his.

“Fill me up,” you urge, and Jungkook tries to hold the wolf back, he really does, but he’s too far gone, this close to the full moon and in the start of his first rut.

Jungkook groans, fucks you harder and faster and when you cry out his name his balls draw up and he thrusts forward harder than he’d meant to, popping his knot inside you.

You make a surprised sound and his eyes pop open, his hands cupping your face even as his hips twitch as he cums, spills inside you.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry,” he mourns. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he babbles, kissing along your neck and throat, seeing that he’d already marked you twice, once on each side of your throat, and he barely remembers it.

You let out a happy sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling finally sated, at least for the moment. “What are you sorry for, silly baby?”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” He asks, and you look up into his eyes and they’re heterochromatic, now, red hued amber and brown both.

“You’d never hurt me,” you mumble against his throat.

“Never,” he promises. “Never, I love you so much.”

You’re half asleep, sated with him still inside you, planting soft kisses on your lips and face. You don’t know where you’d learned the word, but it feels right when you say it, right before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too, Alpha.”

It takes a while to understand, especially between Jungkook being barely able to leave his room since he’s in rut and you’re in heat, but eventually, you figure it out.

Your great grandmother had been an omega werewolf, and it’s a recessive gene so you’d been the lucky one to receive it. Since you had never shifted because your gene wasn’t activated by male wolves, you had no smell.

At least, not until the full moon, when you shifted into what Jungkook says is the prettiest wolf he’d ever seen.

After, when you’d near your heat, Jungkook would snap and snarl at the boys so much just for talking to you that it made you roll your eyes, but eventually you got the dates right (for the most part, there’d been one instance in which Jimin had made a snarky comment and Jungkook had lunged at him and they’d gone rolling down the stairs), and you holed up in your apartment, instead.

Jungkook was working with Seokjin to understand that the wolf is him instead of some seperate entity. You tell him you’ve always known that. From what you know now, if the wolf wasn’t, he would have taken you the very first night. True mates are rare, and you’d both known it the whole time, even when you hadn’t.

You and Jia went to every concert, her always telling you her neverending sexcapades with Hoseok to be able to take his knot, front row, waiting for your Alpha’s set. It’s cute, you think, that they call him Baby on stage but he’s your Alpha, especially since he’s both, always, to you.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #werewolf!jungkook #bts werewolf au #jungkook imagine #bangtanshadowfamily #bangtanheadquarters #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub

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writeroutoftime · 4 years ago

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baby makes three

(gif created by me)

pairing: colin bridgerton x fem!reader (this is for the 3 anons who wanted to see a similar situation with colin being a father!)

summary: snapshots of colin throughout your pregnancy with your first child

warnings: pregnancy

words: 1.7k

a/n: this is the story that kept disappearing in my drafts, but it has reappeared, which is why I’m posting 2 stories back to back! 😂anyway, this is such a sweet thought, and I adored writing it! hopefully it doesn’t seem too choppy, I just thought it would be interesting to write little snippets of colin and yourself preparing to be parents! (as well as some fluff once the baby is born!) anyway, please let me know what you think, and have a lovely day!

oOoOo

the announcement

“You’re what?”

“Pregnant, Colin.” you repeated, unable to keep the smile off your face. “And you’re going to be the most wonderful father!”

Immediately, Colin’s face morphed from one of disbelief to pure joy in a matter of seconds before he shot forward and wrapped you up in his arms. His laughter and lightheartedness was infectious, and your heart swelled at his reactions. A gasp of surprise left your lips as he spun your around before setting you back down and placing a chaste kiss against your lips.

Growing up in the Bridgerton family, Colin always knew that he wanted a large family of his own one day. The day he had met you, he knew you were the one for him, and from that day he had imagined starting a family with you. Now, those dreams were coming to fruition, and neither of you could be happier.

Once recovered, Colin quickly got down on his knees and lovingly placed a kiss to your covered stomach, staring up at you with intense love and devotion in his eyes. You reached down and carded your hand through his thick, chestnut locks, thinking how lucky you were to have someone like Colin in your life.

“Hello, little bean.” he whispered sweetly. “I cannot wait to meet you, so you just stay safe and keep growing in there until it’s time.” Colin instructed, pulling a laugh from your lips.

“Little bean?” you questioned the nickname for your unborn child.

Colin shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Well, we don’t know if we are to have a son or a daughter, so I shall call our precious gift ‘little bean’ for the time being.” he explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well this little bean and myself love you dearly, Colin.” you praised, smiling down at your husband.

“And I, the both of you.” he vowed, offering your stomach one more kiss before standing up, unable to keep his lips away from yours.

5 months

Colin beamed as he watched you walk into the drawing room and sat down, admiring the glow that you seemed to radiate. The months were passing quickly, and now that there was a visible bump it made your situation feel all the more real. Of course, you had received so much love and support from not only Colin, but the rest of his family, especially the women who had already experienced a pregnancy of their own. It warmed your heart to know you were not alone in this endeavor.

“Oh!” you suddenly gasped, quickly setting your teacup down and rubbing your stomach where you felt a slight discomfort.

“Is everything alright, love?” Colin asked as he rushed to your side. “Do we need to call for the doctor? My mother?” he listed, worry glazing over his eyes as he hovered, waiting for your instruction.

The movement repeated and with your hand rested over your bump, you smiled, realizing what had just happened. “No, no, everything is perfect.” you whispered, lost in wonder and awe.

“Then what is it?” Colin inquired, still concerned and needing answers.

Wordlessly, you grabbed his hand and rested it on your stomach, moving it around for a few seconds before pressing down. Colin was about to protest further until he felt the same sensation you did just moments before and his eyes widened at the spot his hand rested on. His eyes then flicked up to meet yours, and neither of you could contain the joy you felt.

“That’s our little bean in there.” he whispered, voice shaky and eyes misty.

“That it is.” you whispered, not wanting to disrupt the moment, though you let out a small giggle when you felt the baby kick again.

“She’s going to be just as beautiful as her mother.” he said.

“She?” you questioned. “What happened to little bean?”

“Oh, she’s still our little bean, but I just have a hunch that we’re going to have a daughter to love and spoil.” Colin said, pulling you into your side and soothingly rubbing his hand up and down your bump, and that is where the two of you stayed for the rest of the afternoon.

8 months

The further along in your pregnancy you were, the more you found it difficult to sleep, tossing and turning as your child constantly kicked against your stomach. Luckily, Colin was always there to help you and even stayed awake with you on those restless nights. However, one night when sleep was achieved quite easily, you found yourself awakening to Colin’s soft voice. It only took a moment to realize he was talking to your baby, so you kept your eyes closed and your breath even, not wanting to interrupt the moment.

“I can’t wait until I can hold you in my arms, little bean.” he whispered to your belly, hand supporting his one hand while the other ever so gently rested on your stomach. “You’re mother and I cannot wait for you to be in our lives, and you’re going to be so spoiled between your mother and I and all your aunts and uncles.”

It was difficult to hold in a laugh as you imagined Colin’s words to be true. The two of you were eager to start your family, and the rest of the Bridgerton clan always enthusiastically welcomed another niece or nephew to dote upon.

“Speaking of your mother,” Colin continued. “we are so lucky that she is in our lives. I know that this has been difficult for her, but you have been blessed with the best mother. We’ll both have to love and appreciate her as much as possible.”

By that point, it was exceedingly difficult to keep your act up as you felt tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. How were you so lucky to have such a caring and attentive man like Colin in your life? It seemed as though your baby had been listening and agreed with Colin because right after he spoke, another sharp kick could be felt.

“Are you giving your mother trouble, little bean?” he asked, brows furrowed as he awaited another kick. “What did I just say about being kind to your mother? It is not nice to kick her that hard, especially at night.” he reprimanded in the gentlest voice. “Even if she is pretending to be asleep.” he added with a smug grin, looking up to meet your eyes.

Sheepishly, you looked down at your husband. “How did you know I was awake?” you asked, curious as to what it was that gave you away.

“I could feel your small laugh earlier on.” he admitted, and shifted his body so that he was face to face with you instead of your stomach. “But I truly meant every word I spoke.” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips.

When you pulled away, you couldn’t stop the tears that ran down your cheeks, moved by the love Colin always gave you. “I’m so lucky to be doing this with you by my side. You are going to be the best father, Colin.” you told him, your voice watery but sincere.

Colin gently brushed away your tears and kissed the spots where tear tracks had been left behind as he entwined your hand with his. “I think I am the lucky one, love.” he countered, and curled into your side for the rest of the night.

birth

The moment you went into labor, Colin was there to hold your hand while sending out for the midwife and doctor as well as his mother. When the doctor tried to shove him out of the room, Colin held his ground and demanded that he be allowed to stay by his wife’s side; he was not about to leave you to fend for yourself at this hour. Hesitantly, the doctor granted his request, and you sighed a breath of relief, as Violet smiled to herself at the sight, her heart warmed at how dedicated the two of you were to each other.

Hours later, filled with blood, sweat, and tears, you were propped up in your bed, gently holding your daughter in your arms. It was a tender scene between yourself, Colin, and y/d/n. Colin held you in arms and kissed the top of your head while gently stroking his daughter’s cheek with his thumb. It felt surreal that you child was now here and that your family had grown to three.

“She’s beautiful.” you said, voice barely above a whisper, unable to tear your eyes from your daughter.

“Just like her mother.” Colin responded, squeezing you a bit tighter. “Thank you, y/n.” he suddenly said, causing you to look up at him.

“Whatever for?” you asked.

Colin took a moment to collect his thoughts before he spoke. “For starting our family, for being so strong to support our daughter until she was ready to meet us, for making me so incredibly happy every single day.” he listed over, each one more passionate than the last.

It was already an emotional day, and you didn’t think your heart could feel any more full, but as usual, Colin found a way to prove you wrong. “I love you so much.” you told him, and he leant his head down to rest against yours as the two of you spent the next couple hours admiring the newest addition to your family.

Later that night, Colin found that he could not sleep, the excitement and adrenaline of the previous day’s events still coursing through his veins. Carefully, he untangled himself from your embrace and padded over to the bassinet in the corner of your room where your daughter slept. He knelt down next to her and simply watched as she slept her first night. A few minutes later, your daughter opened her eyes and met Colin’s gaze.

“Hello there, little bean.” he whispered, not wanting to frighten her or wake you up. “I just want to let you know that I love you so, so much, and I’m always going to be here to protect you.” Colin promised as he offered a finger for your daughter to grab a hold of with her tiny hand, ready for everything the future would bring.

oOoOo

tagging: @dreaming-about-fanfictions, @elennox03

#colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader

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voiceless-terror · 4 years ago

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I mean, I don’t believe in the predictive power of dreams, obviously, but still, it’s a deeply unsettling thing to find. I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. - Episode 11, Dreamer

Jon stares down at the paper in his hands.

He’s had many an unkind thought towards Gertrude, his predecessor, the woman responsible for this mess and the current bane of his existence. She’s been the topic of most of his grumbling as he sorts through piles of nonsense and decaying cardboard boxes. He’s got no love lost for her, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy she’s dead. Or, specifically, to have a statement apparently predicting it through the medium of some prophetic dream. Ridiculous. He wants to feel detached, unaffected, but he can’t help the sickly sense of dread that creeps up his spine and lingers in his throat.

It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city.

Jon doesn’t know Antonio Blake and has no reason to believe him. But he’s known something’s wrong for a long time now.

He’s never admitted it aloud, never within his assistant’s hearing range, but he can feel it, as foolish as that sounds. This miasma of wrong, of being watched, of becoming...something else, that happens every time he records a statement. Despite the academic detachment he aspires to, he does attempt to empathize with each statement-giver and get into their mindset. But what he’s doing here...it’s different. He can visualize it so perfectly, the terror in their words sticking in his throat and setting his own heart pounding, as if he were the one experiencing it and not just regurgitating it to an ancient recorder. He’s always had an ‘overactive imagination,’ as his grandmother would say, but this is relentless in its manifestation. The fear is real, not imagined. Each statement draws him further and further away from the safety he used to cling to, where the only real cases were few and far between and the most sinister things lurking out there in the world were books and the monsters within them.

And as much as he wants to linger on the false accounts and take comfort in tearing them apart, his hands automatically seek the real ones, the right ones. It’s frightening, the ease with which he finds them nowadays. Perhaps he’s a better archivist than he thinks.

She died and you’ll be next, something whispers to him. He’s being dramatic, as he’s wont to do, but it feels true. Every statement that doesn’t record correctly, every follow-up he has to qualify with an ‘I would dismiss this, but-’ is starting to add up. His nights have become restless. He often lies awake regretting that he ever took this job, that he left the relative safety of research for a position he’s not sure how to fill, his only reassurance Elias’s occasional emails that he’s ‘moving in the right direction,’ whatever that means.

Jon assumed he’d be more removed from the dangerous aspects of the job that research entailed- following up, going to locations, field work. And it’s true, he has assistants to do that for him now. Dependable, for the most part. And while he should feel safe in his tiny office with nothing but dust and paper and cobwebs (good lord, the cobwebs) he feels more unsettled and exposed than ever. He once joked he’d die of old age before getting the archives in order. But now a stroke sounds much more pleasant than whatever happened to Gertrude. If it’s true.

Perhaps it’s a joke, he thinks. Planted by one of the others, designed specifically to unsettle him. Well, it worked.

It wouldn’t be surprising. He’s...not had the best start. The promotion was a surprise, but not wholly unexpected; he knew he’d been on Elias’s radar, though he wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. He’s young and unfortunately, it shows. The way he stutters through department meetings, talking about digitization while the others, all of whom have at least a decade on him, shoot pitying looks. He stays later and later, the desire to show some sort of progress even as he discovers more mess by the day. The permanent scowl that now graces his features becomes his armor as he walks the halls and feels himself becoming the uptight, unlikable curmudgeon everyone believes him to be. The one time I measure up to expectations, he can’t help thinking.

A joke. There’s a comfort in that. At least it’s familiar.

But it didn’t record to the laptop, his traitorous mind supplies. It's a bit sad he would prefer it to be a mundane attempt at bullying rather than a real expression of the supernatural, but he supposes it’s par for the course. There were many nights as a child he wished for the same thing, for that boy to go back to taking his lunch money and the occasional beating or two instead of…still, he dismisses it from his mind. You don’t know there’s a correlation. Follow up. Disprove it.

He’s interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door and the vague outline of Martin through the frosted glass. “Come in,” he calls, attempting to inject some irritation in his voice to cover up the shakiness. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, I finished my write up for the Herbert case, was wondering if you had anything else for me?”

His hand hovers over the statement on his desk. He opens his mouth but then closes it, thinking better.

