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flightlessangelwings · 4 years ago

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Save You

Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: hurt/comfort, injury, blood, mild canon-typical violence, protective!Din, blindfolds, feelingssssss, my love of Pedro Pascal’s nose really shines through here

It was nothing new for you to follow the Mandalorian headfirst into danger. It was part of life as his partner, and though you had many scars and bruises from your chosen life, you had no complaints. You grew to care greatly for the bounty hunter and when the little green child joined, you quickly became attached to him as well. And you knew that Mando did too, though he was more reserved with his emotions and feelings.

He protected both you and the child, and he taught you how to better defend yourself as well. That way you could take care of yourself should anything happen. Mando wanted you to become more capable, especially now, since the child was around. You liked that he had that much respect for you to treat you as an equal, and you gladly accepted the risks of life with him.

You and the Mandalorian found yourself in a damp, dark planet on the trail of another bounty. He led the way through a series of tunnels of what looked like an old mine. You stayed close behind him with the child securely strapped to your chest for safety. You had your blaster ready in your head should anything jump out from around the corner, but so far the only movement was from you and Mando.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you whispered as you listened to the steady beep of the tracking fob in Mando’s hand.

“Just stay close,” was all he offered in reply. Truthfully, he wasn’t completely confident either, but he didn’t want to alarm you. Ever since you and the child entered his life, his number one priority was to keep you both safe.

Just as you were about to say something, the tracking fob grew louder and the beeps became more rapid; you were close. Mando nodded to you and you raised your weapon as you stayed at his side. The tunnel was dark, but the light in his hand illuminated the way. You vaguely wondered who would hide down here where it was so dark and dusty. But then again, it provided the perfect cover for someone who didn’t want to be found.

The tunnel seemed to come to an end, and although the fob beeped wildly, there was no sign of anyone else around. You met Mando’s gaze for a moment before you both looked around to investigate. You were in a mostly empty space. It was clear that the crew who had been in this cave had quickly left their digging. The area was littered with abandoned tools and boxes, but there wasn’t a soul around.

You stepped towards a larger box that had material piled on top to get a better look when you noticed something odd. There seemed to be a small light at the top of the pile, and it looked like it had been placed there more recently. Something was off, and the Mandalorian sensed that as well. The child cooed inquisitively and you gently pat his head to keep him quiet.

“Hey Mando…” your voice was muted to not draw attention in case anyone lurked in the shadows.

He stepped up closer to you for a better look at what caught your attention. He cocked his head to the side but said nothing as he watched you reach out to investigate. Carefully, you poked at the source of the little light, but the moment your hand grazed the material the two of you froze as you both realized what it was.

It was a bomb. This was a trap.

Mando reacted quickly as he grabbed your hand and yanked you back. “Run.” The urgency in his voice was clear as he moved with haste to get you and the child out of danger.

Everything happened in a blur. You and Mando started to run, but you didn’t get too far before the explosive went off. There was enough space so you were not in direct line of fire, but it wasn’t far enough that you wouldn’t be severely hurt. The cavern lit up around you before you heard the explosion and by the time you turned around, it was too late.

But the Mandalorian was faster, and without a second thought, he jumped in front of you to shield you and the child from the brunt of the explosion. You ducked your head down and wrapped your arms around the child to try to protect him as best you could. Despite your best attempt, you were knocked off your feet from the force of the blast.

Luckily for you all, it was not a particularly strong detonator. However, you were still close enough for it to do some damage. You hit the ground with a loud grunt, and you had enough forethought to land yourself on your side to not hurt the child. He cried out, but was completely unhurt. Mando landed right next to you with a harder thunk, and you knew right away that was not a good sign. He laid on his back, and you saw that his chest barely moved.

“Din? Din!” In your panic you used his real name as you crawled over to him and shook his shoulder. You heard a soft groan through his modulator, but he stayed still.

A rustle of movement caught your attention, and you acted on instinct and shot the intruder without hesitation. In the low light, you vaguely made out the features of the bounty you both had been after, but that was the last thing on your mind right now.

With a heavy exhale, you lowered your blaster and looked down to check on the child. With a sigh of relief that he was ok, you pat the top of his head. “I need your help, little guy,” you choked back tears as you knew you had to be fast. “We need to get him back to the ship and I can’t carry him by myself.”

The child looked up at you with his big eyes and blinked once before he turned to look down at his father-figure. He seemed to understand and he lifted his little hand and closed his eyes on concentration. You watched with bated breath as Din’s body slowly rose up from the ground. Once he was more upright, you wrapped one arm around his waist and positioned one of his arms over your shoulders. Together, you and the child managed to get the Mandalorian back to the ship.

Luckily, the quarry seemed to be alone, and you didn’t encounter anyone else on the agonizing trek back to the Crest. You locked up the cargo bay behind you and carefully set Din down on the floor against the back wall in the main hull. The child slumped back against your body in exhaustion as you unfastened him from your chest and set him down in his pram.

“You ok?” you asked the child in a soft voice as you caressed his face. When he cooed at you, you smiled down at him. “Thanks for your help. I’ll take care of him. I promise.” You tried to hide the fear in your voice for the baby’s sake.

He seemed content with your words and slumped back into the pram and watched quietly as you hurried back to Din. You rummaged through your things until you found the med kit. You rushed back and sat down at his side as you checked over his injuries. Thankfully, the beskar seemed to shield his body well enough for the most part, but because you were so close to the detonator, some shrapnel got lodged underneath.

With trembling hands, you took off Din’s armor piece by piece and pushed the shredded fabric to the side to work on healing his injuries. Blood soaked his clothing, and you fought to keep your breathing steady while you worked. Din leaned back against the wall and watched you work through his visor. The helmet hid the fond expression he wore though half lidded eyes as you frantically raced against time to help him.

Your own hands stained red with his blood, but you didn’t care. You just kept whispering to him as you kept your eyes trained on the wounds.

“Hang on, Din.”

“You’re going to be alright.”

“I can’t lose you… Please…”

“Just one more bacta patch should do it.”

With a heavy sigh, you finally sat back and took in his slumped over form in front of you. Din barely moved since you set him down, and though you managed to close most of his wounds, you could tell his breathing still was labored. Fear ran through your veins as you noticed that blood dripped down his neck and realized there must be an injury underneath his helmet as well. Your hands rested on his chest as tears formed in your eyes.

Din must have read your thoughts, because he slowly rested his hands over yours and whispered your name in a weak voice.

“I know, I know,” you couldn’t hide the way your voice trembled. You looked around the hull as you tried to come up with a plan. As much as you couldn’t lose the man in front of you, you also knew how important his creed was to him and you would never ask him to break it. “There has to be a way…”

Din took in a breath to say something, but you unknowingly cut him off with an exclamation. His hand twitched on top of yours as he slightly tilted his head to the side in a questioning glance. “What is it?”

You met his visor with a newfound fire in your eyes, “I have an idea. But I need you to trust me.”

His grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, “I trust you,” he said your name and you could feel the confidence in his voice, however weak it was.

With a nod, you broke away from him and reached out for a piece of medical wrap from the med kit. From the far corner of the room, the child cooed inquisitively; he had watched you from his pram the entire time, but was too tired from using his powers to be of much help. You looked over and met his gaze before you crossed the space to address him.

“I need you to keep this on, buddy. Ok?” You spoke in a soft voice as you tore off a smaller piece of cloth and hovered it over his eyes. You dropped it for a moment to give him your pinky instead. The child seemed to understand and he reached out and wrapped his little hand around your finger as he cooed softly in response. You gave him a smile as you tied the fabric securely around his eyes. “I’m trusting you here.”

The child started to reach up but he didn’t touch the fabric around his eyes. You watched him for a moment, and only when you were satisfied that he wouldn’t remove the cloth did you turn back to Din. You settled in front of him again as you secured your own makeshift blindfold. The Mandalorian watched with bated breath as he realized what your plan was. He made no attempt to move as you slowly reached out for his helmet once you took away your sight.

You held your breath as you rested your hands on either side of his helmet, “Din,” your voice was barely audible as you waited for him to make the final call. A gasp escaped your throat when you felt his own hands over yours again and together you slowly lifted his helmet off.

There was a tense silence in the room as Din took a deep breath of fresh air for the first time. You let go of the helmet and brought your hands back to yourself as you waited for him to set it down. When you heard the soft thud, you broke the silence, “I’m going to need you to guide my hands.”

Din let out a heavy breath of his own, “Alright,” he didn’t trust himself to say anything more, and the sound of his raw voice took you both by surprise.

Carefully, Din took your hands in his own as he led them to the med kit. Slowly, the two of you worked together to set bacta on the wounds that bled at the back of his head. You knew your lips trembled, and you figured he noticed, but he never said anything. Din hissed in pain when you put some bacta cream on the back of his head, and you whispered a soft apology in response.

When Din was sure there was enough to cover the last injury, he let go of your hands. But, instead of letting go, your hands lingered against him. You couldn’t resist the temptation, and you still had adrenaline pulsing through your system, so you ran your hands through his hair. It was damp from sweat and blood, but it was still surprisingly soft. You were careful and tender with your movements. You kept your touch light so you wouldn’t hurt him and he could lift your hand away if he wanted to.

But Din found that he didn’t want to, and he let you run your hands through his hair a few times. He sighed softly as your hands came to the front of his face and you brushed a lock of his hair off his forehead. Your fingertips traced over his face as if you tried to figure out what he looked like from touch. Din closed his eyes as you cupped his jaw with one hand while the other trailed down his nose.

You couldn’t help but smile at the feel of his skin under your hands. And though you didn’t voice it out loud, you were already fond of the shape of his nose. The hand that roamed over his face came to rest on the side of his jaw as you cupped Din’s head in your hands. You bit your lip as you tranced your thumb across his cheek, and you didn’t even realize how close your finger came to his lips until you felt his breath against your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped suddenly as you started to pull your hands away, “That was overstepping. I….”

Just as you started to move your hands away, Din reached out and grabbed onto you gently. Your mouth fell open as a small gasp escaped your lips, and you tensed when you felt him place your hands back on his face.

“You didn’t overstep,” his voice was soft, and you felt his breath on your hands.

Din rested one hand over yours to keep you in place while he reached out for you with the other. His hand cupped your chin, which startled you. He was just as slow and careful with his movements as he brought you in close to his body. You fumbled, more clumsy without your sight, but you settled yourself in his lap as you faced him and you froze when you realized how intimate the position was.

The child, who stayed quiet the entire time, perked his ears up and cooed softly. He seemed to sense the growing tension in the room and he reached over and blindly searched for the button on the front of his pram. He slumped back to lay down as the top cover closed and gave you and Din more privacy. Din noticed the action out of the corner of his eyes, and he smiled slightly before he turned his attention back to you.

He felt you tremble in his grasp, and the nerves that radiated from your body were almost palpable. “It’s alright,” Din whispered as his lips hovered over yours.

“Din…” your voice was so hushed that he barely even heard you.

The Mandalorian’s eyes dropped down to your lips for a brief moment before he closed the gap between your bodies. The kiss was soft and light at first; he just tested the waters for now. But when you sighed and leaned into his touch, Din wrapped one of his arms around you and pulled you so that you were flush against him. You moaned into his mouth as you deepened the kiss. One of your hands stayed on his jaw while the other dropped down to clutch at his shoulder.

Din winced slightly at the touch, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt before you patched him up. Besides, he would rather feel a slight sting if it meant you stayed connected to him. Din wasn’t ready to let you go just yet, not when he finally felt your touch for the first time. It was a feeling unlike any other, and he was already addicted to you.

You smiled into the kiss as you felt the warmth and security from Din’s grasp. If you were honest with yourself, you wanted this for so long, but you kept your feelings buried. But now that you had it, you never wanted to let it go. You never wanted to let him go.

“Thank you.” Din finally spoke as he broke away just enough to breathe.

“For what?” you furrowed your brows.

“For saving my life,” you could hear the grin in his voice as his thumb brushed over your skin.

You leaned in for another kiss before you smiled against him and spoke in a hushed voice that held so much emotion, “Thank you for saving mine.” A muffled coo from the corner of the room called your attention and you let out a short laugh, “Our lives,” you corrected yourself.

Din smiled against your face and made sure you felt it, “Of course,” he kept his response short and left it unsaid that he would do anything to keep you and the child safe. You both meant more to him than anything in the galaxy and there wasn’t anything Din wouldn’t do for you both. But for now, he was content to be safe in the hull of the Crest with you both, and for him to feel you against his bare skin was more than he could ever have asked for.

Notes: I love me some good hurt/comfort with Din so much and this idea just came to me randomly and I had to write it! As always, taglists are open so let me know if you’d like to be added :) And let me know what you think of this one too!

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fic #mando x reader #mando #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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luxekook · 4 years ago

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okay, bloomer ❃ myg

❃ pairing: floral assistant/rapper!yoongi x reader

❃ genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, slight crack, light angst and smut

❃ summary: spin-off sequel to ‘petal to the metal’; in which the reader visits a flower shop on her way home from work to treat herself to a flower and then keeps returning just to interact with the shop’s cute tsundere floral assistant. the last thing she expects is to see him ~spitting hot fire~ and looking hot as sin at her friend’s music event. how is she supposed to get flowers in peace now?

❃ word count: 10.2k

❃ warnings: 18+, cursing, violent imagery, mansplaining, tattooed and pierced yoongi, jealousy, mention of drinking, lots of sass, yoongi is soft as hell, rapping, jungkook being an idiot, smut [biting, blindfolding, bondage, sensory play, oral (f + m receiving), unprotected sex (WRAP IT), slight dom/sub themes, yoongi and reader are swiches, dirty talk, workplace sex]

❃ beta’d by: the amazing and gorgeous phia @meowxyoong

❃ banner by: the iconic and beautiful danica @dee-ehn

❃ commissioned by: my angel bby sweetheart jess @floralsuga UWU ILY AND I HOPE U LOVE THIS YOONGI AS MUCH AS I DO!!!!

The first time you enter the flower shop, it’s on a whim after a particularly bad day at work. You stomp down the street towards your apartment stewing over how Darryl can go screw himself as far as you are concerned. You almost flipped your desk today after the fifth time he tried to explain your own job to you.

It’s like you haven’t been working at the graphic design firm for over three years and know all there is to know about typography and how it reads on book covers. You knew the moment your boss paired you with Darryl for this assignment, you were going to be in for a bumpy ride. You just didn’t expect the bumps to be of Mount Everest proportions.

You probably look crazy as you stalk down the block untethered in your rage, mumbling something about shoving your stylus so far up Darryl’s ass he’ll choke on your creativity.

Somehow you unconsciously turn your head to admire a display of flowers blooming in a shop window. The blooming bunches of color call to you like a beacon of light in the darkness. Fuck it, you are going to treat yourself.

You dart across the street, dodging traffic. You need a flower. You need something that will brighten your evening and remind you that there is still beauty on this earth after all that mansplaining. And it seems that Of Fern & Freesia Flower Co. will be your oasis of choice.

Squaring your shoulders, you push open the heavy wooden and glass door of the shop. The sound of a bell chimes in the air as you enter. A smile forms as you take in the array of greenery and petals surrounding you. The air smells like summer meadows and deep forests.

Wandering around, you realize that it’s going to be harder than you thought to pick just one flower to go home with. As you near the back of the shop, you notice the general shop counter with a cash register, a small jar, and an array of flowers scattered across the deep oak wood. It seems like someone is piecing together a bouquet.

“Can I help you?” A low, languid voice calls out to you. Slowly, a boy emerges from the back room. Your eyes widen at the sight before you. He’s of average height with lean muscle and tattoos winding up both arms. His ears glint with multiple piercings, his left eyebrow has an intimidating slice through it, and his hair is a messy array of silver with a sexy as hell undercut. Yet, despite all of that tough exterior, the second you look at his face you melt.

The boy has the cutest face you have ever seen. His cheeks are full and pink, his nose is the most adorable little button, his lips are a dusky shade of rose. He has the face of an angel wrapped in a sinful package. Honestly, it’s unfair.

After a few moments, you realize he seems to be waiting for you to speak. Slitted eyebrow arched, he stares at you, dark eyes flicking over your own body.

“I’m looking to get a flower, but I just don’t know which one to pick,” You sigh, eyes shifting to glance around the shop once more. “There are so many beautiful ones to choose from.”

“Well,” The boy murmurs, “Sometimes one beautiful flower just stands out from the rest.”

Your eyes return to him, finally noticing the name-tag haphazardly pinned to his apron. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. “And do you know which flower stands out today?” You ask, hands gripping your work tote so that you don’t do anything embarrassing like squish his chubby cheeks between your palms.

“Without a doubt,” He quirks a small smile in your direction before walking around the counter. Without a word more, he wanders down the rows of flowers and stops at a particular bunch of blue blossoms. He carefully selects one flower from the bunch and extends it out to you.

You accept the flower, examining it closely. It’s beautiful indeed. Shooting a glance at the sign attached to the bucket the flower had originated from, you smile as you read the label of ‘rare blue-tinted orchids’ (rare and unique beauty).

Turning back to Yoongi, you realize he has already begun to walk back to the counter. Quickly, you follow in his footsteps, carefully holding your flower in one hand and digging through your bag to find your wallet with the other. Upon reaching the counter, you gently place your orchid down to finally retrieve your wallet from where it had been lurking at the very bottom of your tote.

“How much do I owe you?” You look up at Yoongi who had been staring at you with a peculiar expression on his face.

He just shrugs, fiddling with one of the many silver rings adorning his fingers, “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

“What?” You tilt your head in confusion, “But the sign said these are rare, so I’m sure it can’t be cheap.”

Again, Yoongi just lifts a shoulder lazily and shoots you a half smile, “I get an employee discount.”

“Oh,” Your eyes fall under his intense scrutiny. They land on the small jar sitting next to the register. It’s labeled with a sticky note that says: “Feed Yoongi’s Dumpling Addiction”.

“Dumplings, huh?” You grin at the cute boy and quickly grab ten dollars from your wallet, shoving the bill inside the jar.

“Hey!” Yoongi pouts, “That’s not fair.” His cheeks are shaded a bright pink, “You can’t use my weakness against me like this.”

“I just did!” You laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder and picking up your orchid once more. “Bye, Yoongi.”

You send him a wave and head back out into the night. You don’t realize he had stared out after you for quite some time with a small smile and a gleam in his eye. No, you are too busy picturing what it would be like to go get dumplings with a cute flower shop assistant.

The next day at work you bring your flower along with you. Your desk needs some life breathed into it, and your flower does just the trick. Plus, you can't help but smile each time you look at it.

And so when cursed Darryl waltzes over to you to talk about your project, you kindly tell him to fuck off. You know, in a safe for work fashion. You don’t need his bullshit or his bad vibes. Not when you can draw up romance novel cover designs with a certain boy in mind. It comes as no surprise to you as you realize later on that you had been drawing orchids woven throughout the book title.

The rest of the week passes by slowly as does the wilting of your flower. Yet on Thursday, your boss praises you for your flower designs, so much so that she decides to give you the company credit card to go buy a bouquet for the office as further inspiration. You tell her you know just the place.

Taking an extended lunch break, you trek over to Of Fern & Freesia. Stepping through its doors brings an immediate smile to your face. You glance around, noticing a few other customers scattered throughout the shop. No sign of Yoongi.

You weave your way around the rows of flowers and the patrons that dot the aisles. A heavy feeling of disappointment settles in the pit of your stomach as you notice that there is a woman at the counter instead of the cute boy from a few days prior. The woman glances up as you approach, “Oh, hello! Welcome to Of Fern & Freesia. How may I help you?”

“Hi, yes,” You shoot a furtive glance around, “I was hoping that you could recommend a bouquet?”

“Hm,” She nods, “Of course! What’s the occasion?”

“It’s just for my office,” You explain, “We need some inspiration, and flowers seem to have helped lately.”

“I see,” She smiles, “Well, let me ask you if—”

“Hey, boss lady! Do you know what happened to the lace ribbons? I can’t find— Oh,” Yoongi halts as he emerges from the back room and lays eyes on you. “Hello,” He mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

The woman helping you looks at Yoongi and then looks back at you and then looks at Yoongi again. A sly smile forms on her lips, “Well, well, well. Why don’t I go look for those lace ribbons while you help this customer here.” She turns to you, “My very best employee will be sure to take excellent care of you.”

Chuckling slightly, she disappears through the door that Yoongi had vacated a minute before.

“I’m your only employee!” Yoongi calls after her, the small smile on his face betraying his complaint. Still grinning slightly, he turns his brown eyes back to you, “Hello again…” He pauses, clearly waiting for you to fill in the unspoken blank.

“(Y/n),” You extend a hand out tentatively, “And you’re Yoongi.”

“That I am,” Yoongi smirks and takes your hand in his. You glance down at your clasped hands and marvel at how his hand fully engulfs yours. The heat of his palm burns into you while the coolness of his many rings makes you shiver. Eventually, you let go, certain your cheeks are as red as the display of roses to your left.

“Well, what can I do for you, (y/n)? Back for another flower?” His eyes flit around the shop briefly before returning to yours.

“A bouquet, actually,” You smile, “For the office. On the office.” You flash the company card that your boss had given you, and your stomach flips as he laughs – his dark eyes crinkling and his gums showing adorably.

“Didn’t picture you working in an office,” He mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as his tongue pokes his cheek.

“Oh, so you’ve been picturing me, then?” You tease and internally sigh as he blushes fiercely, turning away from you.

“Yah, you know what I meant,” Yoongi scowls without any real menace, “You seem like you do something - I don't know - weird.”

You stare at him a moment and then burst into laughter. Yoongi pouts as you continue to crack up over his brazen observation. “I mean I guess designing romance novel covers isn’t the most conventional job, but it pays the bills and it’s pretty fun.”

“Romance novels?” Yoongi widens his eyes comically, “Don’t say that around the boss lady, she’s obsessed with them.”

“I heard that,” A yell sounds from the back room, “And I’m demoting you!”

“I’m demoted just by being associated with you!” Yoongi calls back.

You think you hear his boss mutter something about shoving a branch of redbud (betrayal) up Yoongi’s ass but you can’t be sure. Yoongi walks around the counter to lead you around the shop.

“What are you looking for, (y/n)?” His gaze is heated as it rests on you, and you bask in its glory.

“I’m good with whatever you recommend,” You shrug, “I’m in your hands.”

“Not yet,” Yoongi mutters under his breath; and before you can question that remark, he stalks off down an aisle, practically mowing down innocent shoppers. You trail after him, watching as he seems to be picking flowers at random. However, once he brings them all up front to arrange them, the flowers combine effortlessly into a beautiful bouquet.

“Wow,” You say softly, admiring the colorful arrangement before you, “This is beautiful, Yoongi. What kind of flowers are they?”

Yoongi rapidly fires off a number of flowers, most of which you had never even heard of before: honeysuckle and alstroemeria flowers (devotion), lilies of the valley (return of happiness), and petunias (your presence soothes me).

As you hand him the company card to ring up your purchase, you notice a stray flower set aside from the bunch. “That one didn’t fit with the rest?” You joke, pointing to the multi-petaled pink flower.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Obviously not, (y/n). That one is for you.”

You let out an embarrassingly high-pitched giggle, “Well, excuse me for not being an expert, flower boy.”

He groans at the nickname, shaking his head in disgust. But, you see his lips twitching. God, he is so cute. You almost don’t even know how you had been intimidated by him at first. Even his tattoos and piercings are endearing to you now. You see them as a layer of protection he has in order to protect his soft heart.

Yeah, you are fucking whipped.

In an attempt to distract yourself from your growing infatuation, you glance down. The tip jar catches your attention, and you grin immediately as you read today’s inscription: “Yoongi’s Nap Fund: One Dollar = One Nap”.

“Don’t even think about it,” Yoongi warns, but it’s too late. You shove another ten dollar bill inside.

“Goddamn you,” Yoongi sighs, and the way he says it sounds like a confession. And you are so losing your marbles. And your job. You catch sight of the clock hanging on the back wall, and you are so, so late to get back to the office.

Cursing softly, you grab the bouquet and accept the flower Yoongi extends out to you, “Thanks, flower boy. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

With that, you rush out the door, pulling a full Yoongi as you ruthlessly storm past customers on your way out. You unknowingly leave Yoongi in your dust, staring at you with what can only be affection.

When you get home after your shift later that night, you quickly put your new flower in a mason jar with water and admire its beauty. After a quick google search, you identify the flower as a camellia.

You fail to read further. But, if you had, you would have discovered the meaning of the flower Yoongi had gifted to you… My destiny is in your hands.

The next few weeks pass in a flurry of flowers - each prettier than the last. But that could just be the rose-tinted glasses you’ve been walking around with ever since you met Yoongi. You had visited Of Fern & Freesia such an embarrassing amount of times that you figured you should have a frequent flyer card.

But, who in their right mind could blame you when men like Min Yoongi exist? That’s right, you are on a full name basis now courtesy of one of Yoongi’s latest tip jars: “Support Min Yoongi in purchasing an off button for Jeon Jungkook”.

With every visit came a new flower and a new post-it note on his tip jar. For instance, last Monday Yoongi gave you two stock flowers (you will always be beautiful to me), to which you immediately clowned him on for buying you stocks. He had just shaken his head at you - a common reaction from Yoongi that you had been on the receiving end of too many times to count. On that day, you had shoved a twenty dollar bill in the jar labeled: “New headphones for Yoongi’s silent, sad and lonely ears”.

This Tuesday you had arrived at the shop right at closing. Your job had required you to stay for a late meeting because Darryl had fucked something up with his latest project. It’s honestly a wonder how he hasn’t been fired yet. After the meeting ended, you had practically run out of the office to make it to see Yoongi in time. When you stepped into the shop, you had been greeted with a growly yell of “We’re closed! Get lost!” And then when Yoongi came storming towards the front, he’d skittered to a halt, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words.

You had just shyly waved like an idiot and then had turned to leave, only to be tugged back inside by Yoongi. “Come on,” He had said lowly, seeming quite exasperated with you, “I have your fix.” He had held your wrist all the way up to the counter as you blushed profusely behind him. He had handed you a zinnia (I mourn your absence), and you had added a couple five dollar bills to his jar simply entitled: “Do it. You won’t.”

And, finally, yesterday you had made sure to visit on time, clocking out of work at 5:00PM exactly. Your boss had even asked if you had a hot date. God, you had fucking wished. In all your hurry to get over to Of Fern & Freesia, you had forgotten one important piece of information that had been made crystal clear the moment Yoongi had locked eyes on you - you needed to do laundry.

Now, this might seem like an odd and offhand comment, but it meant that you had been wearing your more formal work clothes out of necessity. A form fitting pencil skirt with a tucked in button up blouse - both of which were on the tighter side from not being worn enough - paired with your favorite stilettoed ankle boots had been your outfit of choice and your last resort.

You had clicked and clacked your way up to the counter and had almost turned right back around at the look Yoongi had given you. His eyes had been the darkest you’d ever seen. You hadn’t quite been able to read the storm of emotions within them. Had it been anger? Annoyance? Attraction?

God, you had prayed it was the last.

When you had made it to Yoongi, he had let out a harsh breath before turning away from you for a moment. “Hey, flower boy,” You had said tentatively, “Are you okay?”

“I’m just peachy,” He had muttered, slamming down a few flowers on the counter.

“O-o-okay,” You had responded, drawing out the word. You had stared quizzically at Yoongi as he fiddled with his rings, looking more on edge than you had ever seen him before. His eyes had flicked over your body, and then finally he had met your eyes.

“Sorry,” He had grumbled out, “You just caught me off guard. These are for you.”

As Yoongi had gathered the flowers he had slammed down on the counter, you had realized you still had your hair up and fastened with your stylus. Tugging it out of your hair, you had tousled your hair with your fingers for a bit and then had shoved the stylus in your bag. You had thought you had heard Yoongi choke slightly, but your ears surely had been playing tricks on you.

You had grinned at him as you grabbed the flowers from his outstretched hands and then tucked a twenty in his tip jar inscripted with: “Help Yoongi endure Kim Seokjin’s presence for three hours.”

Later that night, you had realized that you really should have brushed up on your flower knowledge sooner because apparently the flowers he had given you were peach blossoms (I am your captive). While their meaning is still unbeknownst to you, you now appreciate the pun wholeheartedly.

You had even tried to see him tonight, but he hadn’t been working for some reason. It’s hard not to assume the worst. Is he on a date? Oh god, has he had a girlfriend this whole time? A boyfriend? A partner? You almost call up your friend Jackson to cancel on his music event because all you want to do is sit down on your couch with the two men who will never let you down - Ben and Jerry.

But, you can't.

Jackson would hunt you down and drag you there himself if he had to. He had done that very thing when you tried to bail on his last party. It hadn’t been your fault that you considered a midweek celebration of his five point increase on his credit score to be extra as hell. But that is just Jackson, and you adore him for it.

You met Jackson through your job. He sometimes models for the book covers that your company produces; because, let’s be real, Jackson is a whole snack. Unfortunately, you seem to be attracted to boys on the surlier side as opposed to those on the sunshine side of the spectrum.

Therefore, you and Jackson are great friends, and he brings out (READ: forces out) your more social side. Tonight, he is MCing a local music show at one of the bars downtown. It’s apparently some sort of open mic night. You just hope your ears are all in one piece when you return home.

The bar is crowded as hell as you slip through its doors. The entire back area has been converted into a stage, and you notice Jackson getting ready to begin MCing. Of course, he spots you immediately, waving incessantly. You can’t help but smile back widely and wave.

Squeezing your way through the crowd, you luckily spy a free barstool with a decent view of the stage. Quickly claiming it as yours, you order a beer and settle in for the night. Your eyes drift across the crowd, seeing some familiar faces of musicians you had seen before at events like this.

You even think you see the woman from Of Fern & Freesia in the back corner, but that’s probably just your brain playing tricks on you. Your attention is brought back to the stage as Jackson begins to announce the general lineup for the night and then the first performer.

As you listen to the first performance, your heart aches. The musician’s ballad is slow and soulful, its lyrics deep and jarring. What you wouldn't give to feel a love like that, too feel so deeply for another person and to have that returned unconditionally. Again, your mind turns to the damned flower boy who has been ruling your thoughts lately. And as the song ends, you clap along with the crowd like you hadn’t just planned out your entire future with a boy you had met just a handful of times.

You watch as Jackson introduces the next performance - some group called ‘Bangtan’ featuring some dude named ‘Suga’. What kind of name is that? A stage name, you hope.

Five boys jump onto the stage, and the crowd goes fucking wild. As you assess the boys with your own two eyes, you see the hype. They’re hot as fuck.