“Can you send Tim in, actually?”

______

“Sorry boss, I couldn’t find anything on this Antonio Blake fellow- well, at least with the details he provided, which were next to none. Proper spooky, though.”

Of his assistants, he trusts Tim the most with this sort of thing.

On a surface level, it wouldn’t make sense to some. Tim can be loud and gregarious: the typical, charming extrovert. But he’s not unkind and he’s a hell of a researcher, especially when something grabs his interest. He digs into statements and doesn’t let go- not unlike Sasha, though he’s a bit better at empathizing and handling things...sensitively. Easily attuned to Jon’s moods, Tim’s always been willing to lend an ear whenever he gets too in his head about cases, helping him talk things through or on several memorable occasions, go down the rabbit hole with him. He’d taken the statement from his hands with an easy smile, though his face grew serious with the nervous look Jon shot him.

And if Tim couldn’t find anything, well. Maybe it was a prank after all.

He sort of wanted it to be true, frightening as the implications were. Because then it would mean this terrible, heavy feeling on his shoulders was real, and not just the byproduct of his own mediocrity. He doesn’t want to be scared, he doesn’t want to be in danger, but at least it would provide a real reason for panic, and not just his own inability to measure up. He doesn’t want to prove them all right, collapsing under the stress of a job poorly done and so easily crumbling at a stupid, made-up statement, targeted as it may be.

“A joke, then.” Jon says, rubbing a hand at his temples, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. Tim makes a commiserating noise.

“You know how people are, the institute isn’t exactly popular. You remember last Halloween, when-”

“Yes, I don’t need a reminder.” Jon sighs. He’d rather not relive that day, stressful as it was. “But that wasn’t quite what I was thinking.”

Tim stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Jon continues, attempting to make his hands busy as he pointlessly shuffles papers.

“It’s rather pointed, isn’t it? I doubt someone off the street would create such a detailed account of the death of an...archivist as opposed to the usual ghostly drivel.”

A look of pity flickers in Tim’s eyes and Jon has to turn away. “I don’t really think anyone here would-”

“Really? You don’t?” Jon lets out a mirthless laugh, rubbing a hand across his face as he stares down at his desk. “I’m not blind. Or deaf.” The derisive snorts if he goes off on ‘needless tangents,’ how Rosie pretends to be busy whenever he approaches Elias’s office, the way his name badge still reads ‘researcher’ after months of asking for a new one. He’s basically become a pariah.

“Jon, did someone say something to you?” The words are carefully chosen and he’s leaning forward now, making as if to stand up and god forbid, do something comforting. It’s not that Jon doesn’t want the comfort; he craves it more than anything. But he’s gone without for so long he doesn’t trust himself not to break at the gentlest of touches. Being on the receiving end of Tim’s protective streak is nothing new, but he shouldn’t need his assistant looking out for him like he’s some sort of helpless infant.

He snorts derisively instead, covering up the insecurity and hurt with a sardonic, self-effacing smile. The kind he knows Tim hates. “They don’t need to. I’ve walked in on conversations, I’ve seen the way people go quiet, the looks they give me-”

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low, like he’s dealing with a frightened animal. Jon wonders how he looks, if Tim’s going this soft. “Don’t listen to them, alright? You inherited a mess, we all did- but we’re doing our best, yeah? Study and record, like Elias said.” Jon doesn’t dodge the hand that finally lands on shoulder, and he’ll deny to anyone that he leaned into it.

“Study and record.” He repeats listlessly, slumping back down into his seat. He’s let himself get too worked up, acting like a child instead of a boss. He’s not sure when he started wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Tim’s always been good at reading him. Though he’d rather people think him an arrogant ass than the seething mess of insecurity he truly is.

“Atta boy.” The pat to his shoulder is purposefully light, devoid of Tim’s usually friendly force that sends him stumbling forward. “Now get out of here at a normal time, alright? We can grab lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us, if you like.”

Jon makes a noncommittal grunt, though the thought is nice. He entertains the idea for just a moment, remembering their occasional outings back in research. Tomorrow he’ll make his excuses. He hasn’t been much of a friend as of late, and he’s not sure he deserves the kindness of company.

“And if there’s anyone that needs a stern talking to from me, I-” Tim wags a finger and Jon rolls his eyes, ignoring the pang of warmth the words send through his chest.

“Don’t, please. It’s fine.” It isn’t. “But...thank you, Tim.”

“Course.” A wink and a sloppy salute to lighten the mood, and Jon feels the tension in his posture ease minutely as Tim shuts the door behind him.

He lets out a breath and reaches for the tape recorder. He’s wasted too much time already.

Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least, you should look into appointing a successor.

Good luck.

He fights a shiver as the man’s voice leaves him and the last vestiges of that twilight world fade back to his dimly-lit office. In his follow up, he tries to play it off as a joke. A bit of hazing for the new boss. And yet the uneasiness still creeps into his voice, and he ends another tape on a stilted, half-believed note.

If this is genuine…

Jon prays that it isn’t.

And like most of his prayers, it goes unheard and unanswered.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32165071

reblogs > likes

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #jonathan sims #tim stoker #season one jon feels #with added tim #in which rye has feelings about jon 'dismissing' statements and thinking it could be a joke and TRUSTING TIM #what else is new #reblogs appreciated <3 #a light bit of #jontim

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massivedrickhead · 3 years ago

Text

Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 2

July 27th: Bed sharing/one bed

Read on AO3

Fun fact - everything I’ve written/will write for Bechloe week this year are all part of the same universe, but they won’t be posted in chronological order. So at the end of the week I’ll probably put something up with a list of the prompts in chronological order :)

Beca was pretty sure that sharing a bed with Chloe Beale was simultaneously the worst and best thing that had ever happened to her.

It was almost unbearable to be that close to her without being able to touch her in the way she really wanted to.

Strike that.

It was unbearable.

But Beca couldn’t sleep any other way.

On those occasions when Chloe would sleep elsewhere, Beca would find herself unable to drop off.

She’d be up most of the night tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable, unable to shut her mind off.

It was as if Chloe’s mere presence could calm Beca in a way that nothing else could.

And then they would have these moments of complete vulnerability late at night.

Chloe would reach out with a featherlight touch and run a hand through Beca’s hair. So gentle that sometimes Beca thought she was imagining it.

“Bec?”

“Hmm?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“M’kay.”

Beca would roll over, still practically asleep, and lift her arm, allowing Chloe to either scoot back into her - making Beca the big spoon - or for her to rest her head on her chest.

Beca was usually already asleep by the time Chloe had gotten into a comfortable position, but she always seemed to register the soft “thanks,” that Chloe would whisper.

On those nights when it was Beca’s turn to be comforted, Chloe seemed to always know without Beca having to ask.

Logically, Beca knew it was probably down to the fact that Beca tossed and turned more, or played on her phone for longer, that tipped Chloe off, but she liked to think that Chloe just… knew.

“What do you need?” Chloe would ask, her voice quiet and thick with sleep.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Can you do the hair thing?”

“Mhm.”

Chloe would then lie on her side and gently run her hands through Beca’s hair, her nails lightly scratching her scalp.

Her other hand would rest on Beca’s side or stomach - depending on if she was on her back or side - and her thumb would sweep gently back and forth.

In the daylight, neither would mention these moments. They’d usually wake up back on their respective sides, and if they didn’t whoever woke up first would pull away and climb out of bed - usually waking the other in the process.

And while these moments were nothing short of tortuous for Beca, they were still the favourite part of her day.

Because at two or three in the morning, nothing else matters. There are no distractions. No texts or emails to answer. No potential to be interrupted. Nowhere they needed to be.

They could just exist in the quiet together. Their bed was an island in the room. They could ask questions that, in the cold light of day, could be forgotten or ignored. They could share secrets or confess insecurities that neither would at any other time of day.

“Bec, do you believe in soulmates?”

“I don’t know. I think so. Do you?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“If I hadn’t kissed Jesse, do you think things would be different?”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. Just different. I dated him throughout all of college, maybe I missed experiencing some things?”

“Do you regret dating him so long?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Chlo’?”

“‘Yeah?”

“What if I don’t make it as a producer? What if I’m not good enough?”

“You’re the most talented person I know. You’ll make it.”

Over the years of being best friends with Chloe, she’d always had a crush on her. It had been a harmless thing really, she assumed everyone had a crush on Chloe.

Especially after a drunken confession to Aubrey had caused the blonde to let out a snort of laughter and say “girl, same.”

But this last year or so that they’d spent sharing a bed - sharing more of themselves with each other than they’d ever done before - Beca had fallen hard and fast and completely in love with Chloe.

Which, let’s be honest, wasn’t an ideal situation. Especially considering that, about three weeks ago, Chloe had started dating Chicago.

“He rescued us from the Med, Beca. I think I owe him a date.”

“Technically Amy and I rescued you. He turned up after the hard bit was done.”

Wearing a new dress and her highest heels, Chloe had thrown Beca a wink and said “don’t wait up!” as she left their apartment to meet him for the third time this week.

Once the door closed, Beca flopped back dramatically on the bed and let out a groan.

“You know you could tell her!” Amy called from her bedroom. “Actually, ignore that, that’s a bad idea. If she turned you down it would make our living situation way more awkward.”

“When not if,” Beca said, miserably. “Have you seen the abs on Shit-ago?”

(Yes, her nickname for Chicago was unnecessarily mean and childish, but give her a break.)

“If Chloe hadn’t accepted the date I would have climbed him like a tree,” Amy said.

“You could save me a lot of pain if you’d use those millions of dollars you have to move out so I could at least have my own room,” Beca said.

Amy left her room and was also looking dressed up for a night out.

“I’m doing you a favour captain,” Amy said. “If I move out you’ll have no excuse to share a bed anymore, and I know you can’t sleep without her. Besides, when she eventually moves in with Chicago, you won’t be able to afford the rent on your own.”

“Please don’t use his real name, it humanises him,” Beca said. “And what makes you think she’d move in with him? Has she said anything?”

“Not specifically, no. But things are obviously going well between them. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that Chloe has found ‘the one’,” Amy said. “So, you know, if you’re going to make a confession of love, time’s ticking.” She checked her phone. “I gotta go. If you are going to comfort eat please leave my Ben & Jerry’s out of it.”

“I make no promises,” Beca said.

“Hmm, due to your pathetic state, I’ll let you off. See you tomorrow!”

Beca spent the remainder of her night feeling sorry for herself, and making some truly self-indulgent mixes.

There were so many songs about unrequited love that Beca was never short of material, and when she finished she saved them in a hidden password-protected so no-one else could even accidentally listen to them.

No, these mixes weren’t going to help her career but they did make her feel at least a little bit better.

The crying and eating Amy’s ice-cream had helped too of course.

Beca was in bed by the time Chloe got back that night, and even thought she wasn’t asleep she pretended she was.

Chloe could always tell when Beca had been crying, and she definitely did not want to talk about the reason why.

So she closed her eyes when she heard the keys in the door, and kept them closed as the lights came on which was followed by the sound of high-heeled shoes walking across the apartment.

She felt the bed dip behind her, and heard the click of Chloe’s lamp turn on.

The bed jostled again, and the main light went off.

She heard running water from the bathroom as Chloe washed off her makeup and brushed her teeth, and then the sound of drawers opening as she searched for pyjamas.

She heard Chloe undressing, and tried not to picture it. She hoped Chloe didn’t need help with unzipping her dress, because she didn’t know if she could handle that right now.

Eventually the bed dipped again and the light went out.

She felt Chloe gently tug at the blankets so she could cover herself.

Then there was nothing but a calm silence.

Beca could tell by the way that Chloe was breathing that she wasn’t asleep yet and before she could stop herself, she was rolling over to face her.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi,” Chloe replied. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Beca just smiled as she looked at Chloe’s face in the moonlight. She was so beautiful.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Beca said. “How was your night?”

They were both whispering, even though they were the only two people in the apartment, and it was only a little after midnight.

“Fine,” Chloe said. “What did you get up to?”

“Made some mixes,” Beca said. “Before you ask, no. They’re not ready yet.”

Chloe grinned. “Not even for me?”

“Especially not for you.”

“Spoil sport,” Chloe said.

They fell into an easy silence while they just continued to look at each other, and Beca felt that tug in her heart again.

She wanted more than anything to just reach out and touch her. To tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. To sweep her thumb across her jaw.

To kiss her.

God, she wanted to kiss her.

She swallowed, and turned so she was lying on her back.

Amy was right. Time was running out if she was going to say something. And Beca knew she had to say something.

She just didn’t think she could look at Chloe while she said it.

“Is everything okay?” Chloe asked, in her gentlest voice that was always Beca’s undoing.

She just had to do it. She had to rip the bandaid off and deal with whatever came after.

If Chloe turned her down… well… their friendship could survive that.

Right?

“Are you gonna move in with Chicago?”

If she’d been looking at Chloe she’d have seen her frown.

“What? No, what made you ask that? We’ve only been dating for a couple of weeks,” Chloe sounded genuinely confused, and it spurred Beca on. “We’ve been on, like, six dates.”

“But is that something you could see yourself doing? With him, I mean.”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t really know him, I hadn’t thought about it. Why?”

Beca swallowed again.

It was now or never.

“Chloe, I… fuck, this is… look, this is hard, okay. I’m not good at this.”

“Bec, you’re kinda freaking me out,” Chloe said. She sat up and switched on the lamp on her nightstand.

Beca felt instantly exposed and vulnerable - way too vulnerable - and she was up and off the bed in seconds.

“Beca-”

“Just… just give me a second,” Beca said, her heart beating uncomfortably.

She could feel tears building in her eyes and, at that exact moment, they heard the sound of keys in the door before Amy walked in.

“Funny story,” she said, shutting the door and walking further into the room. “Turns out it’s next week that I’m staying-”

She stopped abruptly, realising she had stepped into some kind of emotional minefield.

“Uh oh,” she said. “Beca when I said you should tell her I didn’t mean toni-”

“Nope!” Beca said, loudly cutting her off before walking into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

Okay, so this wasn’t exactly going to plan.

She had locked herself in the bathroom and was maybe on the verge of a panic attack.

Not an ideal situation.

“Beca,” Chloe said, knocking on the door. “Come on, you can’t stay in there forever.”

I can try, Beca thought.

When Beca didn't respond, or give any indication that she would come out of the bathroom anytime soon, Chloe turned to Amy with a huff of frustration.

“What just happened?”

“So… she didn’t tell you anything?”

“No! I think she was about to tell me something and then…” Chloe trailed off with a shrug. “I don’t know. Something freaked her out and then you showed up.”

“Look this is really not something I should - or want to - be involved in,” Amy said. “So I’m just gonna…” She jerked a thumb towards her bedroom. Amy made a hasty retreat and Chloe returned to the bathroom door.

“Beca, please,” Chloe said. “Look, even if you don’t wanna talk to me, can you just unlock the door so I can go pee. I’ve had like a full bottle of wine tonight and you know how small my bladder is.”

She heard the lock slide and Beca opened the door.

Chloe could see tears in her eyes despite the fact that Beca was doing everything in her power to avoid looking at her.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, as Beca moved aside to let her in.

It hadn’t been a lie, Chloe really did need to pee, so after she closed the door behind her, Beca sat down on the bed and let her head drop into her hands.

It’s probably for the best, she thought. It would ruin everything.

The light from the lamp had had the same sobering effect of daylight.

It reminded her of all the reasons she hadn’t told Chloe how she felt, and why she shouldn’t tell her now.

Any fantasies she could conjure up during the night were always chased away by the day.

While Chloe was stroking her hair in the moonlight, it was easy to imagine that they could be together, but those hopes were always replaced with facts the next day. And the same thing was happening now.

Beca felt something hard lodge itself in her chest as she came to a realisation.

She couldn’t keep doing this.

She’d have to start looking for a new place.

When she heard the toilet flush and the sound of running water she quickly wiped her eyes.

She didn’t look at Chloe when she came out, and kept her eyes fixed on her clasped hands in front of her.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“No,” Beca said. “It’s… it’s nothing. It was dumb. Can we just go to sleep?”

“Sure,” Chloe said with a sigh.

Beca didn’t get into bed until the light was off and then she lay with her back to Chloe.

“Night Bec.”

Beca swallowed again, hoping her voice was steady. “Night.”

Beca’s phone then lit up on her bedside table.

Amy: omg tell her or I will!!!

Beca read it, smiled briefly, and then locked her phone.

She didn’t say anything else, but after a few minutes of silence, Chloe rolled over and wrapped her arm around Beca’s middle. Her other hand started stroking through her hair.

“You get a headache when you cry,” she said softly, answering the question Beca hadn’t asked.

Something broke inside Beca, and she knew she couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“I’m in love with you Chloe.”

Chloe’s hand stilled and Beca’s heart seemed to stop beating.

The silence stretched on, and Beca had to fight every urge to run.

And then Chloe’s arm tightened around Beca’s waist, and she pulled her closer.

“What took you so long?”

Beca laughed and turned around to face her. Their faces were inches apart now, and Beca could see the tears building in Chloe’s eyes.

“I was scared,” she said, her voice breaking. “I was so fucking scared. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You could never lose me,” Chloe replied. “You will never lose me. I promise.”

Her eyes traveled over Beca’s face, flicking between her eyes, looking for doubt or regret. She didn’t see either. She saw love and adoration. She saw vulnerability, hope, and a tiny fraction of fear.

“I’m in love with you too, Bec.”

And then the fear was gone from her eyes and her face broke into a grin.

“Yeah?” Beca asked, letting out a tearful laugh.

“Yeah,” Chloe replied.

“Can I kiss you?”

Chloe nodded, and their lips met a second later.

Tomorrow, in the cold light of day, Chloe would tell Chicago she didn’t think they should see each other anymore. Tomorrow, she would ask Beca on a date and if it went well - which she knew it would - she would ask her to be her girlfriend.

Tomorrow, when the sun was up, she would repeat these things they’d said to each other in the moonlight.

She’d tell Beca she loved her.

She’d tell Beca she’d always loved her.

And Beca would say it back. A thousand times. In a thousand different ways.

#bechloe week #bechloe week 2021 #bechloe #bechloe prompt #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic #beca #Chloe #beca x chloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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osakaso5 · 4 years ago

Photo

La Danse Macabre Rabbit TV Part 4: The Fourth Intermission

Part 3

Momo: Ah, Haruka! Great job out there!

Haruka Isumi: Ah... ...Y-you too...

Momo: You haven't had any trouble during filming, have you?

Haruka Isumi: ...Trouble...

Haruka Isumi: Not me personally, but I'm not sure about him...

Momo: Who?

Haruka Isumi: ...Rokuya-san.

Nagi Rokuya: Yamato! Hug me!

Yamato Yamato: Give me a break..! We JUST hugged!

Nagi Rokuya: I want another!

Yamato Nikaido: I'm not gonna keep embarrassing myself for you..!

Momo: Ahaha! Oh, you meant Nagi. He's been like that 24/7 lately!

Haruka Isumi: He always acts like that? That's kinda different from how I imagined him...

Momo: The cool prettyboy and the guy who can't contain his love for his teammates are both Nagi, y'know!

Momo: What about your group? Do you guys have the kind of relationship where you can show each other even the more embarrassing parts of yourselves?

Haruka Isumi: ...I... I think we do.

Momo: Okay! That's good to hear!

Yamato Nikaido: Momo-san! Help me out, here. You and him are both in the Church of Nerve, so maybe you could get him to stop...

Momo: Nyahaha! But Nagi acts completely different during the shoots.

Momo: We don't get to film with the rest of you nearly as much, so it makes sense that he'd get a little lonely.

Nagi Rokuya: OH, worry not, Mister Momo. I have Yamato firmly in my arms.

Yamato Nikaido: And I'm telling you to let go of me, already..!

Momo: Even Haruka's shocked to see the guy who said lines like, "'Tis a man-made Heaven, but it needs a Hell below to prosper" acting this way!

Haruka Isumi: ...I was just a little surprised...

Nagi Rokuya: Hehe. Thank you, Isumi-shi.

Haruka Isumi: T-that wasn't really a compliment...

Nagi Rokuya: You have plenty of gap moe, yourself.

Haruka Isumi: Moe..?

Yamato Nikaido: Nagi. Don't go teaching the kid any weird anime lingo, now.

Nagi Rokuya: ...Right, my mistake. What I should have said is that you are much like Arme.

Haruka Isumi: Huh?

Nagi Rokuya: I happened to overhear you talking to your grandmother on the phone the other day...

Nagi Rokuya: You had the gentlest voice when you told her that you would return home soon.

Yamato Nikaido: Wow, really!? Come to think of it, you do live with your grandma.

Momo: Oh my gosh~! That's the kind of stuff that really gets me emotional..!

Haruka Isumi: Wha... I thought nobody would be around to hear that..!

Yamato Nikaido: Ah, sorry about him, Isumi-kun. Nagi's got a knack for hiding his presence...

Haruka Isumi: A "knack" for it..?

Momo: ...Hold up. Nagi, teach me how to hide my presence!

Yamato & Haruka: Huh?

Nagi Rokuya: Oh, there are moments when you wish not to be seen?

Momo: ...I wanna film Yuki's daily life without him noticing.

Nagi Rokuya: Hm, I see...

Haruka Isumi: They're actually having a serious discussion over spying on people...

Yamato Nikaido: You're better off ignoring them. Trust me.

Momo: Besides, I think it'll help me play Eternea better!

Nagi Rokuya: ...Very well. I shall teach you a method of subterfuge anyone can use.

Momo: Please, Master Nagi!

Nagi Rokuya: The most important step is adaptive movements.

Yamato, Momo, & Haruka: Adaptive movements...

Nagi Rokuya: You must be aware of the other person's movements, without so much as looking at them. Match your walking speed with theirs, for example.

Momo: Uh-huh...

All: .......

Nagi Rokuya: I feel thirsty...

Yamato, Momo, & Haruka: .......

Nagi Rokuya: I do believe I left my phone over here...

Yamato, Momo, & Haruka: .......

All: .......

Nagi Rokuya: My suspicions have been confirmed. Not one of you could ever hope to become a spy.

Momo: Ah..! Crap, we were all following Nagi around..!

Haruka Isumi: I-I didn't even mean to do it...

Yamato Nikaido: ...Wait, who said anything about becoming a spy!?

Nagi Rokuya: Good grief. You cannot be trusted with looking after Misericorde if this is the best you can do.

Momo: N-now he's switching around the characters in the drama, too..!?

Nagi Rokuya: ...The role of Misericorde is very important. Since I have been chosen to play him, I shall fulfill my duty, even if it means betraying my friends.

Nagi Rokuya: However... I wanted to do at least one battle scene!

Momo: Ah, you and me both! As Nerve, we're basically the only noncombatants in the story.

Yamato Nikaido: I guess you are. You guys are so strong spiritually that I kinda forgot...

Momo: Yeah. We can be super imposing. That's why I really gotta hand it to Arme, or rather, his actor Haruka!

Haruka Isumi: ...Me?

Momo: You're probably not used to working with us yet, but you still manage to get past all the scenes that are really intense and tiring on you mentally just fine.

Momo: Lots of people get swept up in people's performances, but you never let that happen to you.

Momo: Your role's a really tough one, but let's both do our best!

Haruka Isumi: Y-yeah..!

Momo: By the way, Yamato, Yuki thinks your role fits you perfectly. Isn't that great!?

Yamato Nikaido: Why would it be great!?

Momo: Also, he said being ordered around by you gave him chills, Nagi!

Nagi Rokuya: Oh dear. It appears I have made yet another soul my captive.

Haruka Isumi: U-um... Everyone.

Yamato Nikaido: Hm? What is it?

Haruka Isumi: ...I've been learning a lot from working with you. Thank you very much.

Haruka Isumi: I'll continue to do my best.

Yamato Nikaido: Yeah! Right back at you.

Nagi Rokuya: Heh. We are all counting on you.

Momo: Ahaha! You're so cute, Haruka. No need to be so formal!

Momo: I know, we should all go do karaoke after this! I mastered PoiGang the other day!

Haruka Isumi: Huh!? Whose parts did you sing?

Momo: Toma's! I can even do the rapping parts!

Haruka Isumi: W-wow..!

Momo: Yamato, you sing Minami's parts. Nagi, you're on Torao duty!

Nagi Rokuya: OH! I have been entrusted with yet another important role. Let us give our all, Yamato!

Yamato Nikaido: A-are we really gonna do karaoke together..? I don't know if I have the nerves to sing in front of you guys...

Momo: Got it... Got it... Got it...

Yamato & Nagi: Say wassup!

Haruka Isumi: Ahaha! That was good!

Nagi Rokuya: Perhaps I should even make myself appear more like Mido-shi. Shall I take off my shirt?

Yamato Nikaido: And how do you suggest I make myself look like Natsume-chan..?

Haruka Isumi: Uh... First, you need to make your eyes droopy...

Momo: I've got tape, if you need any!

Yamato Nikaido: I'm not gonna have to do some kind of weird party tricks for you, am I!?

Haruka Isumi: Ah... Or you could tilt your head up a little and make a face like you can see right through us.

Yamato Nikaido: Uh, sure...

Haruka Isumi: Rokuya...-san, you need to stand more proudly...

Nagi Rokuya: Like this?

Momo: Ahaha! That looks really good! Let me style my hair a bit differently, too!

Haruka Isumi: U-um, would any of you mind if I took a picture of this?

Momo: Of course not! It'll make for a nice behind-the-scenes shot, won't it? C'mon, scoot over!

Haruka Isumi: Ahh...

Yamato Nikaido: I guess I'll just have to grin and bear it!

Nagi Rokuya: This will be a picture for the ages!

All: Peace!

End of Part 4.

#idolish7 #la danse macabre #translation #rabbit tv

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kumeko · 4 years ago

Photo

A/N: For the Butterfly Estate Zine! Spoilers for later events in the manga, for anime-onlys.

…

Shinobu pressed her fingers against the coin, feeling the imprint of the hard edges on her skin. Even in the warm, spring sunlight, the metal felt cold. “Kanae gave this to you, right?” she asked, idly turning it over on her palm.

Standing next to her, Kanao nodded her head slowly. “To help me decide,” she explained, a fond smile on her face. There was a hint of sorrow in her expression, something Shinobu saw in the mirror whenever she thought of her sister. It was less than it was yesterday, less than it was a year ago, and while it would be ever present, the pain had eased.

Shinobu glanced at her younger sister. A chill breeze blew through, ruffling her hair and the butterfly clasp keeping her locks together. Would she wear a second one, when Shinobu died? A memento from both sisters? Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Shinobu closed her hand around the coin. “Despite how she acted, she always knew what to do.”

Kanao clasped her hands in front of her, nodding. “She did.” Peeking up, she added shyly, “And so do you.”

“Do I?” Shinobu questioned, looking up at the Wisteria trees that bordered her estate. Their sickly-sweet scent lingered in the air, the purple blooms fluttering in the wind, and even after all this time, Shinobu couldn’t get used to their scent. She felt small and impermanent in comparison to the eternally blooming giants. The problem she faced was bigger than her, almost as old as the trees themselves.

A part of her feared it would continue long after she was gone.

A soft touch brought her out of her thoughts and she looked down to find Kanao’s hand wrapped around hers. In front of her, her sister uttered simply, “Yes.”

For once, Kanao looked self-assured, no doubt colouring her voice. Shinobu swallowed. It was wrong of her to lean on Kanao so much, to need this confidence. Despite herself, she raised her other hand, sandwiching Kanao’s between hers. “I guess you’re right,” she finally said, keeping her voice from cracking.

This settled it. Any reservations she had about her idea, Shinobu let go. Her time was limited. It had always been the case, ever since she’d picked up her sister’s sword. No, even before that, when her parents had died, when she’d taken the Master’s hand, her body trembling from fear. It was just more so now; she knew her expiration date better than most.

Only, this wasn’t just revenge. It couldn’t be. Not when Kanao was standing in front of her, love and belief shining through her eyes.

No, this was about protecting. About keeping her family, however small it was now, safe.

“Thanks.” Shinobu pulled her hand free. The coin was still on her hand, heavy as ever.

“Do you need to make a decision?” Kanao asked, her eyes flickering from the coin to Shinobu.

“I guess. Heads, I’ll do it.” Shinobu flipped the coin, watching the bronze gleam in the sunlight. She already knew what side it’d land.

Tomorrow, she’d talk to the Master about the Wisteria poison.

-x-

“AHHHH!” Tanjirou roared, his sword high in the air as he charged forward. Shinobu could almost see the rush of an incoming wave, the clash against the rocks when he struck. If Giyuu’s technique had the tranquility of a pond, Tanjirou’s was the aggressive stream coursing ever forward.

And she was the water spider, gliding above it all. She jumped, flipping through the air and landing behind him. Unable to change his course or stop his momentum, Tanjirou crashed into one of the trees surrounding the training grounds. He rolled backwards, falling flat on his back.

“Good effort,” she praised, tucking a lock behind her ear as she bent over him.

“T-thanks,” he wheezed. He lay there and tried to catch his breath.