Their performance begins with two of the boys singing. Your eyebrows raise as their sweet voices grace your ears. You almost fall into a sense of security as their vocals envelop you. And then the rapping begins.

Your jaw drops all the way down to the pits of Hades as you take in the sight of what can only be Yoongi, your sweet fucking flower boy, spitting crazy hot fire alongside two other beautiful boys. Had you somehow eaten an edible unknowingly on your way over here? Have you teleported into an alternate universe? Have you travelled into another dimension? Have you fallen into the fucking upside down?

God, he looks so fine. In all the times in the flower shop, you had only seen him in plain t-shirts, black jeans, and an apron. Therefore, your mind is fucking blown at the way Yoongi is wearing the shit out of a long white t-shirt, ripped blue jeans, a white and silver jacket, and silver chains.

The boy is sauntering around the stage like he fucking owns it, all cocky and brash. Your attention is riveted by the sheer talent before you, but your sanity is in shambles. He drags a hand through his messy hair and his undercut peeks out from underneath. Damn, that hairstyle suits him well.

It seems the performance is over both too soon and not soon enough. And when Yoongi stays on stage all by himself, you silently pray to any higher power out there that you survive this. The low sound of the bass fills the bar as Yoongi lazily nods to the opening beats of whatever he plans on performing.

Almost by fate, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours. They widen as they take you in, and you are absolutely certain you also resemble an owl as you stare back. Like the dork that you are, you lift your beer up in a silent toast to him, and your stomach flips as his lips quirk.

And then he starts. You cannot look away. Somehow Yoongi rapping solo is just as good as the previous performance with the four others. It might even be better; but, then again, you are insanely biased at this point.

As he performs, you lose the ability to speak, to cheer alongside the crowd. The way Yoongi commands the stage with his words, his presence, his talent is quite possibly the sexiest thing you have ever seen. The looks he sends you definitely don’t help. You might actually melt into a puddle on this very floor.

And you nearly do as Yoongi’s song ends and he sends you a wink as he hops off stage. God, you need to get it together before you track the boy down, tug him to you by his silver chains, and kiss the hell out of him and his talented mouth.

Yeah, you need to leave ASAP. Shooting Jackson a text, you leave a twenty on the bar and haul ass out of there.

How are you supposed to face Yoongi after this? You can’t even pretend it didn’t happen because he had seen you. If you don’t go back to the shop, he might think you hated his performance. But, if you do go back to the shop, you’ll have to face the boy who had destroyed your ovaries on stage in front of multiple dozens of people.

Lord, you are so fucking screwed.

Saturday and Sunday pass with many more existential breakdowns; and by the time Monday arrives, you decide that - fuck it - you are going to do some recon.

You email your boss that you are running a bit late and head over to the flower shop. It is barely 9:00AM when you strut through the doors.

The woman you had seen once before startles as you burst in, “Oh hey, it’s you! Um, Yoongi doesn’t work until later.”

You swear you turn fifty shades of maroon, “I-I know.”

She also blushes, “Right, sorry. I haven’t had my coffee yet. How can I help you? Another bouquet?”

Before you can answer her, a boy bounds through the door holding two steaming coffee cups. He looks eerily familiar, but you can't quite place where you have seen him before.

“Morning, noona!” The boy beams at the woman, and then belatedly realizes you are also there. “Aish, sorry!” You gape as he somehow becomes small, huddling by his ‘noona’. “I didn’t realize you had a customer already.”

“That’s alright, Jungkookie,” She smiles at the admittedly cute boy who is now scrutinizing you for some reason.

“Aha!” Jungkook snaps his fingers, “I know you! You’re Yoongi-hyung’s g—”

The woman grabs Jungkook’s ear before he can continue, “Ignore him. Please.” She shoots the boy a dark look that sends him pouting.

You try your best, but the words are already flying through your mind. Yoongi-hyung’s girl? His girl insert-space-here friend? His gremlin? His goddess divine? His fucking Go-Gurt?

The possibilities are too endless; and so you pull a Spongebob and burn the memory from your brain for the sake of your rationality. You quickly grab the first flower you see - a love-in-a-mist (perplexity) - and pay for it before jetting out the door.

Your feelings? Unstable.

Your recon mission? Unsuccessful.

Your inevitable face-off with Yoongi? Unavoidable.

“I heard you came by yesterday morning.”

You nearly jump out of your skin, barely having crossed the threshold of the flower shop before Yoongi slides right in front of you. “Holy sweet mother of god, Yoongi! Have you been lurking by the door just to scare me like this?”

Yoongi’s gaze darts around, decidedly not looking at you. “No?” He tries. You don’t let him succeed.

“Oh, really...” You arch an eyebrow and try to step around him, but Yoongi just matches your movements - effectively blocking you from advancing further.

“Stop trying to distract me,” He growls. His frown is admittedly cute instead of intimidating in the way he probably intends. “Why did you visit yesterday morning instead of last night?”

It’s your turn to avoid eye contact as you look for any possible avenue for escape. Yoongi gives you no room to budge or even any time to answer as he continues to question you. “Could it be…” He leans closer to you, “That you didn’t like what you saw on Friday?”

Your heart stutters in your chest as Yoongi grows closer still, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, “Or maybe… it’s that you did like it.”

Before you risk it all and pounce on him while he’s working, you pull a spin move around Yoongi that would even make Lebron proud. Trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, you power-walk away from him, calling over your shoulder, “Yes, I liked it, okay? God.”

You weave your way between the shelves of flowers with Yoongi trailing your every move. That little shit is relentless in his pursuit. You shoot him an evil eye between two buckets of flowers that he steadfastly ignores, “What did you like about it?” Yoongi grins widely, “Come on, tell me. Tell me. Just tell me, tell me, tell m—” You round the aisle he is on and clamp a hand over his mouth.

“Min Yoongi, for the love of reese’s peanut butter cups, shut your mouth.” Your glare strengthens as you can just tell he’s smirking underneath your hand. It’s difficult to ignore the plushness of his lips pressed against your palm. Did he just lick his lips? With your palm over them?

“I liked the collaboration you did with Jungkook and the other boys,” You shoot back at him, desperate to take him down a peg, “It was cute.” With a victorious smile at his darkening expression, you tug your hand away and turn to walk away. But déjà vu strikes as Yoongi’s hand envelops your wrist.

He pulls you back into his chest as he leans down. You can feel his words flow from his chest as he murmurs, “Oh really? And did you know that Jungkook is happily in a relationship? What a bummer.”

“Uh, I don’t recall asking,” You retort, “But that’s great for Jungkook. Should I send him a card in congratulations?”

“Fuck, you are so frustrating,” Yoongi groans and lets out an exasperated laugh, “Are you really going to make me ask?”

“Undoubtedly,” You grin like the menace you are.

Sighing, Yoongi presses closer to you. “(Y/n),” His lips brush against your ear, “What did you like about me?”

The way that Yoongi’s scent wraps around you, the way his lips move against your skin, the way his words drip with sensual intent makes you cave almost immediately. “Well, you had some fire bars, bro,” You blurt out.

He stills for a second and then a laugh bubbles up from his chest. You pout as he doubles over, clutching his stomach.

“Hey,” You complain, “I thought that’s what all the youngsters are calling it these days.”

Yoongi laughs harder, “Oh my god, please stop. I’m going to break a rib from laughing too hard.”

You sniff, “Well, consider that the first and last compliment you will get from me. Ever.”

That shuts him up real quick. “Aw, babe,” He whines, following you as you move towards the counter in the back of the shop. Thank god there are no other customers to witness your complete degeneration into Min Yoongi Trash™.

You slouch against the counter as you reach it, turning to face him. “Don’t ‘aw, babe’ me, babe. Now, get me my flower.”

Your sass does nothing but bring a smile to Yoongi’s face, and your frown deepens.

“I know just the thing,” He smirks.

You don’t trust it. At all.

Yoongi goes behind the counter and grabs a little potted flower from behind the register. He pushes it over to your side slowly. “It’s a potato vine flower (you are delicious),” He says, like that explains everything. “It reminds me of you.”

You gape at the admittedly pretty triad of flowers intertwined together in the small silver pot. “A flower with potato in its name reminds you of me?” Your eyes narrow down into slits as you stare at him.

“Those are the words that came out of my mouth, yes.” His lips quirk at your growing ire.

“Hmph,” You turn up your nose, “Well, I will take it as a compliment. Potatoes are great, versatile, and goddamn tasty.”

“Indeed,” Yoongi smiles, running a hand through his hair. The rings adorning his fingers glisten under the shop’s lights, and you cannot help but follow his hands as they once again return to his sides.

You can feel your face warming as indecent thoughts of his hands on you fly through your brain. As your gaze remains lowered, it falls upon the tip jar. Today, it reads: “Help Yoongi fulfill his dream… of doing absolutely nothing”.

Before Yoongi can stop you, you shove a twenty into the jar. “Thanks for the potato plant, Yoongi,” You try to hide your smile as he - as predicted - gets into a huff over your incorrect identification.

“It’s a potato vine flower!” He yells after you as you walk away, “You know that, right? It’s important to me that you know that!”

“Po-tay-to, po-tat-oh,” You call back to him, laughing as you ignore his groan of protest. Provoking Yoongi might just become your new favorite hobby.

Work consumes your next few days and prevents you from visiting your lovely little flower boy. Obviously, that has contributed to your mood taking a turn for the worse. But, it’s also done a steep nosedive because fucking Darryl is back at it again with his misogyny. You really shouldn't be surprised at this point, but here you are, surrounded by cleaning supplies, one concerned model, and one indifferent photographer.

Your joint project is culminating tomorrow - book cover proposal for one of the industry’s top romance authors. The one job, the one fucking job, you had given Darryl was to buy props. And guess what Darryl had gotten? Fucking mops.

“I thought you just wanted to clean or some shit,” He had said and then had the nerve to shrug.

Oh, you are going to clean alright. Clean him right out of his office, you will. Using him as the broom you personally sweep the floor with.

Now, your cover model Jinyoung is here, and there is nothing to make this shoot interesting. Jinyoung, one of Jackson’s close friends and fellow model, awkwardly tries to comfort you as you stew in your rage in the corner of the studio.

“What are we going to do?” You cry for the tenth time, getting ready to either burst into tears or to burn the building to the ground. At least Darryl had made himself scarce ever since you tore into his ass for a solid fifteen minutes. Honestly, that had been the highlight of your day.

“Are there any props around here?” Jinyoung suggests. You look around the studio only to find the photographer Mina scrolling through her phone and an assortment of lighting fixtures against the white backdrop. Suddenly, your gaze snaps back to Mina - more specifically to her floral patterned shirt.

“Come with me,” You grab Jinyoung’s hand and tug him out the door, “Mina, I’ll be back in ten!”

The photographer sends a thumbs up, and you and Jinyoung are on your way. “Where are we going?” He chuckles as you keep tugging him along out of the building and down the street.

“We are going to improvise,” You grit out as you stomp towards your destination, hand still grasping Jinyoung’s tightly. Finally, you arrive at Of Fern and Freesia. “We’re getting flowers,” You declare and enter the shop with Jinyoung in tow.

“Alright then,” He mutters, probably thinking that he doesn't get paid enough for this. And honestly neither do you - especially when you lock eyes with Min Yoongi and his face looks like thunder. You become hyper-aware that you are still clutching onto Jinyoung as Yoongi’s eyes fall to focus on your clasped hands. His jaw tightens.

And then his expression clears like nothing had even happened.

Your heart beats fast in your chest as you watch as Yoongi turns and walks into the back room of the shop without a backwards glance.

Had that been a display of jealousy just now? It could not have been. Nope.

You shove this whole thing aside. You aren’t Yoongi’s anything. Just like he isn’t yours.

You clasp Jinyoung’s hand tighter as you haul him towards a selection of roses. “What do you think of any of these?” You ask Jinyoung and point to the different colored roses.

“Uh, they’re nice,” Jinyoung doesn’t seem too committed to your search, but you pay that no mind. You have one goal: do not get fired. Actually, no. You have a second goal: get Darryl fired.

You pluck a red rose (love) and a burgundy rose (unconscious beauty) out of their respective buckets. Holding them up next to Jinyoung, you try to envision the book cover. But instead of seeing Jinyoung with rose petals raining down around him, you see Yoongi sprawled out across your bed with petals scattered around him.

Not the time, (y/n)!

Oh, god. The time!

You quickly grab the entire bucket of red roses and gesture for Jinyoung to grab the burgundy rose bucket. “We’ll get both and figure it out later,” You say, moving onwards towards the counter. Jinyoung follows you obediently.

When you make it to the counter, you both plop the buckets down.

“Couldn’t have just one, huh?”

You and Jinyoung jump as Yoongi appears from behind you as he rounds the counter.

“Had to take them both?” He continues, his expressionless face is worrisome. But, you do not have the time to analyze it or his confusing words right now.

“Uh, yeah? Yoongi, listen, we’re really late, and I need to pay quickly. I can explain later. Please.”

Your voice cracks on your last word, and Yoongi’s blank expression softens slightly as he sighs, “Okay, (y/n).” He accepts your credit card that you have outstretched to him and rings your flowers up.

“Thank you, Yoongi. You’re a lifesaver,” You say in a tiny voice, going to grab your wallet when you realize you don’t actually have cash on you right now. You’ll have to come back later.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Jinyoung says, giving Yoongi that classic headnod that ‘bros’ do.

Yoongi shoots Jinyoung one of the iciest glares you have ever seen; and yet, somehow, Jinyoung just smiles without a care.

“You’re welcome, (y/n),” Yoongi replies, handing you back your card along with the receipt. “Oh, I also have flowers for you - for both of you.” He snags two different flowers from the shelf behind the counter and holds one out to each of you.

You accept the pretty white flower which Yoongi calls a polyanthus lily (pleasures that inevitably cause pain), while Jinyoung gingerly accepts a cluster of smaller yellow flowers. Yoongi smugly declares them to be tansies (I declare war against you).

Thanking Yoongi again, you rush out of the shop with a bucket of roses in your hands and a model hot on your heels. You have a shoot to save and a bone to pick. It is time to get shit done.

Seven exhausting hours later, you emerge from your workplace with a sense of bitter accomplishment. Your shoot with Jinyoung had gone as well as it could have given the circumstances.

You and Mina had gotten as creative as you could have with the hundred roses you had bought from Of Fern & Freesia. You had showered Jinyoung in rose petals, you had made him place a rose between his teeth, and you had him extend one flower out like the Bachelor.

God, if you hadn’t been half in love with your flower boy you might have kissed Jinyoung for being such a good sport. Instead, you had settled for personally calling his agency to sing his praises and for making a note to send him a bonus.

Another win had come later this afternoon when you had been lucky enough to bear witness to Darryl’s termination. Your boss had been horrified to hear about Darryl’s fuckup and about all of the other bullshit he had put you through. As it turns out, she had already been keeping tabs on him for similar suspicions and this had been all the evidence she needed to seal the deal.

The look on Darryl’s face had been life changing. It had carried you through the last few hours of editing and arranging the final book cover proposal.

And so, finally, you drag your tired ass back to Of Fern & Freesia to both tip Yoongi for earlier and to give an explanation for the brevity of your afternoon visit. That is, if he is even still working at this hour. The shop is nearing its close, and you just hope you aren’t too late.

The bell chiming is the only sound that greets your ears as you enter the shop. The place is absent of the customers who usually roam around the aisles, examining flowers. Undeterred, you walk towards the back of the shop.