“You’re getting better.” Shinobu lifted her right arm and inspected her uniform. Poking her finger through the hole he made, she chuckled. All this from a boy who just learned to keep his breathing constant. “You’re a quick learner.”

Tanjirou’s eyes lit up and he sat up quickly. “Really?”

“Really,” she nodded, humming her agreement.

“G-great.” He’d moved too quickly, and his body struggled to keep him upright before giving up entirely. Falling flat on his back, he closed his eyes and sighed happily. “I can try again in a minute.”

There was something utterly refreshing about his earnestness and honesty. It reminded her a little of Rengoku. Maybe she should have them meet properly after this. Sitting next to him on the cool, wet grass, she leaned back and enjoyed the cool breeze. “It’s fine, take your time.”

“Thanks.” His breathing had yet to even out.

Glancing over to her right, she observed their audience on the veranda. Hidden in the shade, Nezuko was watching them curiously, her pink eyes bright despite the gloom. Kiyo was sitting behind her, braiding her hair, while Sumi and Naho neatly folded their laundry. At first, they’d run away at the sight of her, but now, they looked almost too relaxed next to her.

Nezuko. A demon that didn’t hunger. Shinobu’s eyes flicked back to the panting Tanjirou. “You’re going to kill Muzan for her,” she asked without thinking.

Tanjirou’s eyes flew open and he stared at her in surprise. “How…”

She chuckled. “It’s not like you hide it.” Or, even if he tried, could hide it well. Tanjirou was far too frank for deception.

“R-right.” Tanjirou gave a sheepish smile, his cheeks colouring a light red. No doubt he was remembering past declarations of Muzan’s death. He sat up slowly and waved to Nezuko. “It’s the only way to save her.”

Shinobu imagined her expression was the same whenever she looked at Kanae—tender, soft, a little sad. Picking a strand of grass, she methodically tore it to pieces. “You could die.”

“I won’t,” he replied immediately, filled with the confidence of youth. For a moment, she believed him. There was something in Tanjirou that she hadn’t seen in ages, a hopeful belief in the future mixed with a tragic understanding of the present.

Perhaps Muzan could be defeated in her lifetime.

Still, wishes didn’t make things so, and Shinobu tossed the grass pieces at him. “You could die,” she repeated firmly.

Tanjirou looked at her now. Recognizing the seriousness of the question, he frowned, crossing his arms as he considered it. “I…” He lowered his eyes, taking a deep breath before offering a sad smile. “That doesn’t matter. Nezuko’s family; I have to try, no matter what.” Once more, he looked at his sister. “She’d do the same for me.”

“That, I can understand.” Even now, she could smell the Wisteria, hear the click of her nail flipping the coin. Kanae’s blood had been so warm, her body so cold. There were things you did for family, no matter the cost, and she found herself looking for Kanao even though she wouldn’t be here. “There are some things more important than your life.”

“Yeah.” Tanjirou nodded.

Shinobu turned to him, sizing him up. He’d survived grief, managed to stand even when sorrow threatened to swallow him whole. Kanao would need someone like that when she died. Selfishly, she asked, “Would you be friends with Kanao?”

His eager nod eased the load on her shoulders ever so slightly.

-x-

Sitting on the porch, Shinobu gently swirled the sake in her cup. It was a rare night she got to relax, to just sit here and admire the night sky. The moon hung low in the heavens, full and heavy, and the gentlest of breezes rustled through the grass.

Behind her, quiet footsteps approached her and she smiled. “I thought you didn’t like drinking,” she teased, glancing over her shoulder as Giyuu stepped out into the moonlight.

“I don’t,” he stated, slowly sitting down next to her. As usual, his blank expression and dry tone gave away nothing.

“Could have fooled me,” she muttered, taking a sip. She wasn’t quite sure when this had started, this almost-habit of late-night drinking. At some point, he’d started joining her when she relaxed and watched the moon. At some point, she’d stopped minding it.

“I don’t think anyone could fool you,” he answered bluntly, his eyes on the moon.

She chuckled. For a man who didn’t know how to joke, he was constantly unintentionally funny. “No, I suppose not.” Her wits were the only thing that made up for her stature. Leaning forward, she smiled teasingly. “So did you miss my company or the view while you were away?”

Giyuu’s brow furrowed, the only indication that he was frowning. He fell silent, more so than usual, and she hadn’t expected him to consider her question so seriously.

Perhaps she should let him off easy this time. It had been a while since they’d last sat together like this and despite her attitude, she did enjoy his company. Somehow. It wouldn’t do to scare him away. “You don’t—”

“Both,” Giyuu finally admitted.

“—have to…” Shinobu trailed off, blinking as she processed his answer. Staring at him, she tried not to gape. “Both?”

He merely nodded. Nothing about his straight back, the profile of his blank face, or even his hands, neatly tucked into the opposite arm’s sleeves, gave away his emotions.

Both. Shinobu bit her lip, stopping herself from asking what exactly he meant by that. Did he like this quiet hour together too? Did he just miss the calm of it all? And would it be worth the frustrating hours of trying to pull the words from his lips?

No, definitely not. Still, in a rare moment of honesty, she smiled into her cup. “Me too.”

He glanced at her when she said that but still said nothing.

She swirled her sake once more. The moon’s reflection rippled in the clear liquid. Butterflies danced in the nearby wisteria trees and even when she died, that scent would follow her to her grave. Taking advantage of the atmosphere, she asked, “Why did you spare Tanjirou and Nezuko?”

From the corner of her eyes, she watched as he bit his lip, his frown growing deeper as he grappled with an answer. After a long silence punctuated only by the soft chirp of the cicadas, he finally answered, “She protected him.”

“That was unusual for a demon,” she agreed. His expression was dark and she wondered if that reminded him of some incident in his past, some haunting memory he hadn’t finished wrestling with. For all her talk about becoming friends with demons, she would have killed Nezuko on the spot. Almost had, in fact, if not for the Master’s intervention.

And now this unusual demon and her brother could be the very key to ending centuries worth of conflict. She set down her sake, no longer thirsty. “They’re going to come for her soon.” Shinobu could almost feel it. The new training, the Master’s changed tactics, everything was coming to a head.

Her days were numbered. A year’s worth of poison had to be enough to bring the demon down. Tomorrow, or maybe the day after, she’d have to tell Kanao. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Yeah.” Giyuu nodded, finally looking at her. “We’ll be ready.”

Shinobu raised a brow. “That’s surprisingly hopeful of you.” He didn’t say anything but she had a feeling it was Tanjirou’s influence.

Something started changing after Tanjirou had arrived, and it wasn’t just the demons who’d transformed. She heard the quiet clink of a coin, saw gold flipping against the bright blue sky. The coin would land, the die set, and there was no time to say it but now. Fiddling with her sleeves, Shinobu asked quietly, “Could you take care of Kanao?” Impassive eyes stared at her and she smiled, giving nothing away. “If something happens,” she clarified.

“No,” he answered just as bluntly as he normally did.

“How cruel.” Shinobu sighed.

“She has you,” Giyuu continued, as steady as a river, and for all the deaths they’d experienced, it seemed hers had never crossed his mind.

Shinobu took pride in the compliment. She hoped it wouldn’t hurt him too much when he found out he was wrong. “She does.”

There was a small gap between them, a space that had shrunk in the past years. She wondered if it would have disappeared in the coming months, if their fingers would have overlapped and thighs brushed one another.

A question she’d never know the answer to. She felt sadder at that than she’d thought.

-x-

The demon’s strikes were harder than she’d expected. Shinobu lay on the wooden platform, gasping as she tried to breathe. Her ribs were cracked, a trickle of blood escaping her lips, and she barely had the energy to open her eyes, let alone grab her sword.

No wonder he was an upper moon. He was far too strong, and she couldn’t kill him with her weapon.

She’d hoped and hoped, but it seemed there was no wiggling out of her fate.

Shinobu, Kanae stood by her head, her expression sad. You know what to do.

Shinobu closed her eyes. Somewhere, a coin glinted in the sun, flipping through the air. Somewhere, the wisteria trees perfumed the air with their sticky, sweet scent. If she were honest, she’d made her decision long before that. The second she’d picked up her sister’s abandoned sword, rage swirling in her petite body, she’d known one way or another this was her destiny.

Grabbing her sword, Shinobu took a deep breath. Maybe she should have closed that gap, reached over and grabbed Giyuu’s hand. Or prepared Kanao better, there were so many things she’d wanted to teach her.

Damn it all, she thought she’d prepared herself for this, but there were so many things she wanted to do, to say. Her sister stared down at her and Shinobu hoped she wasn’t disappointed that she was going to die the same way she had.

“Is that all?” Doma sighed, his voice grating her ears.

“No,” she gritted out, forcing herself to stand.

It was too late for regrets.

The coin had landed heavily, the symbol digging into her skin. Heads, she had declared, her heart heavy with resignation. I guess I’ll do it.

Shinobu raised her sword and charged.

#shinobu kochō #tomioka giyuu #kanao tsuyuri #kamado tanjirou #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #fanfic #giyushino #if you squint

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10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat · 4 years ago

Text

Ask Me to Stay

Pairing: Riyo Chuchi x Commander Wolffe

Premise: @lilhawkeye3 proposed Riyo/Wolffe post-Order 66 and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

Word count: Approximately 2.3k

Warnings: Allusions to sex but nothing is described in explicit detail. Light steam, no smut.

AO3

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

Coruscant, 16BBY

At first, the idea of returning to Coruscant filled Riyo with trepidation. Getting caught by the Empire was the least of her worries. What she feared was seeing ghosts everywhere: of her friends, of her colleagues, of the Republic itself, of the man she loved and lost.

Perhaps Fulcrum sensed what Riyo was thinking and feeling, and that was why they assigned her to work in a neighborhood on the planet’s surface far away from the hustle and bustle of the city and far away from the Senate complex. Riyo had been assigned a cover as an administrative assistant in a public records office, where she could relay coded messages between street-level informants and Fulcrum. The work wasn’t fraught with peril or all that exciting, yet she joked to herself that it was more meaningful than being a Senator was.

She eventually found comfort in routine: keep her hair dyed black to hide her natural shade of purple, cover the markings on her cheeks with blue makeup and use yellow face paint to paint dot-and-line patterns around her eyes, visit the markets every day after work, spend her nights reading or watching holovids, and check her personal messages. Sometimes she would engage in friendly chatter with Ahsoka or Bail on a secure channel, some lighthearted conversation to take their minds off things. Rarer than that, she would receive messages from him, letting her know she was still on his mind even though they hadn’t seen each other in person for nearly a year, and she treasured those messages more than she treasured a perfectly brewed cup of caf. If she had a secure means of messaging him back, she would tell him the same. She never imagined that she would be able to love again after Fox, but the universe proved her wrong … right before duty pulled them apart.

One evening after work, she went to the market as usual, picking out what to eat for dinner. Somber gray clouds covered the sky. Riyo checked every crosswalk and every person that crossed her path, always on alert as Fulcrum advised her to be. When she finished her shopping, she turned to walk home but froze in her tracks when she looked across the street.

He stood outside a café, the hood of his coat over his head to obscure most of his face. But there was no hiding that bright white cybernetic eye, especially when it looked at her with such intensity and focus.

At first Riyo thought she was hallucinating; she had barely slept the night before, and perhaps seeing him was a byproduct of that. But as she crossed the street to meet him, and raised a hand to touch him, only to have him take her raised hand in his own –

“Wolffe,” she gasped. “How are you here?”

“I took a transport,” Wolffe replied dryly. She could see his mouth curve into a small smile under his hood.

“No, I mean- I thought you were in the Outer Rim somewhere … is this about your mission?” Not that she wasn’t happy to see him, she couldn’t help but be confused. She glanced around, making sure the other people passing through didn’t notice her talking to him. No one paid them any attention, all intent on going about their own business.

“No, the mission is on pause right now. So I came here.” Wolffe kept his voice low as he talked. He paused, looking over her head for a moment, then he looked back down to her.

“I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Riyo replied. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Questions about how he knew where to find her could wait. All she wanted to do in that moment was throw her arms around him and kiss every inch of his face that she could get her lips on. She could sense that he wanted to do the same. The sooner she got him in her apartment, the better.

Next thing she knew, though, she was being grabbed around the arm and yanked into the narrow space between the café and the shop next door. Wolffe pinned her against the wall, caging her in with his body, and the stubble on his jawline scratched against her forehead. She looked past him to see a dozen Stormtroopers marching in formation down the street.

“And I don’t like that you’re here by yourself. Especially with all these Stormtroopers crawling around.”

“I can handle myself. I can call for extraction if it ever gets too dangerous.” Riyo placed her hands on his chest and pushed him softly, allowing herself to look up and make eye contact with him.

“If you need to make that call it’s too late,” Wolffe protested.

“It wasn’t too late that one time on Corellia,” Riyo reminded him.

“We got lucky on Corellia.”

“Maybe.” Riyo smirked playfully at him.

A beat of silence.

“How is the mission going?” she asked.

Wolffe sighed. “Could be better. We found Bacara, got his chip out, but the trail’s gone cold for the others. Back at base Gregor’s taking care of his recovery and Rex is working with Ahso- I mean Fulcrum – to find new leads to chase. Rex knows I’m here, doubt anyone else does.” He paused. “Eh, that’s all there is to talk about. What about you?”

“You know I can’t talk about my work.”

“Not even to me?”

Rain began to fall, starting as a trickle of small drops and sprinkles but soon turning into a steady shower from the sky. “We should get inside,” Riyo said. Her hair was steadily growing wetter, as were her clothes, and they stuck to her skin.

“Lead the way,” Wolffe answered, taking a step back from her.

She took his hand and led him along, the two moving quickly to an apartment building three blocks from the market. Riyo’s apartment was on the third floor: a small studio with a kitchen and dining area, space for her bed, and a narrow fresher.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” she remarked as she brought Wolffe inside. After she cast off her coat and shoes, she went to set her bag of food down on the dining table. She swept her hand across her face to wipe some raindrops off her face, and some of her yellow face paint came off with it. So much for being waterproof, she thought.

“I’m going to wipe off my makeup really quick, make yourself comfortable. There’s some spare towels in the closet if you want one.”

Wolffe nodded in response before making to remove his boots. Riyo went into the fresher and quickly cleaned the makeup off her face, revealing the crescent-shaped markings on her cheeks. She then went back out to find Wolffe standing by the kitchen counter, wiping his face and neck dry with one of her towels. His face brightened when she walked over to him, like he was seeing her for the first time.

“I near forgot what you really look like,” he remarked as he dropped the towel and reached out to her. Riyo grabbed his hands and let him pull her close. “Lost my picture of you like this somewhere around Felucia. I’ll need another one.”