Yoongi is slouched over the counter, typing away furiously on his phone. He doesn’t look up as you approach as it seems he’s lost in his own virtual world.

“Paging florist Yoongi,” You call softly and smile as Yoongi is finally the one to get jumpy.

“Yah,” He cries, slapping a hand to his heart, “What are you trying to do, woman?”

“I’m trying to greet you, duh,” You roll your eyes, biting back a grin.

“All alone this time?” Yoongi sets his phone on the counter, turning his full attention - and sass - to you.

“Alone? Please,” You scoff, “My FBI agent is surely tailing me somewhere nearby.”

“There goes that mouth,” Yoongi mutters darkly, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second. He leans closer to you over the counter, “Tell me, (y/n)... Does your boyfriend like it when you talk back like that, too? Or is that all that attitude just for me?”

You mirror his actions, leaning over the counter and bringing your face closer to his. “He would like it... If he existed.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly before narrowing, “Really? Then who was that boy you came in here with earlier? So you’re saying that you hold hands and buy flowers with just anyone?” His attention on you is hard and absolute, but you don’t flinch.

You lean closer, lips only an inch or two away from his. “Hm,” You say, in mock confusion, “I didn’t realize that the last Daylight Savings had shifted us all the way back to the 14th century. Oh, wait. It’s still 2020, and I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Before you can blink, Yoongi’s hands shoot out to cradle your face and his lips are on yours. A gasp slips between your lips, and Yoongi takes advantage of your shock to slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. He pulls back slightly, his lips brushing yours as he mutters, “You are so goddamn infuriating. You walk around here looking like a fucking thirst trap when I have to be Professional Yoongi™, and then you say these absurd things that only make me want you more, and then you show up at my music show and almost make me forget every word I have ever known, and now the only melodies and lyrics that run through my brain relate to you, and so I am just losing my goddamn mind over you—”

You kiss him. “Shut up, you giant adorable idiot,” You mumble against his lips, “And for the record, I liked you first.”

Yoongi pulls away from you and shakes his head, “No way, babe. I’ve liked you since the moment I saw you standing at this counter for the first time last month.”

You cross your arms, “Oh yeah? Well, I’ve liked you since you walked out of that back room right there to help me for the first time last month. So, it looks like we’re even.”

“Even?” Yoongi grins, ducking down to pull something off the shelf below the counter. “That’s cute. But, I win,” He straightens, placing a bigger tip jar that you’ve never seen before onto the counter between you. Slowly, he turns it around so that the post-it note attached to it is displayed for you: “Cute girl (Y/n) and Yoongi’s Date Fund”.

“Wow, am I not cute anymore?” You joke, looking up at Yoongi who rolls his eyes.

“That was before I knew your name, babe, and (y/n) is too beautiful a name not to be written at every opportunity.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. Your cheeks flush traitorously as you smile, “You’re so full of shit, Min Yoongi.”

“Am not,” He argues, moving around the counter over to your side. Just when you think he’s trying to get closer to you, he moves past you.

“Where are you going?” You trail after him, pausing when you notice he’s pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. Your eyes widen to their full extent as you watch him lock up the shop and flip around the sign to read: “Closed”.

Yoongi turns back around. “Come here, (y/n),” He says, his voice deep, his lips tugging into a smirk.

You resort to your instinctual reaction whenever someone issues you an order, “Make me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Yoongi prowls towards you. You back up with every step he takes, and before you know it, your back is up against the counter. Yoongi’s arms cage you in on either side of your body. He’s so close. The heat from his body sears into you and you think you might just faint from proximity.

“What do you want from me?” You whisper as Yoongi’s head dips to place soft kisses along your neck.

“I want you,” He says without a pause or hesitation, “In any way you’ll give me.”

“And would I get you in return?” You sigh as Yoongi sucks lightly on the skin right below your ear.

You feel his smile before he answers, “Babe, you already have me.”

Your heart swells. He is yours. But in true (y/n) fashion you cannot help but to fuck with him further, “Ah, well that just disincentivizes giving myself to you. Since I already have you, why should I let you have me?”

Yoongi bites your neck lightly in response to your teasing, and you are too surprised to catch the moan before it winds its way out of your mouth. “Fuck, baby, I need to hear you make that sound again,” Yoongi growls, his hands gripping your thighs before lifting you onto the counter. “Let me have you,” He begs, pulling his head back to stare at you. His pupils are so blown out, and you are certain yours are the same way.

His hands are still gripping your thighs as you clench them together as best you can with Yoongi in between.

“Oh,” Yoongi murmurs, looking too pleased, “Is my baby desperate for my touch already?”

“Puh-lease,” You reply, “Don’t act like you aren’t hard as fuck right now, Min.”

“That’s besides the point. I’ve been hard for you since you walked in here in that tight as fuck skirt and those fucking heels,” Yoongi scowls. “And then you had the audacity to take your hair down like some sort of seductress. I had to jerk off like three times that night.”

“Oh,” You grin evilly, “You mean… like this?” You reach up to pull the pencil out of your topknot, successfully sending your hair tumbling down your shoulders. You shake your head slightly to help the strands settle and bask in Yoongi’s dark expression complete with clenched jaw.

“That’s it,” Yoongi’s hands slide under your thighs, and suddenly you are thrown over his shoulder.

“Yoongi!” You cry as he carries you into the back room of the shop.

“Shut it, you,” Yoongi spanks your ass once, and you let out a tiny squeak before you are set down on a marble island amidst a room full of flowers, ribbons, and anything even remotely related to bouquet-making.

You’re too distracted by the beauty that surrounds you to notice that Yoongi is grabbing something from a nearby shelf. He returns to stand in front of you once more. “Let me taste you,” He says as if he’s asking for the time of day.

“If you must,” You feign indifference, but your smile betrays you.

“Clothes off,” Yoongi says, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it. You don’t think twice before stripping out of your blouse and unbuttoning your dark jeans.

“You’re gonna have to help me, Yoongi,” You sigh as you stare down at the lack of room Yoongi is giving you to stand to take off your pants.

“It would be my honor,” Yoongi replies, and you groan at his dramatics. “Ass up,” He commands. You lean back onto your elbows and lift your ass up so that he can take your jeans off successfully.

“Damn, baby,” His eyes burn into you as he takes in the sight of your body covered just barely by your lace bra and panties. Tugging a scrap of ribbon from his pocket, Yoongi approaches you, “Can I blindfold you?”

“Kinky,” You breathe, nodding. Yoongi grins and gently ties the soft ribbon around your head, effectively surrounding you in darkness.

“Lay back,” He murmurs. You do so, shivering slightly as your skin meets the coolness of the marble. A soft kiss is placed to your cheek before you feel a brush of something else cross your neck.

You gasp as what you can only imagine could be a flower is dragged along your body, dipping in between your breasts, down across your stomach, ghosting over your hips. All of your senses are buzzing, hyper-aware of everything but your sight.

And so when you feel a finger slowly stroke you over your panties, you let out a gasp. “Yoongi,” You moan, your hips shifting in vain to bring his hand closer.

“Say my name again,” He growls, and you hear a snip along with a quick touch of metal.

“Yoongi,” You chastise, “Did you just fucking cut my underwear off?”

“Hm, not quite the tone I was asking for but it’ll do,” The grin is apparent in his voice and you open your mouth to lay into him when his tongue slides between your folds.

“Fuck,” You sigh, your hand winding down your body to clutch at his hair, “Yoongi, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Yoongi mumbles, and then you are suddenly moved closer to the edge of the island and his mouth is on you.

His lips kiss over every inch of your pussy, his tongue flicks out every so often to drag over your clit. It’s slow and torturously sweet. Your back arches as Yoongi suddenly sucks lightly at your swollen bud.

“Yoongi.”

That sets him off. You feel Yoongi’s finger tease your entrance, lightly pushing in and out as his mouth continues to suck and caress your pussy.

“Please.”

His finger sinks into you, and you curse, moaning Yoongi’s name as he continues to push in and out of you. Though your vision is taken, you begin to see white as you hurtle towards the precipice.

Another finger is thrust inside you and you cry out. “Fuck, baby,” Yoongi growls, “You are so wet for me, so tight, so delicious. Tell me when you’re close. I want you to come in my mouth.”

Fuck, he’s filthy. You think you might love him.

“I’m already close, you little shit,” You groan as he sucks your clit harshly, making you somehow see stars.

Yoongi immediately switches things up, his tongue sinks inside you as his fingers rub your clit in quick, light circles.

You come with a scream, feeling Yoongi sucking and lapping up everything you give him. He carries you through your orgasm, and finally you sink back onto the marble.

And then you rip off the blindfold.

“My turn!” You grin, blinking furiously as your eyes readjust to the light of the room. You sit up. Yoongi is still kneeling between your legs, gazing up at you with wet lips and a feral expression.

“Your turn?” He arches an eyebrow and stands. You take advantage of his movements and hop down off the island.

“Those are the words that came out of my mouth, yes,” You throw his own words from a few days ago back in his face.

You can tell he remembers when he laughs slightly, his eyes crinkling adorably.

“Now get naked, Min Yoongi,” You command, unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the ground.

Yoongi groans at the sight of you and then whips his shirt off, throwing it at you.

Laughing, you catch it and chuck it to the side. Before you know it, Yoongi stands naked before you. His torso is also covered in ink, his nipples are pierced, his cock is hard.

You slowly walk over to him, excited by how the tables have turned now. “Blindfold?” You ask, dangling the satin ribbon in front of you.

He shakes his head swiftly, “No, I need to see you.”

You grab his cock and revel in the hiss of breath he sucks in, “Baby boy, I don't think you understand who is in charge here.”

“Fuck,” He moans, both at your words and at the slow movements of your hand along his length.

“Now, since you made me come particularly hard, I’m going to give you another option: I tie your wrists.”

Yoongi looks pissed, “I have to pick one?”

You take your hand away, and he caves instantly. “Fine! Tie my wrists.”

“Good boy,” You smirk, “Now lay on the island like I just did.” You watch as he listens, grumbling all the while about how he wanted to touch you and how this was some bullshit. He’d learn.

Finally, Yoongi is in position and gives out a big sigh like he just went through so much effort. So extra.

You make quick work of his wrists, tying them above his head loosely. “Let me know it gets to be too much for you, okay?” You kiss him softly and swiftly and smile as he tries to chase your lips as you pull back.

You hop onto the island and slowly kneel over Yoongi. Your knees are on either side of his calves as you lean down, arching your back so your ass is high in the air, and then you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth.

The moan that Yoongi emits is so sexy that you almost skip right to sitting on his dick - almost. Instead, you just speed up, swirling your tongue around him and cradling his balls in your palm.

“Fucking hell, baby,” Yoongi rasps out, his eyes squeezed shut, “Your fucking mouth.”

You smile around him and take him further inside your mouth. Yoongi chokes out more curses than you have ever heard before. And when you swallow around him, he groans, “I’m gonna come. Wanna come on your tits.”

You release him with a pop. “No,” You say, sitting back on your heels.

Yoongi’s neck strains as he looks down at you, “Please, (y/n), baby, I need you. Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” His head falls back as he smirks slightly, “I can’t believe that you just sucked my dick and that I actually got to eat you out just now. Damn, I don’t know how I got so lucky. Maybe I saved someone famous in my past life. Or maybe I was Spiderman—”

Moving quickly, you settle further up his body, hovering over his cock. Your hand covers Yoongi’s mouth. “Are you malfunctioning? Oh my god, I broke you. And to think I was going to sit on your dick next… That’s too bad. I don't think you can handle it.”

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he stares up at you, “Mmph!” His words are muffled by your palm.

“What’s that?” You tease, leaning down to slowly suck on his nipple, swirling the piercing around with your tongue. “You still want me to?”

This time, you remove your hand so he can reply fully. As soon as your palm leaves, Yoongi cries, “Please, please, please, baby. Take me inside you. I’ll make you feel good, I promise!”

“Well,” You straighten, grabbing his cock and lining him up with your entrance, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Slowly, you sink down. Inch by inch you watch as Yoongi’s face scrunches up as he murmurs your name like a prayer. Finally, you take him all the way inside. “Well, how does it feel, baby?” You grin.

“Like fucking heaven,” He groans, his fists clenching above him as he tries to thrust into you as best he can.

“Relax, baby,” You place a palm on his chest, “Let me take care of you.” With that, you begin to move. Your hips swivel slowly at first and then pick up the pace. You feel him twitching inside you and you know that he’s already close from how well you sucked him off earlier.

You ride him hard, sliding up and down his hard cock and watching his face as you ruin him. His breathing is harsh and his legs begin shaking beneath you, “Fuck, shit, damn, baby, please.”

His words are a garbled mess as you clench down around him, beginning to feel your own orgasm rising. “Don’t you dare come yet, Min Yoongi,” You hiss, leaning back slightly to take him deeper.

“Baby-y, please.” You watch enraptured as a tear slips out of his eye. Yoongi’s abs are clenching and you know he is so fucking close to coming.

“Look at me,” You order, sliding a hand down your body to circle your clit. He listens and groans immediately at the sight of you.

“Watching you ride me makes me want to come even more!” He whines, but nevertheless keeps his eyes on you. You smile and moan softly as you continue to ride him, flicking your clit between your fingers. You’re close now.

Your movements become frantic as you bounce on his cock, your hips shifting over his. You hurtle towards your climax and you tighten around him, “Come.”

Immediately, you feel him come inside you, painting your walls and filling you with warmth. You light up as you come for the second time that night, your walls pulsing around his cock, milking him.

Yoongi is undone underneath you, his head is thrown back, throat on full display. He is muttering something about the sweetest pussy ever and wedding rings. And he looks so good that you can't resist laying down on top of him, kissing his neck. “You good, baby boy?” You smile in between kisses.

“I think you did break me,” He mumbles, his hands settling on your hips. Wait a second…

“How did you untie yourself?” You pout, relaxing into Yoongi’s chest as his hands rub your ass.

“Silk is slippery, babe,” You can practically hear his grin, “But not as slippery as your pus—”

“Min Yoongi!” You cry, hopping off of him. He whines as he slips out of you but then licks his lips as he notices his own cum dripping down your legs.

“Come here,” He crooks a finger at you.

“Make me,” You retort once again, smirking slightly.

He groans, “I don't think I can even move right now if I wanted to. But come on, sit on my face.”

“Wow, such language!” You slap a hand over your heart, “My delicate ears will never recover!”

“You’re the worst,” Yoongi laughs, easing up to sit. “Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.”

“Nice,” You nod proudly, “Leave that review on Yelp, please.”

His dark eyes narrow, “Who else is leaving reviews, (y/n)?”

Laughing, you tug on Yoongi’s discarded t-shirt, “Oh, you know, the rest of my harem of flower boys.”

“What!” Yoongi makes a miraculous recovery as he jumps off the island and tugs you to him, “I’m your flower boy, baby. You’ll never need anyone else.”

Smiling widely up at him, you simply reply, “Okay, bloomer.”

a/n: flower meanings sourced from: The Complete Language of Flowers: A Definitive and Illustrated History by S. Theresa Dietz AND The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh [again, meanings differ depending on the source!)