“I don’t keep pictures of myself anymore, or even any devices with a camera, but I’ll see what I can do.”

His mouth curved into a small smile. He moved his hands out of her grasp up her arms, gliding along with the gentlest touch, across her shoulders, and on up until he cradled her face in them. Riyo’s hands rested on either side of his waist.

“Not a day went by that I didn’t think of you,” Wolffe confessed. “And I half-expected Fox to appear from the beyond to give me an earful for leaving you alone.”

Riyo chuckled. “Did he?”

“No, he must have known I would fix that mistake.” Wolffe stroked his thumb along her cheek, tracing along the path of her marking. He then leaned in, and Riyo closed her eyes and craned her neck up so she could meet his lips with her own.

Kissing him was like taking a drink of cool water after being parched for days, or reexperiencing warmth after only knowing cold loneliness for so long. She didn’t know just how much she had missed him until that moment, and she let her hands roam to become reacquainted with his body. He must have been thinking the same thing as he let her head go so his hands could travel down her sides and to the small of her back.

They eventually broke apart to catch their breaths. Riyo felt heat rising in her cheeks, heat in her skin under his hands, and an aching craving deep within her. All she wanted to do was envelop herself in him, to touch and taste any part of him she could get her hands on.

“I want to take you to bed,” Wolffe said breathily, his pupil dark and blown wide.

“Then take me.”

Hours later, all of her energy was spent. She was sore between her legs, and her limbs felt like jelly, but she felt blissful and at peace. It amazed her, how he still knew exactly where and how to touch her to make her come undone, how in the throes of passion her name sounded like a song on his lips, and how secure and treasured she felt in his arms. For a brief amount of time, nothing outside of her apartment mattered: not the Empire, not her assignment, nothing except her and him. Knowing that he would have to leave again increased her desire to live in the present moment forever.

Riyo lifted her head from Wolffe’s chest to look at the chronometer on the nightstand, seeing that it was a little past midnight. Rain still fell, droplets tapping against the windows and reflecting lights from outside. When she lay her head back down, Wolffe shifted underneath her, moving slightly so his nose was in her hair. She heard him inhale slowly, and when he exhaled she felt his breath tickle at her scalp.

“What’s your natural hair color?” he asked, his voice hinting at his tiredness.

“Purple, like the Alderaanian lavender that Bail keeps in his garden.”

“Hmm. Didn’t even know you dyed it until now. Smells like the stuff Gregor used on Rex one time to make his hair blue as a prank ….” He lifted his hand from her shoulder up to her head, where his fingers combed through her hair. “That purple sounds nice. Hope to see it one day.”

“I’m sure there are pictures of me from my Senator days on the Holonet.”

“Maybe, but I want to see it in person.”

“Get to ousting Palpatine and dismantling the Empire then.”

“Yes ma’am.” Wolffe pressed his lips to her hairline.

They were quiet for a few minutes, laying still, listening to the rain fall outside, and content to be with each other. Riyo’s hand rested on his chest close to her face, his skin warm under her touch and right above where she imagined his heart would be. She could hear his heartbeat, a dull thud in her ears. It took most of her willpower to not drift off to sleep, because she didn’t want to miss a single moment with him.

“When do you need to go back?” she asked.

“Soon as I hear from Rex. Could be in an hour, could be tomorrow, could be in a few months.”

She responded by nuzzling into him deeper, holding him tighter.

“But I’ve been thinking, I might not go back at all. Not if you want me to stay. I can watch out for you as you do your work.”

Riyo shot up, propping herself up on one arm and looking him dead in the eye. “But, Wolffe, your brothers-“

“I can help them from here. Sniff out some useable intelligence. Surely someone on this miserable planet knows where Cody and the rest of them are. Once Bacara’s fighting fit, he’ll be more useful in the field than I ever was.”

“You’re a good soldier, Wolffe,” Riyo reminded him.

“Not as good as I was before,” he retorted, gnawing on his lip.

She glanced up to the side of his head, at the dark curls that hid a scar marking where his inhibitor chip had been removed. She knew all about it, how the events of that day affected him, and there was no need to reopen old wounds. Maybe reducing the risk of him having to revisit Cato Neimoidia would be best for him.

Yet as much as she liked the idea of him staying on Coruscant with her, her mind only filled with reasons why he couldn’t. It was too dangerous, he was needed elsewhere, Ahsoka and Rex would never go for it-

“Riyo,” Wolffe said, snapping her back to the present. He looked at her with such tenderness and adoration, she couldn’t imagine denying him anything.

“Ask me to stay, and I will.”

Riyo leaned in to kiss him. She felt his lips chasing after hers as she pulled away, and when she rested her forehead against his he caught the corner of her mouth.

“Will you stay here, with me?” she asked, her hand resting against his face. Her thumb traced along his scar.

Wolffe brought a hand up to the nape of her neck, and the other rested between her shoulder blades on her back. He closed the distance between their mouths in another kiss.

“I will.”

#does the ship have a name idk #been calling it Wolffiyo in my head because I'm not creative #commander wolffe x riyo chuchi #riyo chuchi #commander wolffe #clone wars #star wars #my writing

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yodawgiherd · 4 years ago

Text

Show, Don't Tell

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Yet another fanart-inspired work, because all I do lately is scroll Twitter and feel pain because of the leaks. Check it out -----> https://twitter.com/AnnLuVazzel/status/1392937671467671554/photo/1

I just wanted to take my mind off canon which is turning into a pile of flaming garbage.... So have some HS AU shenanigans instead!

“Dark knight! Dark knight!”

A weight crashed into the side of Eren’s body, familiar fingers quickly grasping his arm.

“C’mon Miki,”, he mumbled, ”I told you not to call me that in public.”

But when he looked at her, seeing the giddy look on her face and the light in her eyes, Eren couldn’t be mad at his girlfriend. Why did it matter that she called him strange names when he got to look at her from this close, when he got to…

Turning his body to face her better, Eren leaned in and Mikasa quickly got the message. Tilting her head she kissed him, her lips meeting his in a familiar and practiced movement. As it should, considering that they have been together for a year already.

When they first met, three years back, Eren thought that Mikasa is weird. The occult lover’s strange style of clothing and makeup and how she was adamant about calling him a “Dark Knight”, her defender against Jean’s advances, annoyed him at first. But then he got to know her, and those prejudices faded away.

Mikasa was a sweet, gentle being, hiding herself behind a wall of indifference and goth-ness, the more time they spent together the more he liked her. He also began to notice that she is really cute, especially when one of the rare smiles crossed her pale face. It took Eren a year and a half before he truly realized his feelings, and another six months to gather his courage and ask Mikasa out.

They went to see a movie, and although it was an interesting one with some man-eating giants running around Eren couldn’t fully concentrate on it. His eyes kept traveling to Mikasa’s face, seeing the tiny tears that appeared in the corners of her eyes when the main hero died. Armin would enjoy it if he was here, but Eren managed to croak his plan to him over the phone and the blond did what a true friend does and stayed home.

After the movie they grabbed ice cream, Mikasa’s favorite treat, and just strolled through the city while Eren kept repeating the whole speech in his head.

“Hey Mika,”, he began, getting her to stop and face him, “How do you… you know... feel about me?”

An adorable blush spread over her cheeks while she whispered some words that made no sense, and Eren knew that he would have to be the one to break it.

“I kinda like you.”, he deadpanned, “And I was wondering if you like me too.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed, stared for so long that Eren wondered if he didn’t break her with those words. But then the silence stretched from cute to uncomfortable and he realized that he probably put her on a spot – she was trying to figure out the gentlest way to let him down. That was not what friends do, so cursing himself inwardly, Eren offered her a way out.

“Sorry, that was a strange thing to ask.”, half-turning away, he went on, “Let’s….”

Her fingers grasped the sleeve of his shirt, holding on with much more strength than Mikasa’s slender build suggested. When she looked up to meet his eyes, the adoration that Eren saw in her face was everything he ever hoped for.

“I kinda like you too.”, she confessed.

And that was that.

Dating Mikasa Ackerman came with a number of things that Eren never realized when he asked her out, but that became known to him over their year-long romantic relationship.

It meant having to check his face anytime Eren went anywhere public because Mikasa was a messy kisser and her black lipstick left marks everywhere.

It meant dealing with Mikasa’s older brother, who – even with his short stature – scared the living shit out of him.

It meant a slow exploration of their intimacy and finding out that Mikasa, despite being so shy on the outside, could be demanding once private. She knew what she liked and wasn’t afraid to ask for it, and this went to the point where they watched porn together so Eren would get an idea of how to improve his stroke game. There was still something that she wasn’t telling him, he suspected, a darker side of her that only came out when Mikasa was truly losing control. Like those times when, deep in a haze, she asked him to slap her, spank her, or pushed Eren to be rougher….

Well, he was willing to give anything a try, as long as it was with her. Mikasa would tell him about these things once she felt comfortable about it, and Eren had no reason to push her. The things that they were doing together were already something from his wildest dreams.

“Do you have plans today?”, she asked, once they began walking home from school, still holding onto his arm.

Yea she was clingy, but he didn’t mind it one bit. Plus, walking around school and having the most beautiful girl there hold onto you like this? Let’s just say that it gave Eren quite an ego boost.

“Not really,”, he answered her question, “since I aced the test today – thanks to your tutoring I might add, I have free time.”

“Oh, come over then, my parents aren’t home.”, her face lit up, “We can watch a movie together.”

“Is it Twilight?”

“Maybe….”

Eren used to hate these movies because he found them stupid and cheesy, but as he dated Mikasa he began to appreciate the more subtle things that watching this vampire on werewolf action brought. Like the fact that Mikasa was easily distracted from the movie, and when he kissed down her neck she rarely told him to stop. Or that seeing Edward shirtless seemed to turn her on, and Eren was right there to help Mikasa’s horny thoughts.

Honestly speaking, he would shake Mr. Pattison’s hand for all the good times his performance blessed him with.

They passed the walk home with small things, talking about school and whatnot until Mikasa was unlocking the door to her house and letting him in. The first thing Eren did was check if they are indeed alone and for one reason only – while he liked both Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman, Levi was his nightmare and was sneaky as a cat. If he ever caught Eren doing anything intimate with Mikasa, it would probably be the last thing the poor boy ever did in his life.

Mikasa went to get some snacks and Eren was left in charge of preparing the movie. He turned on her laptop, found the movie but also noticed that the battery was quite low. Searching for the charger, he couldn’t find it anywhere so Eren checked the nightstand next to Mikasa’s bed. However, the third drawer held quite a surprise and it wasn’t a laptop charger.

Unsure of what the hell it was, Eren pulled the thing out and inspected it. Two black leather straps connected to a red rubber ball in the middle, with the straps having a buckle at the end so it could be locked in place.

What the…?

The door opened and Mikasa was back, but her smile faltered as soon as she saw what Eren was holding. Eyes darting between his confused face and the thing in his hand, she scrambled for an excuse.

“I.. Uhm… I can explain.”, she squeaked.

And that was when Eren took the wind out of her sails.

“Is this like a goth accessory?“, he asked in such an innocent voice that she wanted to burst.

“H-Huh?”

“Like your chokers, you know,”, Eren gestured at her vaguely, indicating the collection of odd jewelry Mikasa wore, “Piercings, necklaces, things like that. Is this such a thing too?”

She stared at him, unblinking, deciphering what the hell did he just say.

Oh god. Oh god her dark knight was so innocent and cute. He had no idea…

“Kind of..”, she drawled, weighing her options.

She could lie, say that it is indeed just one of her odd decorations, let him continue living in darkness. He would probably never find out, as Mikasa had a hard time imagining where her Eren would ever come across a ball gag.

Or….

She could tell him the truth, reveal that she enjoys using toys in the bedroom, teach him how to use them. The sex was good but it could be so much more, the possibilities this course of actions unlocked….

The fire igniting in her lower belly was the only answer Mikasa needed.

“… but not really.”, she finished her thought, stepping closer to her boyfriend and taking that toy from between his fingers.

His beautiful emerald eyes were confused as he watched Mikasa snap the leather strap. She had him in her clutches now, deep in her lair, and she wouldn’t let her dark knight leave until he learned a thing or two about her kinks. Mikasa’s gaze drawing him in better than any spell, the half-smile on her beautiful face holding him in place, Eren listened as her next words were said in that low sensual voice that never failed to make his spine tingle.

“Let me show you.”

#eremika #fanfic #fuck the ending

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rwbyvein · 4 years ago

Text

Firen Lhain: Chapter 602: Prismatic Confessions: Part III/III

Blake sat on one of the beds in her room, Ilia sitting across from her on the other.

"I guess... I should explain..." Blake voiced, and Ilia just looked at her nervously. "Yang was my partner back in Beacon."

"Like... Adam?.." Ilia asked.

"I was SO afraid she would turn out like Adam, but Adam is not freedom, not independence, not even power or justice, he - is - spite. Yang is strength. She doesn't really know what to do with it, but... she's - not - out - to - destroy - the world. I kept her at arms length for the longest time... and... I can't believe I said that."

"Blake?.." Ilia quietly voiced.

"Adam," Blake said, fighting back tears, "cut off - her arm." Ilia did a double take before looking back at Blake. "But, apparently that wasn't enough to stop Yang." Blake shook her head, causing the tears to fall away, and developed weird smile on her lips. She then wiped her eyes. "Next we have Weiss, the... former... heir... to the Schnee Dust Corporation."

Ilia developed a terrified look. "She?.."

"Was disinherited for trying to help the people of Remnant. She became a Huntress so her father, who married into the family, wouldn't be the one to define the family name. As you might imagine..." Blake said with a bright smile, "we did not - get along - that well - at first. We learned to trust each other, love each other. Next is Ruby, who is," Blake said, and paused, "hope incarnate. She's the reason the rest of the team, the reason everyone, got back together. Just being around her makes me hopeful we can succeed."

"And... the buck?.." Ilia asked.

"He prefers hart, through he's actually a Caribou." Blake warmly said to her, "He's the warmest, gentlest warrior I've ever met."

"He did not feel..." Ilia tried to say.

"He didn't hurt you." Blake voiced, "I've seen him strip Yang's considerable Aura with a single punch." Ilia looked at her with wide eyes. "You can't tell me it didn't feel warm being carried by him."

"Even if I was being carried under his arm?" Ilia asked.

"Whom are you trying to convince?" Blake asked her, and Ilia stared into nothing for a moment.

"Wh... why... are you telling me this?" Ilia asked.

"Because," Blake voiced, "if you join us, it wouldn't be as my girlfriend... but you will still need to know how I feel about everyone here."

Ilia looked off into nothingness as she thought this over.