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spacedikut · 4 years ago

Text

my all ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: “hey could i do a fic request for an x spencer? could u maybe do something with really touchstarved spencer (bc germaphobia) and him being at first too awkward to go n cuddle and then as he gains more confidence he gets much more touchy and huggy and stuff? and reader being shocked by how cuddly he is? plzplzplz? its totally ok if u dont write it but just wanted to send in the request!” 2689 words

a/n: i hope i did this justice! i love spencer reid!!!!!!!!!

masterlist

Spencer first realised how much he loves your touch after a case where he put himself directly in danger.

You ran up, flung your arms around him and pulled him against you so tightly he felt winded.

He was shocked, stunned, and everything in between, but the most important thing is that he hugged back. It felt natural, the right thing to do, and his arms felt so snug and perfect around you his heart stuttered.

You pulled back, noticed his expression, and winced despite his reciprocation, “Sorry. I just. You could’ve died, you moron. You scared me.”

All he did was give you a breathless smile and with a squeeze of his shoulders you let go, allowing him to get checked by a medic.

Spencer struggled to sleep on the jet home, plagued by the thoughts of you - you with your arms around him, how much he enjoyed how it felt.

It felt… wrong to like it as much as he did. Like, in theory, enjoying your physical touch went against his moral code – as a germaphobe, the thought of having to come into contact with anyone in any way makes him want to vomit. But, with you?

You smelt so good, even after running for God knows how long. You were so soft, yet so firm, so warm and welcoming and dear God Spencer has never wanted to touch every inch of someone so bad in his life.

The case was a rough one, so Garcia was waiting for you all with loving eyes and a pitiful smile, arms wide open for whoever may need it. Spencer instantly decides no thanks, but you swoop in and cuddle up to Garcia within seconds of seeing her.

You even place a series of kisses against her cheek, and Spencer is transported back to your hug.

If he was more like Garcia, open to any form of love as long as it’s love, would you have kissed him like that?

His pulse quickens, palms get sweaty and he has to clear his throat to bring himself back to Earth.

He can’t afford to think like that.

But your lips…

No. Paperwork? Let’s do that and not think about a colleague’s lips.

+++

You’re furious.

You told Spencer to wait for backup, to not do anything stupid or irrational and definitely do NOT go in there alone, genius!

And what did he do?

He didn’t wait for backup, did something very stupid and irrational, and definitely went in alone.

And now he’s dealing with a hefty concussion and flurry of other injuries; cuts, scratches, and bruises alike all dotted over him like he’s a connect-the-dots drawing.

The second he wakes up, you’re gonna kill him.

For the time being, you’ll gently thread your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp, and watch his chest rise and fall to ensure he’s alive and breathing.

“Mmm,” A groan, “That feels nice.”

His eyes flutter open. You lean towards the table next to him, pick up the bottle of water and the jello cup, and offer him both.

“Thanks,” He says, hoarsely.

You sit back in your chair. Spencer doesn’t take his eyes off you once. Not when he drinks the whole bottle of water, or when he cracks open the jello and inhales it with one slurp.

Your brows furrow.

“You’re banned from work until you’re fully healed.”

“I’m suspended?!” He guffaws.

“No,” You shake your head, “I’m personally telling you you’re not welcome back until you’re okay.”

“I’m okay now.”

“Do a backflip, genius.”

Spencer giggles, “I can’t do that in peak physical condition, Y/N.”

“Sounds like a cop out to me. So, again, you’re banned from work until you’re fully healed.”

He considers fighting back, but then he remembers what you were doing when he woke up, what he felt when he woke up.

He was confused and, you know, in pain, but there was this tender and soft, repetitive touch that immediately eased him. His subconscious knew it was you, in all your glory and sweetness, that had stayed with him for however long, looking after him even when he wasn’t conscious to know it.

So he just keeps staring at you, spoonful of jello in his mouth.

+++

When you get to Spencer’s place, he looks around like it’s his first time seeing it – awe and wonder painted on his face.

Everything he’s doing, everything he’s going through, you’re putting it all down to his concussion.

On the way here, he told you the whole history of car air fresheners after taking a good five seconds to get a good sniff of the cherry blossom scent you have.

“Let’s get you settled in, huh?” You say quietly, guiding Spencer to his bedroom. He walks a little like a mummy, kinda stumpy and heavy, and he flops on the bed.

You give a lopsided grin as you watch him. He’s mumbling incoherently, shuffling up to the top of his bed to fall flat on his back.

He moans.

“Alright, alright,” You placate, “Let me go… gather some things.”

You don’t know Spencer’s place all that well, so it takes you a while to find even the simplest things like a glass, a flannel, a snack. You get lost in snooping around, trying not to profile him, and the one thing you deduct is his apartment is so him. So Spencer, so lovely and comforting and a little odd.

You can’t get enough.

There’s a weak call from his bedroom: “Y/N?”

“Coming!”

He hasn’t moved an inch from where you left him. He looks so pitiful, bruised eyes and a cut right through his lip, and you almost coo at him.

“I’m not a good cook, so I thought we could order some food later.” You hand him the water and gesture for him to drink. “In the meantime, you need to rest. Mind if I borrow a book while I keep you company?”

You turn to leave, but Spencer’s voice makes you pause.

“Could you play with my hair again?”

A part of you wants to say no, like this is some overly intimate thing he’s asking, but then you remind yourself that he’s injured, which has reverted him to acting like a sleepy child.

“Please?” He looks at you with glassy eyes and he looks adorable, “Only for a little while.”

You say nothing, sliding into bed next to him. He scoots over a little to make more room for you, curling into you before your back hits the bed entirely. One hand rests above the covers, naturally placed on his arm, thumb smoothing him back and forth. The other, the one wrapped around his head, cards through his lightly tangled hair, all warm and loving.

He falls asleep instantly and, not long after, you fall asleep, too.

You both dream of eachother and wake up blushing.

+++

Spencer’s back in work within four days. You’re working a new case the second you arrive.

There’s been a shift in your dynamic and everyone’s noticed it. No one questions it, however, because they’re all aware you looked after him while he was away, and they witnessed how worried you were when you found him, but they can’t help but ogle and whisper.

They might be federal agents, but gossip is gossip and they love it.

You’ve noticed it, too, obviously. JJ tried to tease you about it, after Spencer bought you your favourite coffee and morning muffin on the way to the precinct, but you shut her down (and yourself from thinking about it too much) by reminding her you spent several days caring for him. He’s repaying you, even though you’ve told him he doesn’t need to.

Ever heard of transference, JJ?

A shiver runs through you as you look into the interrogation room. It’s not because of the suspect, though, it’s because the AC has been turned up – a tactic Hotch promises will be worth it despite your chattering teeth.

Something’s wrapped around you, suddenly, light but cosy and adds some heat to you that you need.

It’s a cardigan. Grey, much too big for you, the sleeves falling way beyond your arms and length reaching your mid-thigh. There’s a little red heart with eyes stitched on the left breast.

It’s Spencer’s.

“You’re shivering,” Spencer chastises, seemingly appearing from nowhere, “You know, when we shiver, it’s our bodies doing the opposite of sweating – it tightens the skin and shakes the muscles, a process that conserves and generates heat. We shiver to get warm. Do you not have a coat?”

“Alright, dad,” You tease, “It’s in the conference room. I wasn’t prepared for Hotch to make the unsub an icicle.”

Spencer breathes a laugh, moving closer to reach an arm around you. His other hand presses against your bicep, his grip sturdy as he vigorously rubs up and down your arms to generate heat.

Whoa.

It certainly works. You feel hot, suddenly, but not because of the cardigan or whatever the hell he’s doing, because Spencer has voluntarily touched you and is standing so close you feel like you’re on fire from the inside out. You’re sure your heart skips a beat and you stare at him in bewilderment.

He shrugs, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, “My mom used to do that for me when I was young and got cold. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

You give a shy smile, “Yeah, I appreciate it a lot, Spence. Thanks.”

When Hotch leaves the interrogation room, he half-halts when he sees you in Spencer’s cardigan. It’s the perfect Hotch reaction, combined with the rise of an eyebrow as he walks past you to reconvene with the team.

You don’t take it off when you all walk back to the conference room, and Spencer doesn’t ask for it back.

Everyone notices. A lot of eye contact is made with many questions silently asked.

You and Spencer pretend not to notice.

+++

There’s a knock on your door at precisely 10:12pm. You check because your first instinct is if I’m about to get robbed, I’m making sure the timestamps are correct.

It’s not a robber. It’s Spencer – frazzled, wrapped up all nice and warm like a pretty present, Spencer Reid.

His nose is slightly red from the biting cold outside.

Leaning against your doorframe, you say, “Hey there,”

“Hi,” He waves.

You stare for a couple of seconds, then remember the polite thing to do is invite him in: “Come in, come in! Do you want some tea? You look cold.”

“Coffee would be great, thank you.”

You move to your kitchen, not very far from your front door, but Spencer stays put and awkwardly glances around your place. He loves it, he decides. Very you.

You notice he hasn’t moved, “Make yourself comfortable, Spence. My cat is somewhere if you want to say hi.”

He slowly moves to your couch, removing his coat, scarf and satchel as he does it. Two drinks in hand, you join him and fling your fluffy sock-clad feet onto your coffee table.

“So what can I help you with?” You ask.

Spencer takes a sip of his burning drink, “What makes you think I want something?”

“Why else would you be here? You wanna watch Grey’s Anatomy with me?”

Spencer laughs lightly. You’re right. He’s here for a reason that isn’t to watch TV that he loves to correct with you.

He’s quiet, then, and does that thing where his tongue flicks out to lightly wet his lips in nervousness.

“Something’s been going on.” He starts, ambiguously, “And it’s left me asking a lot of questions.”

Your brows furrow. It’s not like Spencer to be cryptic like this.

“Did it mean anything?” He asks, finally, turning to look at you. “Any of it?”

“Did what mean anything?”

“The.. the playing with the hair, the over-all gentleness, the cuddling.”

Your shoulders tighten up and you hope he doesn’t notice.

He does.

“Spence,” You give a fake laugh, “You were hurt and I was comforting you. Looking after you. You know, like a friend does.”

“No one else did as much as you.”

“You wanted comfort, and I’m more than happy to provide that, Spence. Everyone else was busy.”

“You took time off for me.”

You don’t have an answer for that.

You’re trying to keep the conversation light and breezy to not show your true feelings. You’re not ready for that kind of conversation, but he’s right. You used your vacation days to stay with him and care for him.. and you know you didn’t do it platonically.

“You’re my friend, Spence,” You say, voice soft.

“That’s it? That’s all it was?” He doesn’t sound angry, or hurt, maybe peeved. He won’t look you in the eyes, though.

“What else would it be?”

Spencer scoffs.

He moves away from you, hands running through his hair in exasperation when he lets out a breath.

“We cuddled, Y/N. I haven’t done that with anyone in-in years! The last person was my mother when I was ten years old!”

“That’s supposed to mean something?!”

“I-I don’t know,” He sounds exhausted, as if the complications of his emotions are taking way too much energy out of him, “But I really liked it. And I really like you.”

You look at him, then, and he’s staring back. He looks… hopeful.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

You swallow deeply.

“I tried to show you with the uh, the cardigan thing,” He scratches the back of his neck, a laugh to mock himself leaving him, “But I’ve never been good with that stuff.”

He moves closer, shifting to face you, eyes remaining locked with yours.

“Say something.” He whispers.

“I-I-“ You stutter, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. I’ve spent the last week thinking about it non-stop.”

“Really?” You laugh in disbelief.

“Yeah!” He gives a small smile, “I-uh.. wrote to my mom about you, too. She told me that if I’m this caught up on you, you must be special. Which you are, by the way.”

“I’m special?” You grin teasingly.

“Very special.”

There’s a moment where you think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he shyly asks, “Do you feel the same?”

You bite your lip. “I do. Really, I do. I’m just.. a little apprehensive, I guess.”

“Of what?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid when it comes to you.”

God, he’s so infuriatingly sweet. You wish you could kiss him all over.

You might be able to, if all this goes well.

“I don’t want things to be weird if we don’t work out.” You admit, adding a shrug to appear casual. It’s not like you’ve worried about this since you realised you liked him.

Spencer tilts his head at you, “You’re already thinking about a breakup when we haven’t even gone on a first date?”

You giggle, which he returns with a smile, “I mean- I like you, Spence, and have for a while. I’ve thought about all outcomes.”

“All?”

You roll your eyes as he gives you a look, “Yes, all. I’d want us to work out but.. what if we don’t?”

He places a now warmed up hand on yours, “Well, we won’t know unless we try, right?” His hold tightens, “I’m willing to give it my all if you are.”

You look from your hands to his face, and decide yes, if there’s one risk you want to take in your life, it’s a risk that could possibly result in you spending the rest of your life with your favourite person on this planet.

So you nod.

“I’ll give you my all, and then some.”

He grins, “That’s quite the promise.”

You don’t reply, instead swinging your legs over his lap and leaning into his side to cuddle up to him. He reciprocates like it’s second nature, hand slipping from yours to wrap around your waist and tug you closer.

“Wanna watch Star Trek as a mini first date?” You look up at him through your eyelashes.

You really are perfect for me, Spencer thinks.

“Yes. Yes I do.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #thank u to everyone who has sent a request i promise ive seen it #i kinda hate how the confession is written but im tired n feeling d*pressed and anxious #so take it pls

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xxreader-writerxx · 3 years ago

Text

Red Haired Boy

Word Count: 3.6k (sorry got carried away)

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Warnings: PTSD, mentions of death (happy ending tho), panic attack, graphic violence at parts, mentions of blood, cursing (maybe?), tell me if I need to add anything

Y/N= Your Name L/N= Your Last Name Y/H= Your House Y/N/N= Your nickname

I get shoved sideways by a red haired boy and run into the wall. I let out a small gasp feeling my shoulder run into a sharp brick. I hold the cut with tears in my eyes. I see the boy turn around and run back worried. "Bloody hell! I'm so so sorry!" He tells me and I shake my head firmly. "It's alright." I mumble trying to make it seem like I'm not crying. "No it's not, you're bleeding!" He tells me and I see another boy run and stop seeing us. "Fred! He's on my tail!" He tells him tugging his arm. "Go on then! I need to handle something!" He tells him angrily getting his arm free. "Whatever..." The other boy mutters. "Does it hurt?" He asks and I shake my head shyly. "No... I'm fine. Really."

"WEASLEY!" I hear and see its our groundskeeper. "I'm going to enjoy this one..." He mutters to himself as he pulls the boy by his arm harshly. I look at him and he looks sad but smiles weakly at me. "AH MY ARM. OH IT HURTS!" I say not thinking. "What?!" He asks and I clutch my arm. "AH HELP HELP!" I yelp and he drops Fred, as soon as he's freed I silently tell him to run and he smiles at me. He runs and Filch is still distracted by my wailing. I stand straight and smile. "Its gone now. I think I just need to get patched up." I say calmly, walking to the infirmary.

"What do you mean?" I hear as I get wrapped up by Madam Pomfrey. "It was bloody amazing. She started screaming her arm hurt and let me run off!" A nearly identical voice replies. "Well good for her but karma must've came to bite you." The voice replies. "Yeah... But- No way! It's her!" He says and I look up to see the boy I helped earlier. "Hey- What happened!?" I ask seeing his eye covered in blood. "When he was running he was distracted and fell face first into a statue, cut his eyebrow pretty good." His identical brother tells me. "Oh no!" I say and he walks over and Madam Pomfrey groans.

"Sit there, I'll be back in a moment... Foolish boy..." She mutters and he hops up next to me. "Fred Weasley." He introduces and I smile shyly, shaking his hand. "Y/n, Y/n L/n..."