* * *

Blake walked down the stairs, only to step into the sisters shouting at each other. She didn't hear what Ruby had originally said.

"Chill, sis!" Yang shouted, "Everyone knows I've got it going on."

"But!" Ruby tried to say.

"But what, Sis?" Yang asked.

"I mean..." Ruby voiced.

Blake looked around inside, not seeing Jaune anywhere. It wasn't until she looked out on the patio that she found him. She walked out to the patio, closing the door behind her. Jaune turned his head briefly to see who it was before looking back over the night.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you." Blake nervously stated.

"A lot of things happened today," Jaune voiced, "but I wouldn't say disturbed is one of them."

"I'm not bothering you, am I?" she asked, as she nervously walked up to him.

"I honestly don't know." he said, and the two stared out into the darkness. "Just... so much happened today. It doesn't seem real. Does it?" he asked, and turned to her.

She nervously tried to look at him, but had to look back out into the darkness. Jaune turned to join her. "It, "she voiced, "makes far more sense than it really should."

"It, what?.." Jaune asked. "We can't... can we?.. I mean..."

"I mean," Blake said, and moved slightly towards him, "it makes more sense than it should." Blake took another step towards him, and then another snuggling up to him. He shook with a start for a moment and then continued staring into the darkness. He moved his arm around Blake, hovering over her shoulder, unsure of what to do. She grabbed his hand and pulled his arm around her. "You've never been shy, before." she voiced.

"It's never meant this much before." Jaune voiced. "You girls were always so unattainable. The most I thought I could expect was friendship. And you, along with my team, are the best friends I've ever had. I just... never... thought..."

"Never thought, what?" Yang asked as she walked over. "I've seen the way you look at us."

Jaune turned just enough to look back at her, trying not to disturb Blake, "With... respect..."

"Well... yeah..." Yang voiced, "but a little somethin' else. I've seen your eyes wonder, if you know what I'm saying." And Jaune sighed in reply.

"Okay, yes, you're all so amazingly beautiful." he stated.

"And apparently last night it was a cat burglar, as she decided to jump to the front of the line."

"I just... needed... someone..." Blake voiced.

"I could have..." Yang tried to say.

"You were having a... talk..." Blake voiced, "with your sister."

"Is there?.." Jaune voiced, "Actually a line, or?.."

With this Yang sighed. "Sorry." she voiced, as she walked up to Jaune's free side. When he didn't react she spoke up. "You've got two hands, and I expect you to use them." Jaune quickly wrapped his arm around Yang's shoulder. "So, we didn't want to fight about this, but this is my play. I'm a babe, and you certainly know that. I've caught you staring."

Yang squeezed Jaune and then slipped out of his arm, before returning to the house, Jaune's head following her before looking back at Blake..

"And?" Jaune asked, "this is yours?"

"Two Faunus," she said with a pause, "with eye-shine, staring out into the night?" Blake asked, "How could it not?"

"Exactly." Jaune said with a smile.

* * *

Jaune and Blake stepped inside, when a burst of rose petals appeared in front of them. "Okay!" Ruby shouted.

"Ruby?" Jaune asked, and Blake respectfully stepped away.

"So, Yang-and-Blake-made-their-move-and-I-want-to-make-my-move-but-I-really-don't-know-what-but-just-know-that-you're-the-first-one-to-talk-to-me-and-I-don't-think-I-could-live-without-you-and-I-wanted-to-thank-you-for-coming-with-me-and-I..."

"Easy, Ruby." Jaune stated.

"but?.." Ruby tried to ask.

"I don't think I could live without you, either." Jaune grumbled, "Which is one of the reasons this is so... difficult..."

Weiss cleared her throat, and Jaune looked over to her. Weiss had a light blue flush, and hands tented in front of her face; when she dropped them he saw a smile, "I do believe it is my turn." Jaune gave her a nervous smile.

"Is this going to be fancy?" Jaune asked, and Weiss nervously looked down and around, anywhere but at him. Ruby turned to leave but Jaune quickly pulled her into a powerful hug. He then kissed her on the head, let her go, and turned back to Weiss.

"I suppose?" Weiss teppidly asked, "candour is in order." She nervously looked up into his eyes. She breathed in deep for a moment. "Yes?" she nervously asked, and he lightly sighed.

"Remember, I want to spend time with you." Jaune stated, and Aurora appeared behind Weiss.

"As I expected." Aurora said, and Weiss jumped. She turned to glare at her. "I have made alternate arrangements."

"Aurora!" Weiss admonished her, and then breathed in deep, "And they are?"

"Not quite as fancy," Aurora voiced, "as he says, but a lot more private."

Weiss then looked at Jaune. "Well, he does seem to enjoy the idea..." She then turned to Aurora, "Very well. Dress will be?"

"Formal." Aurora said, and Weiss looked expectantly at Jaune.

"I... uh... walked here... with the clothing on my back." Jaune voiced.

"We could..." Weiss tried to say.

"After poking the dragon's den... queen... bitch..." Jaune voiced, "I would rather NOT be without my armour.

"Huntsmen are normally except from formal dress requirements," Aurora stated, "unless they are... well... Qrow..."

"You got a problem?" Qrow asked, and Aurora brushed her chin as she looked at him. "What, you don't like my beard?"

"That - "Aurora voiced, "is not - a beard."

Weiss looked at her incensed until Qrow just started laughing out loud. He then stood up and looked her in the eyes, "I like you." he said, and Aurora nervously looked away. "Oh, man, she's a keeper, Weiss."

"I will take your accolades into consideration," Weiss replied, "though, so far, she has been fantastic."

* * *

Weiss and Jaune walked along the street, side-by-side as they followed behind Aurora. "So, tell me?.." Weiss nervously asked, "Did you truly walk across two continents with but one set of clothes?"

"Well," Jaune voiced, "I did bring spare socks and underwear."

"And... who has been cleaning it?.." Weiss asked.

"The laundry fairy." Jaune stated.

Weiss smiled for a moment, "I doubt you mean that seriously."

"I think it's Ren," Jaune stated, "though I'm not sure, but Ren seems like the most likely candidate."

"Are you?.. serious?.." Weiss asked him.

"100%," Jaune replied, "swear to the good god. My clothes were always clean by the time I was done bathing."

"You - bathed?," Weiss asked, "Out in the open?.."

"Ruby and Nora always turn around, and Pyrrha was the same way."

"And I suppose you were just as much of a gentleman?" Weiss asked.

"Of course." Jaune said. "Trust is incredibly important."

"And as a former noble, you have your honour to think of." Weiss said, and Jaune sighed. "I'm sorry, I did not mean..."

"No..." Jaune voiced. "Whether that's why, or not, I try to always mean what I say."

"Your earnestness is infectious." Weiss replied. "Just please stay your charming self, and not the one I first met."

"Uh... yeah..." Jaune said, and then let out awkward laughter. "I was pretty terrible." he added, and Weiss giggled.

"Looking back on it, it's almost a fond memory, but... yes... you were. I much prefer this charming gentleman."

"Hardly... gentle..." Jaune voiced.

"You can be a bit of a lummox, but you are always genuine, always wanting to help. Too bad it took being a bird locked in a cage to make me realize it."

"I kind of find that hard to believe." Jaune voiced.

"Oh?" Weiss asked.

"Being in a bird cage and not trying to pick the lock or something?" Jaune.

"I tried to find lawyers to take my case, but the only ones I knew were the family lawyers."

"Ah..." Jaune voiced.

"They were right in that it was a conflict of interest." Weiss voiced.

"So?," Jaune asked, "then what did you do?"

"Hire Aurora." Weiss said, and made a thrusting movement with an invisible rapier, "And had her offshore my savings so I could be supported once I escape."

* * *

Weiss and Jaune sat on a table on a balcony, overlooking the night as a sommelier poured their wine.

* * *

Aurora opened the door to the house and walked inside, stepping aside so that Jaune could walk in arm-in-arm with Weiss. A burst of rose petals appeared in front of them.

"How was your wine tasting?" Ruby eagerly asked, trying her best not to be judgemental, or jealous, or at least less socially awkward than she usually was.

Jaune stepped forward to kiss her on her lips. Ruby turned pale(r) and nearly fainted.

"I suppose we can blame that on the wine." Weiss said with a smile, and then stepped forward to do the same. This time Ruby's knees did buckle, and luckily Jaune was ready to catch her. He picked her up like a princess and walked her over to the couch. He gently put her down, and stood up, staring at her. He dropped his hand and cupped her face before gently stroking her hair.

"Shit," Yang said, "you don't take any prisoners."

"You have your," Jaune said, and thought, "bodacious play. Blake had her quiet, Weiss her company. I had to give Ruby something."

"And ice queen?" Yang asked.

"My plan is to blame it on the wine." Weiss said with a bright smile.

#rwby #firen lhain #faunus au #pollinated knight #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long

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meetmeatthecoda · 3 years ago

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Lately, I've found myself drawn to stories ( and I mean drawn to as in envisioning those stories in my head, thinking them through to the very last detail, not reading, let alone writing them down, because I've long since accepted that they will never turn out quite the same on the paper ) where Red is the one who'd been seriously hurt and, therefore, rendered unconscious for an indefinite amount of time and worried Liz is the one who doesn't leave his side, hoping and praying and pleading that he would wake up. Probably, something that has to do with how unfair it is that we've seen Red keep vigil by hurt!Lizzy's side – playing music for her, holding her hand, reading to her etc. – a number of times and yet, over the course of 8 seasons, never have ever been allowed the pleasure of seeing Liz do the same for him ( not even when he was shot – because she left to retrieve the Fulcrum and couldn't come back until the fight was over – or when he was poisoned – because she'd been waiting to be cleared to see him and he ran away the moment he wasn't actively dying, because that's Red for you all ), even though she loves and cares about him as much as he loves and cares about her.

I mean, just imagine the possibilities!

Liz pacing around the waiting area of Red's mobile hospital while he's in surgery, unable to think about anything else other than how he looked – battered and broken and barely alive – when they've found him and how his head rested in her lap ( she could almost convince herself that he was merely dozing, if he wasn't so deathly pale and still and there wasn't so much blood on his clothes and her clothes and her hands and the backseat of the car ) and his hand was limp in her death grip as they rushed him to his doctors and she whispered words of reassurance and encouragement to him even though she knew he couldn't hear her and how she had to fight the instinct to curl around her lover and snarl at anyone who would come close because she can't let him be hurt further as the medics took him away from her, exchanging observations and orders that didn't sound particularly reassuring. She's also acutely aware of the fact that Red is fighting for his life – there, just a few feet away from her – and, though he's the strongest man she's ever known, he may not win, and so she makes a promise to the empty air in front of her that she will kill him herself if he dares to give up on her and Agnes like that now, when they've just reached the good, right place in their relationship, just confesses their feelings to each other. At some point, Dembe most certainly pulls Liz in for a hug, letting her cry in his shoulder, doing his best to comfort her ( even though there's nothing that can bring her more comfort than Red's hug, when he – alive and whole – wraps his arms protectively around her and holds her close and lets her hide from the whole world in his arms, his chest, his shoulder and neck – wherever she prefers to burrow her face at the time – and the memory itself makes her cry harder, because there's a possibility that he will never hug her like that again ), even though he's just as worried and scared as she is, and Mr Kaplan helps Liz clean up, washing away Red's blood from her hands and producing seemingly out of the thin air fresh clothes for her to change into.

Red, of course, pulls through the surgery, beating all odds, and Liz's heart floods with relief at the good news before sinking when the doctor explains to her and Dembe and Mr Kaplan the extent of Red's injuries and that it's impossible to say when – or even if – he wakes up.

And so the waiting game begins. Liz doesn't leave Red's side, holding his hand, stroking his knuckles with her thumb and never letting go, constantly talking to him and reading to him and even asking Dembe to bring the record player and some records from the Bethesda apartment to play to him, hoping that it would elicit some kind of response from him. Yet, as they days go by, there's not a single, smallest sign that he's aware of anything that's going on around him, that he's still there somewhere and is trying to find his way back to her, to them – he doesn't stir, doesn't so much as flutter his eyelashes, and Liz grows more desperate with each passing day, even though the doctor assures her that Red's slowly but surely improving ( but she can't see it with her own eyes, and if she can't see it, she's less likely to believe it, the more time passes with him just lying there, undisturbed by the loud, chaotic world around him ).

And then there's Agnes... While Liz keeps vigil at Red's bedside, the babysitting duties are split equally between Aram and Samar, Charlene and Cooper, Ressler and Audrey and Dembe and Mr Kaplan. Yet more often than not whoever picks little Agnes up from school and / or her ballet classes brings her over to the safe-house where Liz and Red are. She doesn't seem to be as unnerved by Red's state as her mommy is, climbing on his bed each time she visits ( after giving her mommy the biggest hug, of course ) and leaning in close to him, examining his face thoughtfully before half-asking, half-stating "He's still tired, mommy?". And Liz usually replies with a hoarse "Yes, baby" because she doesn't trust herself not to get choked up if she tries to answer more eloquently. Agnes simply nods then, satisfied with the explanation why he hasn't woken up yet, and settles against Red's side – mindful of his injuries and the spider web of wires and tubes connecting him to all sorts of monitors and machines – and either naps ( especially, on ballet classes days ) or tells her mommy and Red ( she talks to him just like Liz does much too easily – promising him to show him the new moves she's learnt when he wakes up etc. – as if she's already done that before or seen anyone else do that... unbeknownst to Liz, she did both – when Liz herself was in a coma, Agnes both saw Red talk to her mommy and was encouraged by him to talk to her, too, because it may help her mommy sleep easier and maybe she'll get better sooner and finally wake up ) about her day or does her homework or draws ( more often than not, she draws either cards for Red to read when he wakes up or just things she wants him to see ). And when the time comes for her to leave, she always kisses Red on the cheek, wishing him "sweet dreams" and to get better soon, and then gives her mommy, who tries so very hard not to tear up but fails miserably, a hug and a kiss, too, and tells her frequently that she shouldn't cry because Red is just too tired, just like she – Liz – once was, and that he just needs to sleep a bit more.

And when the door behind Agnes closes and Liz is sure her daughter won't see / hear her, she breaks down hard, in big, ugly sobs, because her little girl shouldn't be acting so naturally in this kind of situation and because she wishes so hard that Red just woke up, because she can't do this, any of this, without him.

In the end, once his body has healed itself enough and he regained enough of his strength, Red, of course, does wake up. It's a slow process, and Liz thinks she might either faint or go mad from the overwhelming feelings that are swirling inside of her when Red moves for the first time in what seems to her like forever – squeezing her hand feather-lightly – and when he leans slightly, unconsciously into her touch when she strokes his cheek – out of habit, without even expecting any sort of reaction from him and being pleasantly surprised – and when he opens his eyes for the first time – it's a brief occurrence, with his eyes slipping shut tiredly again after just a few moments, and he's still pretty much out of it, apparently, not even noticing her presence by his side, but for Liz it's a major event – and when he finally, finally looks directly at her – alive and conscious and alert – and calls her "Lizzy". He's still weak and his voice sounds terrible and Liz knows she shouldn't let all of her pent-up feelings – the fear and despair and frustration and love and relief and exhaustion – out on him like that – he's just woken up, after all – but she can't hold back the tears nor the jumbled mess of "thank you"s and "I love you"s and " "I've missed you"s and "I'm so so happy you're back" and "I was so worried" and "Don't ever scare me like that again" that spills from her lips as she leans in to kiss him lightly and give him the gentlest of hugs...

(Since I'm not a ficwriter and, therefore, have no intentions of using this pile of ideas/images/feelings myself, I wouldn't mind at all if you or any other writer drew inspiration from this rambling of mine)

Ahhhhh 😭😭😭 Are you sure you're not a fic writer, anon?? Cause this reads like some quality hurt/comfort to me!! 🥲🥲 Honestly, this is a lovely scenario to imagine & it gives me a slightly bitter sense of satisfaction to think of Liz suffering through just a fraction of the time Red spent by her side while she was in her coma... especially if it's the catalyst for fEeLiNgS to emerge tee hee bc, you're RIGHT, we were woefully deprived of those situations in the show & I'll never not be sad about it tbh. More specifically, things I love the most about this in no particular order: Liz having to "fight the instinct to curl around her lover & snarl" *swoon*, Liz swearing she will kill him herself if he dies LMAO, Dembe hugging her for comfort & Mr. Kaplan helping her get cleaned up 🥺🥺🥺, Liz playing records for Red yasss, AGNES & everyone taking turns babysitting her while she misses her Daddy desperately but deals with the situation with a maturity & grace beyond her years in an effort to help her grieving Mommy through it cool cool mkay mkay, Liz only breaking down once Agnes leaves OWWW, anddddd Liz being a blubbering mess when Red finally wakes up & calls her "Lizzie" & they kiss *whispers* it's fine, i'm fine 🙃 IN CONCLUSION, I love this anon, thank you for sharing this lovely little AU with me!! 🥰 And much, much love to you, of course, my friend!! ❤️

#The Blacklist #Lizzington #Agnesgate #thoughts #headcanons #mine #ask #anon #ughhhhhhhh #this mini fic is packed with feels #and punched me right in the face #thank you for this gift anon #:')#much love!!#<3

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bellakitse · 5 years ago

Text

searching for a trail to follow again

How many life decisions did you make today?

Just one more.

Before TK talks to his team, he and Carlos have a conversation at the hospital and come to a decision about their relationship.

*Spoilers for the finale*

They finish stitching him up, and the nurse leaves but not before giving him a lecture about being more careful. She doesn’t seem impressed that he popped his stitches trying to save someone’s life. Though she does take pity on him enough to find him a spare t-shirt, getting rid of his ruin one.

It hurts to lift his arm with the fresh stitches, and the day’s events are catching up with him. He’s struggling with the top when he hears footsteps. Looking towards the door, he’s both surprised and not surprised to see who’s there, his heart giving a jerk at who it is.

“Hey,” he starts, not sure what else to add as he looks at Carlos. He watches him as he gives him a quick once over, no doubt checking to see how hurt he is, his shoulders losing some of their tension as he concludes that he’s all right.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Carlos says softly as he walks into the room. “I would have come with you earlier but –“

“You had to keep helping,” he finishes for him with a half-smile. Of course, Carlos stayed behind to help; it doesn’t matter that he’s not on the clock or that he’s in street clothes. It’s obvious that Carlos was made to help people; it’s in his blood the way it’s in his dad’s. Carlos’ thoughtfulness and compassion leaps out of him in everything he does.

Even now, after their less than awesome date, which ended with them breaking up – can you even break up if you weren’t really together? And if they weren’t together, why does TK ache right now looking at him – even now Carlos is proving how kind he is by being here.

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks as he comes to stand in front of where he sits.

TK holds on to the shirt he’s been trying to put on, twisting it in his hands. He shifts nervously, and the paper on the exam table underneath him crinkles loudly. “Yeah,” he licks his lips anxiously as he bobs his head. “I’m okay. I checked on the woman from the bus, Ellen, and then had them fix my stitches,” he tries to smile, but it feels stiff on his face. “Then the nurse yelled at me for being reckless.”

Carlos smiles back at him gently. “You should have told her you were being a hero.”

TK chuckles, some of the tension he feels disappearing. That’s the thing about Carlos, he’s seen him in bad shape, acting at his worse, but he still finds a way to make TK feel good and comfortable, while all TK seems to do is disappoint him.

“Do you need help with your shirt?” Carlos questions, giving it a look. “It looked like you were struggling.”

TK stares at him, taking in Carlos’ kind eyes, patient the way he always is with him, and it hurts how much he wants to keep him. Even while knowing he doesn’t deserve it.

“May I?” he holds out his hand for TK to hand him the shirt, flashing him a smile when he does.

“We’ll go slow,” Carlos assures him as he slips the shirt over his head. “Now, the good side.”

TK does as he’s told, wincing when they get to the hurt side of his body, the stitches on his chest pull as he lifts his arm. “Shit,” he says, letting out a small groan.

Carlos makes a sympathetic noise, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze as he helps TK put his arm through the opening. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, not realizing how the endearment makes TK’s heart skip. He runs a hand down TK’s side, smoothing the shirt out. “There, we’re done.”

“Why are you here?” he blurts out, feeling like an absolute dick at the hurt look that flashes across Carlos’ face.

Carlos takes a breath, and his expression settles into something more neutral, carefully blank. It reminds TK of the night at the police station. Of Carlos telling him he’s used to crazy. It’s the most closed-off TK has ever seen Carlos be with him, and he hated it. He hates it now too.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he repeats after a moment.

“Why?” he asks, the plea loud for both of them to hear. “After today at the juice bar, after how we ended things, why Carlos?”

Carlos frowns at him, but he doesn’t look mad. Instead, he seems worried, and TK can only imagine the look on his face right now, how desperate he must look. “I care about you, TK,” Carlos starts, his words hitting TK hard. “You not wanting to be with me doesn’t change that. I care about you, and I’m going to keep doing so, even if we’re never together.”

“You shouldn’t,” TK gets out, feeling his eyes sting, and he has to bite down on his lip to keep from giving in to the urge to cry. “I’m not worth it.”

Carlos’ eyes go hard, and now TK starts to see some anger. “That’s for me to decide, Tyler,” he says sternly. “Not you.”

TK shakes his head, frustration making him all but vibrate.

“I’ll hurt you,” he promises, pushing forward when he sees Carlos open his mouth to argue. “You said you felt some strong feelings when you saw me in that hospital bed. Well, this isn’t the first time this year that’s happened. It’s not the first time I’ve almost died.”

“TK –“

“I OD’d back in New York,” he rushes to get out, the words feeling like bile at his throat. He watches as Carlos gets a stricken look on his face. It hurts TK to hurt him, but better he know now, rather than later. “I got my heartbroken, and instead of handling it, I scored some pills and OD’d. My dad found me passed out, and my heart had stopped,” he finishes, his voice breaking.

He can’t help the tears that fall now, and he hates that there are tears on Carlos’ face too. “That’s who I am, Carlos, now tell me I’m still worth caring for.”

TK watches as Carlos struggles for a moment as he looks away from him, he takes in the way he’s trying to get his breath under control, the tear tracks down his face, and the shake in his left hand. His body looks like a tight coil ready to spring.

When he looks back at TK, there is a resolve in his expression that makes TK’s breath catch.

“Yes, you are.”

TK shakes his head, feeling his lungs tighten as he fights for a breath. “No.”

“Yes, Tyler,” Carlos answers, his tone tells TK he’s firm in his conviction, and TK finds himself crying, it’s selfish of him, but he’s relieved, and he knows he can’t hide it.

“Carlos – “ he gets out, not even knowing what he wants to say.

Carlos closes the gap between them. His hands tenderly cradle TK’s face, bringing another wave of tears as he’s touched with such care. “Listen to me,” he starts, his voice is gentle in that way that seems to be for him alone. “You can tell me that you don’t want this, that you don’t have feelings for me. I can handle that. It would suck, but I’m a big boy, and you aren’t my first rejection. You can tell me that you aren’t ready for anything more, and you just want me to be your friend. You can even tell me that you never want to see me again, and to get lost.”

TK lets out a huff as he rolls his eyes. That’s the last thing he wants, everything would be so much easier if that were the case.

Carlos gives him a small smile in return.

“But you can’t tell me not to care about you,” Carlos raises his eyebrows at him, making sure he’s listening. He is, he’s listening even as his heart pounds loudly in his ears. “Because that’s not going to happen. I will always care about you, and you telling me about your OD, doesn’t change that. If anything, it makes me care and admire you more.”

“You’re crazy,” TK jokes faintly, affection spreading through his body for the man holding him. It’s such a bad idea, but he can’t help but want for Carlos to keep doing it, and he wants to hold him back.

He wraps his hands around Carlos’ wrists, pulling his hands off his face. Carlos moves to take a step back, but TK tightens his hold, keeping him in place. Waiting him out, Carlos raises an eyebrow at him.

TK realizes with a stumble of his heart that it’s his move to make. Tugging him forward, he lets out a breath when Carlos steps in closer.

“I’m a mess,” he warns him, looking at Carlos seriously. He needs him to understand what he’s getting into with him. “I’m probably going to be a mess for a while.”

Carlos answers him with a soft smile. “I’m not perfect either, TK.”

“I might hurt you,” he counters, swallowing when Carlos nods.

“I might hurt you too,” he says softly. TK doesn’t tell him that he already knows that. Given a chance, he knows he’ll give Carlos his whole heart, and with it the power to crush it.

Carlos sees this, and TK lets out a trembling breath as Carlos leans in, touching his forehead against his. “I’ll try very hard not to though,” he whispers, his breath like a touch against TK’s mouth.

“Me too,” TK whispers in return.

Carlos pulls back, the beginnings of a smile on his face. He’s beautiful, and TK’s crazy heart gives out yet another erratic thump. “What does that mean?”

TK closes his eyes, a reluctant smile making its way to his face. “You said we could go slow,” he says, pointing at the shirt Carlos just carefully helped him put on. He thinks if there is anyone who would be careful with his heart, it’s Carlos.

“You set the speed,” he tells him, his eyes bright with joy, it makes TK feel warm and cared for.

“Yeah?” TK asks, needing to be sure.

Carlos nods. “Yes, TK,” he answers tenderly. He raises a hand again to touch TK’s face, his thumb caressing his cheek.

TK leans into the touch, grabbing at Carlos’ shirt to pull him even closer. He touches the back of Carlos’ neck and pushes himself up from the exam table to brush his lips against his.

He keeps the kiss light, the barest touch of their mouths, but it’s been weeks since he’s kissed Carlos, and it’s more than enough to make every part of TK’s body hum.

“Then can we, be a ‘we’ now?” he asks quietly, his heart buzzing with hopefulness.

The smile Carlos gives him when he says yes, is the gentlest anyone outside his father has ever given him, and as he feels it against his mouth when they kiss again, something inside him slowly starts to mend.

#911 lone star #tarlos fic #tarlos #911 lone star fic #tk x carlos #my writing

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sweetiepie08 · 4 years ago

Text

All I Ask of You (Chap 4)

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance fic

Deet x Rian

She walked into his life when all seemed lost. He accepted her when the other surface dwellers didn’t. She was gentle. He was brave. Their first impressions dwelt in their minds and their feelings grew as their journey wore on. They supported each other, comforted each other, and gave each other strength. Together, they were a light in the darkness.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

[-]

Standing hand in hand at Stone-in-the-Wood, they watched the Crucible until the last blue flame died out. Rian’s question lingered in their minds. “Will they come?” She knew his faith in their fellow gelfling was tested time after time on their journey. Would they believe him? Would they help him? Would they see the truth? He'd been let down so many times, it was no wonder there was still doubt.

“I think so,” she assured him, placing her other hand on his. “Brea and Gurjin and the rest will, at least. And they may bring others.” She offered him a smile, a genuine one. It was a relief to see Brea safe and the rest of their friends away from harm.

He returned her smile, but it faded into his exhausted expression. “We'd better get ready, then.”

His hand slipped out of hers as he began walking off toward one of the buildings. It left an impression, just like his touch always did, as if her skin wanted to savor the sensation. Even now, she could feel him in her memory. His weight in her arms as she carried him through the breath of Thra, the hand he laid on her back after their crash to make sure she was alright, her arms wrapped around him as he carried her out of the cave's mouth… He had a way of making her feel protected and safe with only the touch of his hands, and the feeling always lingered.

His acts of gallantry didn't end there. She watched him slip back into the soldier as they journeyed through the caves of Grot. He led her, sword in hand, ready to face any danger they may encounter. He insisted on entering her house first, just in case there were any arathim inside. When a darkened nurloc attacked, he drew the creature to himself so she could escape.

She understood the impulse to protect well. After all, she’d done the same for him. When the Hunter infiltrated the Circle of the Suns, she instinctively jumped in front of Rian, not thinking of her own safety or how to defend herself. Her only thought was that she didn't want to see him harmed again.

She followed him to a large stone building behind them Maudra’s home. They found the door padlocked. Rian disappeared into the Maudra’s home for a brief moment and returned with the key.

“What is this?” Deet asked.

“The Armory,” Rian answered, unlocking the door. “The Stonewood have a saying. ‘The hand that wields the blade cannot help the fall into their feet, but there are times when the blade is necessary.’ So, we're always prepared.” He swung the doors open, revealing the stores of Stonewood weapons. Armor hung on the walls. Spears, axes, and swords rested in their stands. “Traditionally, when a Stonewood warrior's battle is over, they melt their blade down in the Crucible. The metal is then forged into new blades when they are needed again.”

“Excuse me but…” She glanced towards the courtyard, “those blades didn’t look melted to me.”

“Yes, the Crucible stopped working after the Arathim Wars. I imagine the glaive had something to do with that. Perhaps Thra knew we would need them again before long.”

They stepped in and looked around. The empty space on the shelves and walls gave some clue as to what exactly happened to the Stonewood Warriors.

“It seems your clan got your message, after all,” Deet said, noting an empty axe-shaped space on the wall surrounded by a layer of dust.

“Yes,” he murmured, gently leaning the glaive against a wall. “If I hadn't seen more Maudra Fara in the flames, I'd be fearing the worst.”