"I wanted to say thank you, for not only saving me but I also wanted to say thank you for saving me despite me hurting you." He tells me shyly and I smile. "My pleasure."

***

I wake up to my boyfriend kissing my shoulder as I sleepily wake up. "Hi baby..." I whisper groggily. "Hi darling..." He smiles at me and I notice he's kissing my scar from how we met. He places his cheek against mine as I wrap his arms around me. "Whatcha thinking about?" I ask and he sighs. "I never payed you back for saving me the day you got this..." He tells me and I laugh. "How bout..." I say pushing him lightly so I'm on top. "Five minutes, whenever I choose to use it, you have to do whatever I want." I whisper and he smiles cheekily. "Yes ma'am..." He tells me and I chuckles. "Yay that one day I will be doing no dishes." I tell him and he scoffs. "I was thinking something more sexual but ok." He tells me and I kiss his nose.

***

I look around frantically for my loved ones, happy I am a half witch so my family isn't here, blood related though. I look for the Weasley Family trying to see through the falling dust and rubble. I see a messy ginger hair and get excited. I limp over as quickly and see its not my Weasley but Percy. He's screaming for help. I ignore the pain coursing through me and run the best I can.

He's digging through rubble and I freeze in fear. "W-who is that?" I ask seeing a hand underneath it all. "JUST HELP!" He screams and I rush over moving each piece of rubble. I finally help drag the body out. I lay him on me to support his head and moves his hair from his eyes. "Freddie?" I ask softly and he looks at me smiling. "Hey..." He barely says and he gasps slightly for air. "Hey, stay awake for me... Percy get help, he's bleeding a lot..." I cry and he runs. I feel Fred's weak and cold hand wrap around mine. "I hoped you were in my last moments ya know?" He tells me smiling, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Well let that be another day. Freddie you are going to stay alive you idiot." I tell him chuckling through my worry, combing his hair lightly. "I want you to be happy. Don't wait for me to come back. Find someone who makes you happy. Alright?" He asks and I scoff. "I would if you were dying. But you aren't." I sob and he holds my hand. "You'll be ok..." He whispers closing his eyes but I grab his head shaking my own. "Hey remember the time we met?" I ask smiling at him and he nods smiling. "You cut my shoulder so deep and I saved you minutes later, remember that?" I ask and he scoffs leaning his head back weakly. "Didn't think my last moments would be getting guilt tripped." He tells me and gasps at a pain in his side. "Well because of that you told me you would give me five minutes of anything I wanted. I want to have five minutes, after this war, dancing with you. You understand? I want to get married and dance for five minutes." I demand and he chuckles, then cringes at the pain.

Wizards swarm us and help him onto a stretcher as we finally let go of each other's hands. People help me up saying I need to heal my injuries. I keep my eyes on him scared..

***

Three months.

Three fucking months and nothing is better. They said it would be better by now. But I still miss him, miss my fiancé. He died shortly after I saw him. His dead body being the only thing on my mind every single day. Today I need to collect his belongings so I throw myself out of bed sadly. I walk out to the room to the empty, quiet, kitchen. I look for my mug and think George must have put it away when he was cleaning. The twin of my passed fiancé constantly stops by to help around the house, he says it helps pass the time.

I climb on the ladder and see he just put it far back in the shelf. I look right above it and look at it shocked. It's Fred's mug.

I hold it and tear up. "Why couldn't you stay? You promised you would stay! You promised! Wh-why did I have to loose you?!" I scream and fall to my knees feeling my heart crumble. "You promised..." I whisper against the mug. I put it down and feel the ground rumble from the nearby train. I ignore it until it makes my mug fall from the counter and drop on Fred's. "No... No no no no no..." I sob picking up the pieces.

George's POV:

I walk into the building to see Y/n yelling at the landlord angrily. "NO YOU CALM DOWN GARRETT! THAT BLOODY TRAIN BROKE MY FIANCE'S MUG! HE FOUGHT IN A WAR YOU WOULD NEVER IMAGINE! HIS MUG IS IRREPLACEABLE! HE FOUGHT DEATHEATERS! DID YOU FIGHT DEATHEATERS GARRETT?! NO! SO YOU WILL GET THAT BLOODY BLOODY TRAIN TO STOP OR PUT A DAMN SPELL ON THIS BUILDING SO I DON'T HAVE TO THINK I AM ON A CRUISE EVERYTIME IT PASSES!" She yells at him holding a bag to her chest, tears streaming down her face. I grab her arms holding them to her chest as she continues to yell at him. "Sorry mate its just a horrible day." I explain as I wrestle her into the lift. "Y/N!" I yell at her and she sobs clutching the bag. "All I had left George! I didn't even know I had it! And it was gone just like he's gone! It was practically a reenactment!" She cries and I hold her close. I kiss the top of her head knowingly.

"He's gone!" She sobs and I nod not wanting to add to it. As much as I miss Fred, she misses him more. She has had everyone in her life leave her and he was all she had besides our family but we weren't even close to him. She trusted him with her life and it was ripped away so quickly. Her love for him was more than a man could describe.

"Let's get you washed up..." I whisper and she nods silently.

***

Fred's POV:

I limp inside the home I once knew and look for my mother, brother, anyone. I can barely see through my bloody hair that has overgrown. I climb the stairs harshly noting the pain in my ribs. I open my room and everything is empty on my side. I walk over to George's bed and nothing. "Mum?" I barely croak. I keep searching ignoring the pain.

I hear a teacup fall and break behind me, I whip around to see my mother as pale as possible. "George? What's wrong?!" She asks and I try to smirk. "Mum wrong twin, but before I yell at you about that I need to find- well myself..." I say drawing my wand. "What? George are you alright? Please don't tell me my boy is gone too." She whimpers. "Mum, where have you last seen me, or well Fred?" I ask and she walks over, tears filling her eyes. "Georgie... Fred died. You remember don't you?" She whispers, combing my hair, I nearly relax at the sensation, haven't been able to see my mother in a year. Only being tortured.

"Mum? I died?" I ask and she sobs, holding me. "C'mon Georgie! Don't tell me we have to go back to St. Mungo's!" She sobs into my chest. "What?! George went to St. Mungo's?!" I ask getting worried. "Oh Godric... Georgie! Y/n! She snapped! Please stop this!" She cries and I freeze. "What do you mean mum?" I ask and she cries more. "You know what happened!" She clutches my shirt tightly. "Mum!" I say grabbing her wrists. "It. Is. Fred. I have been tortured for a year. I need to go find Georgie and Y/n. Where's my girl?" I ask getting worried. She places a hand on my cheek and looks at me carefully. "Freddie?" She asks and I nod, cupping her hand. "Yes mum. Freddie. Can you heal me up and show me where my girl and twin is? I haven't seen them in so long, I miss them." I ask and she smiles. "ARTHUR COME HERE!" She yells as she helps me to the den.

***

I walk into George's apartment with him and my parents slowly. "Why's she living here?" I ask and George sighs. "Please be calm alright?" He asks and I nod. He unlocks the door and looks around. "Y/n?" He calls and sighs. "Don't know why I try anymore..." He whispers mostly to himself. "Please show her slowly George. We can't have her getting worse." My mum tells him and he nods.

I walk into a room across from his and see her laying on her bed. "Hey Y/n! Got you a surprise..." George says and points to the corner. "Let me get her used to seein me first." He whispers and I look at him confused. She turns around and smiles at him silently. "Still no talking?" He asks and she tears up. "It's alright. Can you trust me real quick?" He asks and she nods confused. My heart breaks seeing her, she looks broken.

"C'mere Fred..." He tells me and she whips her head around. I walk over and she tears up. "No..." She whispers and I back away. "Hey Lovey..." I whisper. "You're dead." she tells me and I chuckle. "Turns out. A lot of people think that..." I joke and she walks over. She pokes my chest and I poke her shoulder playfully. "What was that for?" I ask joking and she says nothing but wrap her arm around me.

"Hey Y/n/n, want some tea and we can explain?" George asks and she nods. "Alright me and Fred-" He begins but she shakes her head, holding me tighter like a toddler with a teddy. "I want Fred to stay." She says and I kiss her head. "Y/n, you need to change." He tells her and she grips on my shirt. "I want Fred to stay." She repeats and he sighs. "George. She can just change while I'm turned around. I don't think she'll let me leave, right lovey?" I ask and she nods, nuzzling her face into my shirt. "He'll leave again." She states and I kneel. "Never again. I promise." I tell her and she starts to cry. "You said that." She tells me and my heart breaks. "I know, but this year was temporary. I promise." I tell her.

George finally leaves and she changes as quickly as possible and races back to hug me again. I pick her up and she stays hugging me. "Freddie..." She whispers and I nod. "I gotcha baby." I tell her and she shoves her head in the crook of my neck.

I sit down and George is tearing up. "You got her to talk." He tells me and I look at her confused. "What do you mean?" I ask and he wipes his face. "She was ok at first... Then she saw a Scrapbook of you guys. She realized that you were actually well- You know what I mean. And she stopped talking. We brought her to St. Mungo's in hope she'd start talking but after a month I just took her in here. Hoping one day she'd talk again. Then you came back. She talked for the first time today. Only because she saw you." He explains. "Your turn." She says and I nod, rubbing circles on her back.

"They thought us twins were the only two who were important enough to be in the army but slightly unimportant to kidnap one and try to get answers. They replaced me with a soldier using Polyjuice. Luckily... I had the memory of you guys keeping me strong." I explain kissing her neck. I feel tears on my shoulder and I move to see her face. "What's wrong lovey?" I ask and she hides in my neck again. "My fault." She cries into my neck. "Hey... What do you mean?" I ask and she nuzzles her face into my neck. "I didn't notice..." She cries and I kiss her neck up and down softly. "No baby, they took some of my memories so it would be impossible to not notice." I explain and she holds me tightly. "But I love you so much. I should've." She explains, taking breaks, every time trying to remember a word or at least how to say it. "I'm going to pack her things, I think your flat will be more comfortable." George says and I nod.

"I'm sorry." She mumbles and I kiss her again. "Me too..." I whisper.

***

"Good morning darling." I say as I sit on the couch next to Y/n. She smiles at me slightly and I grab the newspaper. "Want me to read for you?" I ask and she nods, laying on my lap. I run my fingers through her hair as I read the news, showing her the cartoons. I'm smiling and laughing for her until she gets up and grabs a grape. She eats it and I pop up straight. "Sorry did you want that?" She asks and I smile at her. I kiss her all over her face and she giggles. I start kissing her even more causing more giggles. The sound I haven't heard in two years, right before the war.

"Freddie!" She giggles and I smile at her with the dopiest smile I can muster. "I love your laugh..." I sigh and she smiles at me. I get a call and answer it seeing its George.

"Hey could you come down to the shop? Ron set off fireworks after falling and there might be a hole near your office. We tried fixing it but your Magic Blocker is being a pain" He tells me and I sigh. "Alright coming. You two are very much interrupting the best day of my life." I say kissing the crown of Y/n's head. "Why? What happened?" He asks and I smile at the girl in my hold. "Y/n both ate and I heard that gorgeous giggle of hers." I say smiling proudly at Y/n. She blushes slightly and I kiss her nose.

I get up to change with Y/n following closely behind after hanging up and change in our shared room as she fiddles with the sensory knickknacks. With my ADHD and her PTSD we got them to keep our minds healthy. I laugh when she throws the dollar bill squishy at me playfully. I pick it up and she smirks at me. "Pass me my wallet." She tells me and I sigh knowing what I'm getting myself into. I toss her the wallet and she opens it looking for something.

I continue getting dressed when I feel a coin hit my back. "Hey! Dollar bills!" I say tossing the coin back. "I see no such rule." She replies and I smile. "How can you annoy the hell out of me but make me fall so much harder..." I mumble and she smiles. "Its cause I pay good." She quips, tossing a coin at me. I finally get my belt fixed and I walk over. I pick her up and drop her onto our bed. I kiss her neck and she giggles as I tickle her lightly. "I love you so much..." I whisper and she kisses my cheek. "Not as much as I love you." She whispers back.

I get fully dressed and I watch as she disappears into the closet and returns, first eyes searching for me quickly and when she finds me she walks over hugging me. "Ready to go?" I ask and she nods.

Y/n's POV:

I walk into the shop with Fred as we walk out into the streets of Diagon Alley. "Busy street today." He mutters worried and I nod, holding onto his hand tightly. "Don't worry. If we lose each other, meet me at the shop. You know the way." He tells me and I nod silently.

We set off and halfway I lose him in the crowd. I look around scared. My heart beats faster and faster as the seconds pass. "Fred?" I say loudly and get no response. My heart starts to go faster than I've ever felt. "Fred?" I say, tears forming in my eyes.

What if he gets kidnapped again?

What if he's hurt?

What if I get kidnapped?

What if Fred has to go through the same as I did?

What if-

I rush to the shop and go into the bathroom, locking the door as I fall to the ground crying. My heart beating faster than it should. I try to breath but no air is allowed down my throat. Tears fall from my eyes and I cry harder.

I need to go back and look for him.

Stop being a coward.

He could be hurt.

God I can't move.

What if me being a coward causes the last of the Deatheaters kidnap him again?

I can't lose him-

"Y/n? Darling?" I hear and I wipe my tears, quickly standing up shakily. I unlock the door and smile at a distressed Fred. "Hey I just had to fix my makeup." I say and his frown deepens. "C'mere." He says holding his arms open. I stop before hugging him and take a step back. "How do I know?" I ask and he sighs. "I got some Veritaserum in the back if you'd like that." He tells me and I run into his arms, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry." I cry softly into his chest and he kisses my head. "I'm here for you every step of the way. For better and worse." He whispers into my head softly.

"Now it's time to deal with my idiot brother's mistakes."

***

Fred comes into the apartment and smiles happily. "Lovey!!!" He says and I smile brightly at him. I hold up my now empty plate and he wraps his arms, one hand holding his briefcase, around me. "I made you some too!" I tell him and he looks at the coffee table. "I can't believe I was lucky enough to marry you..." He whispers in my ear and I smile. "I can agree." I tell him, kissing his nose. It's been two years since he got back and I finally got better. I started talking again, laughing, hugging, all because I had my loving husband next to me the whole time. I still have some issues with him leaving but not as bad as before.

"How was work?" I ask as he sits down, starting to eat. "Good. Missed you though." He tells me and I smile, laying on his lap as he devours his food. I unbutton his shirt and pull up the t-shirt underneath, I put my head under the cloth and kiss his scars lightly as he rubs my hair lightly. "I love you my crazy lady." He tells me and I pull my head away, smiling at him goofily. "I love you my red haired boy."

#fred weasley #canon #george weasley #fred and goerge weasley #fred and george #hermione granger #ron weasley #Fears #hogwarts #gryffindor #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #slytherin #smut x reader #fred weasley x reader

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blonde-freckles · 4 years ago

Text

And darling I will be loving you 'til we're 70

He can feel the building begin to shake under his feet before it comes down. He only has a split second to dive under the closest table, with barely a moment to check his surroundings before it happens. The room shakes, windows rattling as the walls come crumbling down around him. It’s all a blur, thick dust clouding his vision. He can hear the screams echoing out across the building before it falls to silence, he’s trapped encased in rubble and dust. He hears the faint squeak of his radio struggling to pick up a channel through the collapse.

He can feel the panic starting to crawl up his lungs as he shifts his weight, so he's no longer holding it all on his knees.