Together, they spent the rest of the afternoon taking inventory and counting supplies. Once that was finished, Rian took up the duel glaive again. He held it up to the light and ran his fingers carefully along the edge. He didn’t seem satisfied with what he found.

“For a legendary sword, this thing could stand to be a lot sharper,” he quipped, taking a fresh whetstone off the shelf. “I think we've done about all we can here, at least until we see who shows up.” He took the keys and started out. “Come on. I think I've got a surprise.”

“What's that?”

He cast her smirk over his shoulder “How would you like to sleep with a roof over your head for a change?”

They walked away from the armory and he led her to a house not far from the village square. It was a charming home carved into the trunk of a tree. There was a little path lined with rocks leading up to it. Colored glass bobbles and a bird feeder hung from the lower branches. It looked dark, especially in the twilight of the setting suns, but she could so easily imagine it lit up with candles and a warm fire.

“I this your house?” she asked as Rian reached into a knot on the side of the tree and pulled out a spare key.

“It is now, I guess,” he said. “This was my grandmother's house. I spent my summers here as a childling. She passed away a few unumn before all this chaos started. It passed to my father and now…” He unlocked the door without another word and they went inside.

It was dark and very still. She could see the fireplace, some soft chairs, a sofa and a rug on the floor. It looked cozy and lived in. It looked like a home and it made her heart ache for her own. “It's lovely.”

“Thank you. This is probably my favorite place in Thra, to be honest.” He looked around with a gentle fondness in his eyes. “Some of my happiest memories are here.”

“Those summers you talked about? When your father would visit? Camping and fizzgig hunting?”

A smile spread on his lips. “Yes exactly. It'll be nice to spend at least one more night here. Whatever happens tomorrow…” The warmth in his face quickly faded to dread. That happened to him so easily and it made her heart hurt every time.

She put her hand on his shoulder as if she could transfer some of her warmth to him. “Let's try to make it fun, then.”

“Fun?” he said as if he didn't know the meaning of the word.

“Yes, let's pretend we're just two gelfling spending a quiet night together. Tomorrow is just an ordinary day.”

He looked amused for a moment but that, too, faded quickly. “As tempting as that is, I've had enough comforting lies for one lifetime.”

“It's not a lie. It's a game,” she said, putting some playfulness into her voice.

“The way a childling plays house?”

“Yes, that's it. We'll pretend we live a peaceful life here and we're just enjoying our evening the way we usually would.”

“Alright.” A genuine grin broke like daylight on his face. “But if we're going to play, we'll need characters.”

“She beamed at him. Now he was catching on. “Good idea. I'll be Miss Hollerbat and I'm an herbalist.”

“I'm Mr. Nebrie, the cobbler.

“Alright,” she laughed. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Nebrie.”

“Enchanted, Miss Hollerbat.” He stepped forward and kissed her hand.

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “You have a lovely home, Mr. Nebrie.”

“Thank you Miss Hollerbat. I'm so glad you could visit.” His eyes drifted to the kitchen. “Let's just hope there's food in it.”

“I'll start a fire while you look.”

“Sounds good.” He flashed her a smile as he headed toward the kitchen. “Please make yourself at home.”

“For that, we might need to move this place quite far underground,” she quipped, looking for flint stones.

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” he said, laughter in his voice.

The sound made her heart swell. “And of course we'll need a few dozen nurloc.”

“Nurloc might be hard to come by,” he retorted, keeping up his playful tone, “but you can trip over a few hundred fizzgig at any given moment.”

Rian managed to scrape together enough food for a stew, although he did have to check other people’s gardens and hope a few vegetables wouldn't be missed. He also found a bottle of Spriton berry wine for them to share. Once supper was ready, they sat together by the fire to eat. When they finished, they sipped their wine as the fire crackled and they continue to their game.

“So how was your day, Mr. Nebrie,” Deet asked, taking a sip from her glass.

“Well, let’s see,” Rian mused. “I woke up, had breakfast, tripped over about a hundred fizzgig…”

“You said that about the fizzgig, already,” she pointed out, giggling.

“You don't understand they're usually everywhere. Just a truly ridiculous amount of fizzgig wherever you look.” He put down his glass so he could gesture more freely. Deet laughed as he became more animated. “A lot of people keep them as pets, but my father always said ‘why bother when there are going to be at least three barking at your door any moment?’”

“Didn't you say you hunted fizzgig as a childling?”

“Yes but we never kept them,” he explained smiling at the memory. “We just gave them some belly rubs and some berries for their troubles and let them go.”

“Oh, that's sweet.” She could so easily imagine tiny Rian playing gently with the fuzzy creatures.

“Actually, when I was a childling, we had this neighbor. Orla was her name. She was the sweetest little old lady and she kept about five fizzgig at a time. They were the gentlest, most docile creatures you ever saw. They left every living thing in Thra alone except my father.” A nostalgic twinkle came to his eye as he spoke. “My mother and I could always tell when he was almost home because all five would start yapping at once. I don't know what he did to earn their ire, but they never let it go. Those fizzgig and Maudra Fara were the only creatures in Thra who could irritate my father on purpose and get away with it.”

“Maudra Fara?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I'm fairly certain teasing my father to his face was a favorite hobby of hers.” A shadow passed over his face. “I imagine she’ll miss that.”

“Perhaps she can tease you instead,” Deet suggested, hoping to lighten his mood.

He shook his head. “I don't think it will have the same appeal. A lot of my friends tease me all the time, but no one messed with my father.” His smile faded as he looked away from her. He went quiet for a moment. His eyes fogged over as he lost himself in thought.

Deet reached out to him. “Rian?”

He looked up and flashed her a forced smile. “I'm fine.” He let out a deep breath and continued their game. “So Miss Hollerbat, how are you enjoying Stone-in-the-Wood so far?” he asked, taking another sip from his wine glass.

“Oh, it's been wonderful,” she answered, feeling the warmth in her chest. “There's so many beautiful plants and animals that I've never seen before. And I've met the sweetest gelfling… maybe not here, exactly, but near here. He is a Stonewood, though. He’s great friend. He really helped me feel welcome on the surface, like I'm not so strange after all.”

“I'm sorry Miss Hollerbat, but that's impossible,” he interjected firmly.

“Excuse me?”

“I happen to know the sweetest gelfling in Thra is a Grotton named Deet.” The way he looked at her made her heart beat wildly. “She's the kindest soul I've ever met. She's really been a great friend, too. I don't know if I'd have made it this far without her. I just hope that, with everything that lies ahead, I can keep her safe.”

She reached out and put her hand on his, her heart racing all the while. “I know my friend Rian is very brave. I've seen him put himself between his friends in danger many times before. And he does it because he has so much love in his heart. Whatever happens tomorrow, I'll know he fought his hardest to protect everyone. It's too big a job for one gelfling to take on alone, but he tries anyway. I just hope he knows he's not alone and he'll always be my kind, brave friend.”

“Deet always knows the best things to say,” he choked out. She could hear tears behind his voice. He took her other hand, looking at her with glistening eyes. “What should he and say to her to tell her how much she's helped him?”

“He doesn't have to say anything. It's what friends do.”

“What do you think Deet would like Rian to say to her?” He asked, leaning closer.

“Well,” she paused to collect her thoughts and attempt to stop her head from spinning. “I imagine it made her feel really good whenever he told her he didn't think she was weird. After so many gelfling made her feel like she didn't belong, it was nice to hear out loud that someone accepted her.”

He flashed a mischievous grin. “I’ll bet Rian would like to know the names of these gelflings so he can have a little talk with them about how wonderful deed is and tell them they are idiots for not seeing it.”

“Deet would probably say it's alright because he's already made her feel safe and accepted and…” She searched her mind for something to add, but she’d lost herself in the sparkling blue of his eyes. “…and he gives great hugs.”

“I'll have to tell her she should try hugging Gurjin sometime to compare,” he laughed. “And I should tell her that just being around her has made everything that happened more bearable.”

“I'll have to tell him that just being around him makes her happy.”

“And I'll tell her she makes the world seem more beautiful even when times are hard.”

“And I'll tell him he makes the surface feel more like home.”

“And I’ll-” He stopped himself short and seem to deflate. “No…” he muttered to himself. “That's too much to ask.”

“What?”

He let go of her hand and stood up, leaving the ghost of his touch behind. “It's just… I've lost so many gelfling I love on this journey…” He leaned on the mantle watched the fireplace as the logs burned and crackled. He went quiet for a long time, seeming to struggle with something in his mind. Finally he whispered her name. “Deet, I would accept one more comforting lie if only you say it.”

“What is it?”

“Could… could you say you love me?” He looked at her and his eyes broke her heart. “You don't have to meet it. It can just be part of our game. But just hearing the words…”

“I can't,” she whispered.

He nodded and turned back to the fire. “I understand.”

She stood up, her heart pounding, and put her hand on his shoulder. “I can't because that is not a lie.”

“Deet..” He turned to her and gently laid his hands on her face, looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time. “It's not a lie from me either.”

He kissed her and she stumbled backward a few steps. Her heart felt like it could burst. She could hardly believe what was happening. She threw her arms around him and kissed him back.

“Deet,” he whispered, drawing back for a breath. “Promise me we're not pretending anymore. Promise me that all you say is true.”

“It's true,” she said breathlessly. “I promise. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They stumbled backward together onto the sofa. She held onto him tight, like he was a dream that would disappear in the morning. He said he loved her and she felt it in her heart that this was true, but she also knew the wine and the pressure of the night could have played with their minds. If not for that, would she have taken her first bold step? Would he have answered her confession with one of his own? Is there any point in wondering now that they were together?

At some point, they lost their balance and came crashing to the floor, bringing the cushions down with them. She was so light with joy, she could do nothing but laugh. When she looked over, she saw him laughing too. She loved everything about his laugh, from the sound, to the sparkle in his eye, to the wrinkle in his nose. She could see why Mira would be cross with him if he stopped forever.

But then his laughter died and she followed his eyes to something glimmering on the floor.

It was a bracelet made from iridescent blue beads. Carefully, he picked it up and ran his fingers gently along the stones, staring at it with a haunted look in his eye.

“What is that?” Deet asked.

“This is Mira’s” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper. “She was looking for this. She thought it’d fallen off on the landstrider ride back to the castle.”

Deet reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Mira would always be a shadow over Rian’s life. She knew that he never fully be over her. She didn't expect him to, not after losing her so horribly.

Rian let out a breath and his haunted eyes turned to her. “I- I'm sorry… this doesn't… I still meant everything I said.”

“You miss her,” she said, matter-of-fact. It was the truth. It was how he felt. There was no need to deny it.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“What for?”

“I love you, I do, but…”

“But you're still grieving her,” she finished for him. “You lost someone you loved. You're allowed to miss her.”

He shook his head like he didn’t deserve her words. “You're too kind. I mean it. You're too understanding. You deserve someone who can give you all their heart.”

His words struck her like a bolt and she could feel her heart begin to sink. “Oh…” Maybe we were still just pretending after all.

He saw the sadness on her face and jumped up in a panic. “Not that I don't. I mean… I just… it's complicated.”

“I know…”

He gently took her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “I love you,” he promised, his sincerity clear in his voice. “I want you to know that wasn't a lie. I don't want to waste what this night could be.”

“Do you truly want to go on?” she asked, keeping her hands in her lap. “Is that what you really feel in your heart?”

He looked away and she watched him struggle in his heart. After a moment, he shut his eyes and shook his head. “I'm just not ready,” he said, letting his hands slide from her shoulders, “not yet.”

“You don't have to be ready.”

His eyes fell on the bracelet once again. “What if we don't get another chance?”

She slipped her hand into his. “What if we do?”

A shy smile broke through. He pushed back her hair and kissed her temple. “One day,” he promised in her ear.

They spent the rest of the evening curled up next to each other, watching the fire crackle and finishing the bottle of wine. It was comfortable and cozy. She felt at home here, not necessarily in Stone-in-the-Wood, but in his arms. He held her close and she nestled into him. Occasionally they stole a light kiss on the hand or cheek.

There was an understanding between them. They loved each other, that much was true, but Rian needed more time. After everything he'd been through, that was to be expected. But he promised her one day, and he was not sort of gelfling to make empty promises. One day his grief will fade into remembrance, the turmoil will pass, and they will be together in every way to gefling in love can.

When sleep began to hover over them, they cleaned up and went to bed. Rian invited her to share his. Neither of them wanted to be alone. This night was particularly treacherous and their bodies provided the warmth and comfort they both craved. They didn't make love that night, but now Deet longed for the day they would. She was confident that promised day would come. With him, she was sure it would be wonderful. And to think, not long ago, the idea of kissing him it seemed impossible.

Deet woke in the night to see Rian sleeping soundly next to her. She smiled. She liked seeing him like this, calm and peaceful. One day, she promised in her heart, you won't have to live your life on the run. You'll be safe and free of fear. And you'll be happy.

She reached out to brush his bangs off with his face, but she saw thin, purple line glow in the dark. She drew back her hand and the glow moved with it. It was her. The glow was inside her veins.

Before she could think on this further, Rian shifted. His eyes fluttered open. “Deet,” he said, his voice heavy with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Go back to sleep,” she whispered. “The suns haven't risen yet.”

“You need to sleep too,” he muttered. “We'll need all our strength tomorrow.”

“Of course, I was just about to.”

A lazy smile spread on his lips. He left her kiss on her nose and drifted back off.

She rolled over and settled back down into her pillow, keeping her hands tucked close to her body. Sleep took her as she hid her worry away in the back of her mind.

The next morning, she woke to the sunlight pouring in from the window. She could feel his arm around her waist, holding her, protecting her. She looked down at her own hands. She didn't see a purple glow from the night before, but she could still feel something stirring deep inside her.

“Are you awake?” he asked.

She rolled over to face him. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” He smiled at her, brighter than all three suns. But his face took on the look of a soldier as he remembered what this morning meant. “We should get going. There's a lot to do.”

What if we don't? She thought. What if we stayed here and time stopped? And this moment could last forever?

She nodded. His arm slipped from her waist and he got out of bed, taking the warmth of his body with him.

But throughout the day, just like always, everything about him, the touch of his hands, the warmth of his smile, the sweetness of his kiss… lingered.

#all I ask of you #stonegrot #deet #rian #the dark crystal: age of resistance #the dark crystal: aor #aor #the dark crystal fanfic #the dark crystal: age of resistance fanfic #stonegrot fanfic #stonegrot fanfiction #deet x rian #sweetiepie writes #sweetiepie fanfic #sweetiepiewrites #sweetiepiefanfic #sweetiepie08 #sweetiepie08 fanfiction #all I ask of you chapter 4

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