He’s half way through calling in his location when Hailey’s voice cuts off the radio. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What the hell Jay? I thought you were waiting.” He can hear the desperation in her voice as he squeezes his eyes shut trying to control his breathing.

“I’m okay...really, it’s barely a scratch. I’m just a little stuck right now.” He lets out a shaky breath before pulling the radio close to himself, he’s not sure who’s he’s trying to convince, himself or Hailey. “I thought...I thought I could talk him out of it.”

He really thought he could. He thought he had this. There was something about military cases that stirred something up in him, something no amount of hour sin therapy could ever fix. His need to help his brothers. The belief that what they’d seen bonded them in a way that would never be able to be broken, and no matter how many times he got burnt by this belief he never gave up trying.

The radio falls silent but he knows she’s there, he can hear her quiet breaths through the radio. “Fire is on the way Jay.” Her voice is quiet and controlled and in full work mode but all Jay can hear is her quiet breathing. This morning he’d spent the first few minutes of his day just watching her breathe, his arms wrapped so tightly around her, their legs tangled under the soft white sheets as the sunlight filtered through. Their warm little bubble, so safe and secure.

“Help...” A quiet voice breaks out drawing Jay's attention, it’s faint but he can hear it. “Help me please...”

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to work out the direction the pleas for help are coming from. He makes out a small gap in the distruction where the light is filtering in, carefully he reattaches his radio to his duty rig, shuffling down on his stomach, he pulls himself forward through the gap.

A steel beam lays across an elderly gentleman's legs, he looks late 70s maybe, with light grey hair now covered in dust, his hands holding tightly around the beam desperately pushing against it.

“Sir...” Jay jumps into action, crawling faster as he makes his way through the gap. “Sir are you all right?”

His brain kicks into work mode, shutting off any lingering thoughts on not making it out of here alive as he assesses this situation. The mans bleeding pretty heavily, his legs crushed on the beam that might be the only thing stopping him from bleeding out. It’s far too heavy for Jay to lift or even try to shift, instead he manages to use his belt as a makeshift tourniquet.

He calls through the radio, listening intently as Brett comes over the air waves to get an idea of the gentleman’s injuries. When Jay does manage to finally slow the bleeding the radio crackles back to silence and Jay looks down at his blood stained hands, wiping them on his jeans in the hopes the gentleman won’t see just how much there is as he sits beside him.

“You’re a detective you say?”

“Yes...erm sorry I never got your name.”

“Arthur Brady...I would say nice to meet you but...” The man half chuckles as Jay gives him a short nod wondering how he could be so chipper in a moment like this, surely he can feel the extent of his injuries, even if he can't he can definitely see the severity of the situation.

“Whatever you do Jay keep him talking until we get there.”

Bretts words echo in his mind.

“Arthur...Arthur talk to me...tell me what brought you here today.”

Time seems to tick by slowly, the faint crackle of Jays radio fading in and out every so often. Fire had arrived, but it was gonna be a long wait until they could get to them. The building was not on steady ground and the aim was to get as many people out alive as possible, however long that took. Hailey's voice had only come through the radio once more in that time, just to say the bomber's body had been pulled from the wreckage near the exit...he hadn’t made it. In the meantime Jay continues to probe Arthur with more questions in the hope it will keep him awake, but he’s also glad for the distraction that it provides him. Sitting still, having nothing to do...that’s never been Jay's speed. He learns that Arthur was at the bank to get some cash out for his granddaughters 21s birthday, he has two daughters and a son and 6 grandchildren. He was a wedding photographer for 47 years before he retired 10 years ago.

“My wife Katherine...oh she’s beautiful. You know we’ve been married 53 years this year..." Arthur explains as he pulls a worn leather wallet from his top pocket, handing it over. Jay could see the old photo inside, it’s slightly faded but he can make out the image of a bride on her wedding day, the vail thrown back over her hair to reveal her smiling brightly at someone behind the camera.

"So what's the secret to making it work?" Jay questions, his gaze falling back to his own phone and the photo of Hailey that lights up his background. He’d dragged her along on a hike a while back, with the promise of getting doughnuts after. She’d been laughing at something he’d said as the sun went down behind her, making her blonde curls glow and he’d snapped the pic before she’d had a chance to protest.

"Marry your best friend. Marry someone you can laugh with. The kind of laugh that makes your belly ache, and your nose snort. Marriage is hard. Life is harder. There are days when you'll wanna walk but as long as your relationship is buried deep in friendship you'll always find your way. You think you might know someone like that?" Arthur asks with a slight twinkle in his eye as he nods towards the phone in Jay's hand.

Jay nods, a soft smile growing on his face as he runs his thumb across the photo on his screen, handing Arthur back his own photo. “Yeah I think I do...and she’s almost guaranteed to be just outside this building right now, she’s gonna be so pissed at me for being here.”

“I don’t think Katherine will be too happy either...will you...will you tell me about her?...what’s her name?” He nods down towards Jay's phone again.

“Hailey.” Jay whispers softly, he can already see her arms folded across her chest, tapping her foot impatiently on the street, eyes trained on every person emerging from the wreckage. Honestly what he wouldn’t give to hear her knowing tone telling him that she’s sick of hospital waiting rooms right now.

“She sort of came out of nowhere, I wasn’t really looking for anything when we met, actually...there was someone else when we met. I couldn’t even tell you the moment everything changed...trust me I’ve tried to work it out but it’s just like one day she was my partner and friend and the next she was the one person I could never live without. I remember looking over at her years ago and thinking I could lose all this...this job. This job that I’ve let define me for so long but it wouldn’t matter as long as I was with her.”

“Sounds like you’re in deep...How come you’re not married?”

“Oh we haven’t been dating that long...I...we still have some things to figure out.” Jay swallows, if he’s honest he’d marry Hailey tomorrow. He’d have married her six months ago given the chance. As soon as they started dating he knew he couldn’t ever imagine spending his life with someone else. He knew it a week in, he’d come in from an early morning run to find her sitting on the kitchen island coffee cup in hand, his t-shirt hanging loosely on her body as she read the morning news. She’d handed him his coffee without so much as a second glance and he’d known in that exact moment. It had taken everything in him not to get down on one knee right then and there.

Things had changed since their first I love you, he was even more careful with her. He didn’t want her to be overwhelmed, he wanted to help her in any way he could. She was trying, really trying and she had gotten good at letting him know when she felt flustered by their relationship, when she needed space or when she needed reassurance. He was all too happy to comply, he was happy to do whatever it took to make this work.

“Don’t waste time...not with the people you love.” The sad look on Arthur’s face like he’s almost defeated makes Jay think the elder man might be close to giving up as his eyes flicker shut briefly.

“Tell me more about Katherine.” Jay urges, he wraps a hand around Arthur's wrist, checking his pulse as he does. It’s weak.

“She’s the dream. I was a New Yorker you see, born and bread...was only here for a wedding 54 years ago when I saw her through the window of a cafe”

“And you knew right then and there?”

“God no.” Arthur begins to laugh but it turns into him choking as he struggles to catch his breath. “I don’t believe in love at first sight. Love...real true love takes work and a lot of it. You’ve got to choose that person every single day.” He croaks out, his eye sparkling as he recalls the memory in his mind. “What I did know was she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I was a young man at the time, full of a confidence I had no real right having.” Jay chuckles, he’s been there, the cocky confident guy in his 20s thinking he knew it all. “I could never have known the love that would’ve formed, so deep it almost shook me to my core. I’d never been in love before, but I’d seen others, especially in my line of work and then I got it, I got why people behave the way they did. I remember thinking if this is what love feels like I get why it starts wars.” He’s words trail off and Jay watches the way his head drops slightly.

“Hey, Arthur...Arthur we’re almost out you hear me. Stay with me now Arthur. Katherine is waiting, she's still waiting for you.”

“Will you tell her...”

Jay shakes his head furiously. Leaning up as he twists his radio, calling out for an update. “No no...I’m not going to pass on any messages.” He mumbles, grabbing hold of both Arthur’s shoulders. “You’re gonna tell her Arthur...Katherines waiting for you.”

“You tell her I loved her and that she made my world a better place.” He mutters before his eyes roll back and Jay begins to bark down his radio desperate for anyone to respond.

It is only seconds later the loud ringing of a drill sounds and Kelly Severide’s voice echoes around them. Jay can feel the relief flooding through him as the familiar uniform comes into view.

“Jay...” The bright sunlight is a stark contrast from the darkness he’d been buried in the last few hours, the buzz of the scene hitting him is almost deafening as he hears orders being shouted out. “Jay...” Hailey’s voice stands out amongst the noise. As he steps out away from the building, he’s ushered past the destruction zone and he can hear Brett asking him to sit but he’s too focused on finding Hailey as he scans that area.

He hears more commotion behind him watching with bated breath as Arthur is pulled from the rubble, he’s attached to a bodyboard, as the next set of paramedics rush to his aid.

He doesn't even see her approach before he feels her arms wrapping tightly around him, he releases a breath he’s been holding since the building first blew as his arms wind themselves around her waist, he sticks his face into the side of her neck letting the wisps of blonde that’s fallen loose from her ponytail tickle his face as he does. They’ve never been ones for any type of public affection, while they’re on the clock anyway but right now he can’t bring himself to care. He breaks away after a while, already missing her touch but he knows they have an audience. He watches as they lower Arthur down onto the gurney wheeling him their way.

“Is this her...is this your Hailey?” He coughs, struggling as they place the oxygen mask over his mouth.

Jay can see Hailey glance his way, shooting him a silent question. “Yeah, this is her.” Jay nods, crouching down closer to Arthur.

“I’m gonna go get Katherine okay? I’m gonna bring her to you Arthur so don’t go anywhere.” Jay grips hold of Arthur’s hand, making sure the man sees the sincerity in his eyes as Sylvie lets him know that they need to move now. “Take care of my girl and I’ll take care of yours okay?” Jay asks, glancing back at Hailey who’s just watching silently.

“Deal...”

He steps back letting them get him into the ambulance as he turns back to Hailey. He can see from the look on her face she has a lot to say and he’ll happily listen to everything but just not right now. “Hey I’m okay I promise I’m okay and I'll sit and get a full checkout at the hospital just to please you but first I have something to do, please just trust me and keep Arthur company until I get to the hospital.”

“Erm sure okay...”

Jay smiles as she agrees without question, pressing a firm kiss on Hailey's forehead surprising her before he’s rushing off through the crowd without another word.

Hailey loses sight of Jay almost as quickly as she finds him, her heart is still thumping in her chest as she tries to keep reminding herself that he's alive, he’s alive and safe and doing whatever the hell he does. She'd done as he asked, joining the man he'd been pulled from the rubble with into the ambulance.

The ambulance roars into life and she watches as the elderly man begins to pull down his oxygen mask much to the dismay of the newest recruit to 51, his hand shaking as it reaches out for Haileys.

She takes his hand in hers. It’s cold but it squeezes onto hers tightly. She’d heard the tail end of their conversation. “You take care of my girl...I’ll take care of yours.” She’s not sure what Jay has planned but she trusts him, no questions asked.

“That man loves you more than life itself dear.” Arthur croaks and the tears that she refused to let fall in front of all their colleagues finally fall, splashing against her cheeks, his words catching her off guard.

The E.R is a mess, overrun with victims from the blast, no one can tell her anything as Arthur is rushed off for surgery, she’s not family, she has no right to know. So instead she takes a seat in the corner out of the way of the chaos.

She thinks she might be dreaming when he finally emerges through the doors, still dressed in his blood-stained clothes, an elderly woman holding tightly to his arm as he leads her through the crowd and towards the front desk. His eyes find hers quickly like he doesn’t even need to search for her, he just knows where she is and the small smile that plays on his lips as their eyes meet is enough for her.

It’s hours later when Katherine and Arthur are finally reunited. Jay helps Katherine towards his room, stopping in the doorway as Hailey hangs back. She’s still not sure what the infinity with this couple is but she’ll go along with it if that’s what Jay wants.

“That’s gonna be us one day.” He mutters quietly as the door slips shut and he steps back out into the hallway. Hailey raises her eyebrows in surprise as Jay makes his way around her, his arms encircling her waist as he leans his chin on top of her head. Both of them watching the elderly couple through the window. The way Katherine caresses Arthur’s face as he presses a kiss to her hand. The look of pure joy to see each other is so evident in their faces.

“Minus the major bleed and building collapse I hope.” She hums, leaning back into his embrace, finally feeling at ease as the weight of the day seems to slip away.

He nestles his face into her neck, pressing a light kiss to her skin. “I make no promises...”

“Hey...” she laughs, shaking her head as she places her hands on top of his, she can feel his lip quirk up into a grin against her neck and it makes her own lips turn up. “How are we going to grow old together if you keep being so reckless?”

“That’s what you love about me.”

Hailey turns in his arms, slipping her arms around his waist, one hand stroking his back softly. “I assure you it’s not...but I do love you.” She whispers the last part, she still struggles to say the words but each time she does it feels a little easier, like the words that were once so dark get a shade lighter each time she says them or hears them fall from his lips.

She watches as Jay takes a sharp breath, before resting his forehead against hers, closing his eyes softly just breathing her in. “I’m gonna say something. It’s not a question it’s just a thought...okay? I’m giving you fair warning for when the time comes.”

Hailey narrows her eyes but nods anyway, letting him pull her to the side as the hallway becomes busier. “I love you...you’re my best friend and...”

“And?”

“And I’m gonna marry you one day.”

Her blue eyes widen for a second and Jay bites down on his lips to stop the smile that comes every time he looks at her. He can see the thoughts whirling through her mind like waves crashing around the ocean. He feels her arms squeeze his waist a little tighter before she simply shrugs. “Okay...” she mumbles , laying her head back against his chest as she turns her gaze back towards Arthur and Katherine. They stand there for a moment in silence and he wonders if she can see what he can...a glimpse at their future. His thoughts are confirmed when he feels her lips pressed to his cheek curling up into a smile against him. “Okay...I’ll marry you one day.”

#Upstead #Upstead fanfic #Upstead oneshot #upstead fanfiction #hailey x jay #jay halstead #jay x hailey #hailey upton #tracy spiridakos #jesse lee soffer #chicago pd fic #Chicago pd #onechicago

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 41)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: This was difficult to write, burnout hit me hard. But I like the result, and I hope you like it too. Ik I said I was going to stray from Saturday updates, but here we are, I am apparently once again/still on Saturday updates

Also, remember Persephone is depicted as a woman almost-always wearing a red veil to cover her face, since it is symbolic of the veil brides wore in Ancient Greece.

You open your eyes, but all you can see is red. No, that isn’t right. Everything you see is tainted red, like you’re looking through a piece of stained glass.

Somewhere at your back there’s a laugh, melodic but cold, but you don’t bother turning, you know she isn’t there. Instead, you step forward, and the ground under your feet trembles, as if the earth is split in two.

There’s the faintest of touches on your face, the uncertain caress of hands not used to gentleness; and there’s the most familiar call of your name, even if it will forever sound foreign.

You see him past the red, you make out the shape of his lips, and the curve of his nose. But you miss the blue of his eyes.

And you lift the veil.

When you open your eyes you almost expect to have the world be tainted red, but you shake off those thoughts before you are fully awake.

You settle better in your place, feeling your hair uncharacteristically restrained. It is then that you remember the loose and half-done braid Ivar wove into your hair last night, that has surprisingly held through the night. These people and their damn braids.

When you turn around in your place you find your husband still asleep, turned on his side towards you, one arm stretched towards you.

Eyelids heavy, you find how easy it would be to just drift off again. But you don’t want to fall asleep yet, you want to linger in this world between worlds, between awake and asleep, for a while longer. For the first time, though, you realize that there is no reason to wish to live in that world between worlds.

For the first time, your dreams do not haunt you with the uncertain future that hangs by a choice that as time went on seemed less and less like a choice you could stand to make, and the world you wake up to isn’t stained with the ever-persistent reminder of the borrowed time you lived in.

For the first time, the dreams speak of a choice made, and the world around you -unchanged, even if it is so different from before- is the result of that choice.

Blinking past the daze that threatens to pull you back under, you focus on the man sleeping by your side, and you feel your lips pulling into a lazy smile.

You remember those first mornings you spent in the same bed as him, how you’d linger hopelessly on Ivar’s features, relaxed in sleep, eyes guiltily taking in what your pride didn’t let you while he was awake, categorizing each faint scar and angle.

From the slope of his brow, to the straight line of his nose, down to his lips -lips that on that first night spent as husband and wife you kissed, lips that you longed to kiss again each night since-.

You truly don’t want to wake him, but you cannot remain idle, and restless fingers trail over his own, tracing the back of his hand, up to his forearm and the arm-ring he wears.

Your eyes follow the wanderings of your hand, and your attention is drawn to the glint of your wedding ring in the low light. It has been quite a while you have worn it, and yet, strangely, it almost feels like the first time.

Maybe that is what it should have been, maybe this is what your first morning as husband and wife should have been. Quiet, and love, and peace. Even if Ivar always disturbs the first one and claims to detest the last one.

Your fingers continue trailing up, and you are done pretending you don’t intend to wake him when you reach his head, and let your fingers trail aimlessly through Ivar’s hair, down to his face, the ghost of a caress over his cheek.

With a low hum from somewhere in his chest, Ivar turns his face towards your caress, the hand previously stretched between you reach up to softly grasp at your wrist.

It’s the blind acceptance of your affection, the subtle seeking of it, that makes your chest pull tight. It’s the blue of his eyes when he blinks past the draw of sleep to focus on you that robs you of breath.

And, as usual, it is your name leaving his lips in a sigh that makes you want to thank the Gods for this, for him.

“Stop waking me up when you’re bored.” He grumbles, making a foolish smile pull at your lips.

“I am not,” You argue, “I missed you.”

His eyebrows raise, and the face he makes tells you he doesn’t believe you, but there’s still lingering softness in him when he moves the hand he trapped with his won against the side of his face and places it before his mouth, breathing a kiss over your knuckles.

“Missed me, hm?”

“I was bored of missing you, perhaps.” You concede finally.

You have missed him, if you are honest. Missed what it was like before you told him about the Greeks, when he didn’t stop himself from reaching for you, when those barriers you were once so interested in studying and crossing had become dust, when the fear of the choice you’d make was a distant one.

Even if it has been a couple of weeks since you told him, you have already found a certain routine, even in the wavering certainties, and you know that you never have to miss him for long.

Still, that is over. Once the words are able to leave your lips, once you are able to find a way to prove that your choice is him; then you won’t have to miss him for long, at least not like that.

“I didn’t tell you, last night. I tried to.”

Pulled away from your musings, you hum in question, “Tell me what?”

“You make me happy,” He tells you, a flickering smile that is so unusual, so young, that your heart skips a beat. Ivar’s eyes are unusually soft when he gazes at you, “Happier than I ever thought I could be.”

His father one told him happiness is nothing, and when Ivar told you of those words, he also told you he hasn’t really known what happiness feels like. It broke your heart then, and it still does, even if now it soars to hear these words.

“Is it nothing, then?”

His eyebrows raise, the smile is a tad more playful now, and tone light even if the words aren’t, “It is still terrifying.”

“Doesn’t that mean it is a good thing? Something worth keeping?”

“Weaknesses aren’t good things.”

“Not everything is about war.”

“Who said anything about war?” He retorts just as easily as you, the beginning of a smug smile on his lips, that you only roll your eyes at.

Ivar clears his throat, and when he speaks again his voice is quiet once again.

“It…keeps me awake, sometimes. Losing this. Kattegat, my brothers, the army,” A pause, and then, “You.

Your heart squeezes in your chest, because in all the things he did, he never made you doubt you had him. I am yours he told you last night, but you have known for a long time, since before he put a ring on your finger, that there were few things that could make you lose him.

“You already know that,” He states, voice soft, strangely muted. “I have told you so much already, sometimes I wonder if you really did bewitch me.

Your lips pull into a lazy smile, and you offer a non-committal shrug. Ivar’s mouth curves on one side, and he reaches for you, his hand rough but warm on the side of his face.

His thumb brushes gently -with a gentleness that is particular to him, you dare think, one that belongs to someone that isn’t used to much gentleness at all- under your eye when you lean into his touch, and you sigh.

“I…I never thought I’d have this, not really. Even if I had, I couldn’t have known it would feel like this,” For such a vague use of the word ‘this’, you find yourself understanding what he means, and yet you offer nothing but silence, expectant. “All my life, I would…I would watch them. My brothers, the other men. I had no choice but to watch. I knew I could never be like them, so I watched,” Ivar’s eyes fall from yours, and his gaze and his mind are lost in a place you weren’t fast enough to meet him at, in a life you were too late to be a part of. “And I would watch them with…with their wives, and how they would wait for them at the docks when they returned from a raid, and how they wouldn’t hesitate to touch or…” His brow furrows slightly, as if he is searching for the words, “-love them, and…it would feel like seeing a fire from afar. I knew it had to feel warm, I knew it had to feel…safe, and-…but I couldn’t know, not really. I couldn’t feel the warmth, I didn’t feel-…”

When his eyes focus on you again, you cannot help but hope the words he doesn’t say speak of how somehow you have been able to give the same he has you, and the warmth isn’t so distant just like the cold of Kattegat isn’t so biting for you.

You remember that first night as husband and wife, the faintest of trembles in his voice when he voiced a plea and tried making it sound like a command. Kiss me, he had asked you. You did, and now with distance your pride lets you admit you never quite forgot how he stilled under your gentle touch and how even then he leant towards the affection.

It would have been easier to hate him if the hunger would have been something he had no qualms about demanding be satiated. It would have been easier to forget he is human if out of all the things he could have asked for he hadn’t asked for softness.

Ivar continues,

“I would imagine it, sometimes. What it would be like, what it would feel like, to have a woman that would l-love me,” You don’t fail to notice the way his voice changes at those words, as if even saying it means something you could never truly understand. Your left hand reaches between you, fingers carefully tracing the side of his face. Ivar answers to your caress with a soft smile, but it turns rueful after a breath, “Pathetic, isn’t it? Poor Ivar, begging the Gods for someone to love him.”

Your chest pulls tight at his words, and you frown, affronted.

“There’s nothing pathetic about being human, you know,” You chastise, and Ivar meets your eyes, an anger that you know well, that you are familiar with by now, shining in his gaze. The anger of having shown more than what your pride wants you to, the anger of being more human than you would like to be. One of the first things you noticed about him was how he shared pieces of him as if he couldn’t do anything but, as if secrets and pain escaped his grip like sand, and left his lips as if you truly were what they say you are, and had bewitched him. That never changed, and you hope it never does. But the anger, the anger that looks a lot like apprehension, like pain; you hope that leaves. For now, you can do nothing but offer the beginning of a smile, “And I won’t let you speak of my husband like that.”

This time when his smile widens and softens, it remains that way. Ivar’s eyebrows raise slightly as he looks at you, defiance shining in his eyes in a way that makes a small chuckle leave your lips.

Gods, you love him.

His hand, rough and always warmer, grasps the one that cups the side of his face, and brings your fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckle right over your wedding ring. You have worn it for so long, and so many things have changed since he first put it on your finger, but you honestly can’t remember what it was like not wearing the gold band of engraved flowers you can trace with your fingers and engraved promises that aren’t so apparent.

“When I first saw you, in that field near Dublin, you…” His eyes lift to meet yours, before his gaze returns to your hand, and the gold ring that adorns it. “I saw you with that Greek, you were being so gentle towards him, so loving, so…warm. And then…” A short chuckle leaves his lips, still lost in the memory, “Then you took down a Viking with a shield that weighed more than you do, and one arrow.”

You chuckle, “I was lucky.”

“You were…” His eyes return to yours and the words die on his lips. When your smile widens as you wait for him to continue, his attention is diverted to your lips. You wonder if he is seeing in you the memory of that day. A little lost, a little dazed, he finishes, “A vision.”

Your heart does a strange thing on your chest, as if it were shocked off a regular rhythm by his words, and now stutters and stumbles to return to normalcy.

You offer a smile, and the faint squeeze of your hand on his as you tease softly,

“I am very much real, Ivar.”

A slow blink, and you wonder if he even heard you.

“You-…that day, you seemed like everything I ever wanted. Not just seemed like it, you were,” He confesses, a movement on his jaw to indicate he doubts whether he should continue. A few breaths go by until finally, his voice quiet, Ivar says, “You still are.”

“And you are everything I want.” You confess quietly, your heart suddenly beating a tad quicker, because the words you have known you have to say for a day now are at the tip of your tongue.

If we name things, we make them real, you told him once, the same words he reminded you of last night, when he jested you should remind him of your love more often.

But it is true, what you told him. The stories of your Gods, they were made real because someone spoke them, shared them. The vows you made, to take revenge against Stithulf, to accept Ivar as your husband; they made a promise real because they asked it to be spoken aloud.

And there is one more promise you must make real now.

You reach for the clasp at the back of your neck, taking off the pendant that has hung from your neck since you were old enough to remember. The twelve Olympians and the chthonic Gods in a small circle metal, with an inscription at the back, bend to the Fates, but don’t let them break you.

You lean up on one elbow, and hold the pendant between you, offering it to Ivar who only watches with curious eyes.

“When my father gave this to my mother, it was…a promise. They taught me that whatever promises are made before the Gods mean nothing if we aren’t willing to make promises of our own, on our own. This always meant a promise,” Your eyes linger on the engraving depicting the twelve Olympians and the chthonic Gods. When you speak next, your words are a promise of your own, even if under the fickle and transparent veil of speaking of the promises your parents made. “A promise to spend a lifetime side by side, and, if the Gods are merciful, an eternity after. I can’t…I can’t promise to find you in the life after this one, but I can promise to be with you for the rest of this life.

And now that you voice it, it is something so close to being true, to being real, that you think you may understand what he meant about that distant warmth.

Only this is different, this is a fire you can -and will, not Fate itself can stop you- get close enough to so you can truly feel its warmth.

“I-I want you to have this. My promise to you, my promise that…my choice will always be you.”

Ivar remains frozen, eyes on you as piercing as they were across a battlefield, yet as vulnerable as they were when you first told him you loved him.

Swallowing tightly, caught between assuming he doesn’t believe you or something worse, you take his hand.

Once, you stood next to him overlooking Kattegat, breathed past your hesitation and reached to put your hand over his, hoping and dreading the return of the hold. And now, just like then, he turns his hand to meet your own, pliant at your touch.

You place the pendant on the palm of his hand.

“Yo-You-…I don’t…” A breath that sounds somewhere between a gasp and choked inhale, “Y-You don’t have to choose yet.”

I am living on borrowed time as much as you are, you told him once. This is the first time you realize how true that was.

For as much as you usually babble on about things, now words seem to fail you, and with your heart beating wildly in your chest all you can offer is the smallest quirk of your mouth. One of the few times you are able to render him speechless, and you’re not allowed to enjoy it.

“I have made my choice. If Stithulf died today, nothing would change,” You tell him, as simply as you can put the choice that changes both your lives. “I want to spend the rest of my days with you.”

His eyes are wide, wider than you have ever seen them, and yet he remains deadly still. You dare think he isn’t even breathing.

Eventually, when Ivar speaks, it sounds rough and ragged, like he hasn’t spoken in a hundred years.

“They want you with them, they will come find you.”

“Again. They will come find me again,” You remind him slowly, “And just like I did before, I will say no.”

His eyes harden, “Why?”

“I love you, more than…more than anything,” At his silence, your heart stops and your brow furrows, “Do you not believe me?”

His eyes search yours, none of the franticness that coated his words gone from his eyes, where it only seems to simmer and heighten, where more than the search for truth you dare think he desperately looks for a lie.

Maybe believing you are lying would be easier, maybe believing what you say isn’t going to hold would be easier. Real things can be taken from you.

Past the clear tell of gritted teeth, Ivar insists, not answering your question,

“They will return to Greece when winter passes.”

“And I will still be here.” You reply, easily.

A breath, and the faintest of questions,

“You’re staying with me?”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

“No matter what?”

“I would think I’ve proved I’m stubborn already.” You whisper, the jest a little lost in the way your voice swells with emotion.

Ivar holds your gaze, determined even if searching your eyes desperate for certainty, unwavering even if his brow trembles and so do his hands.

“Promise me.” He says. A dare, a command, a plea.

With your own left hand lifted to your lips, you press a kiss against your wedding ring, the closest you would ever have to a piece of jewelry where you are to vow something before the Gods themselves.

“I promise.”

His breath leaves him in something between a sigh and a gasp, a small, incredulous little smile curving his lips before it too falls.

You don’t have time to take in the way his expression falls, falls with something like relief, something like joy, something like love; because he leans forward, capturing your mouth with his in a kiss that makes everything but him disappear.

Your mouth moves against his with ease, not missing a beat in surrendering to the feel of him, your hands holding on to his shoulders with feather-light softness, while his grip tightly at whatever part of you he can find, a muffled sound that sounds a lot like a whimper when he presses closer, not accepting even an inch of space between you.

Before long you are on your back, and his arms cage you against the bed. His weight is a comfortable one over you, especially when your tongue teases at his and you make his strength falter, make Ivar pull away with something shaped like your name but that sounds like a prayer leaving his lips.

The shine in his eyes when he pulls back just a bit speaks of love, of gratitude, of relief; and it makes tears clog at your throat. How could there exist a world where you leave this, leave him, behind?

Ivar takes a breath, his chest expanding under your hands, reaching up with one hand to put your hair behind your ear, making your eyes flutter shut and the soft caress.

You barely have to tilt your head towards him when he is obeying the silent command, leaning down to kiss you again, this time letting you control the kiss, surrendering to the feel of you with a sigh that makes your stomach tighten.

His lips part from yours when the smile that curves at his mouth refuses to give way, and you breathe a little laugh at the still shocked joy written in his expression, from the faint red tint in his cheeks and ears to the way his eyes glisten and shine a tad more vibrant.

Ivar leans closer and kisses you again, a short press of his lips on yours before he whispers quietly, a secret even if it never was one,

“I love you,” You return the same, the words never more freeing as they leave your lips, and something in between a shaky sigh and a delighted chuckle leaves his lips. Holding your face gently in between shaking hands, he presses his brow against yours, “I-I’ll make you happy, I’ll-…anything you want, you’ll have it.”

The promises that leave his lips in between frantic kisses feel like vows that you won’t regret this, like reassurances that he will make sure the choice is worthwhile.

But it always was, just for this alone. For the feel of his arms around you, for the intoxicating taste of his lips, for the way your name sounds in his voice.

“All I want is you.”

“You have me.” There’s not a moment of hesitation, but the words -the certainty, the truth, the slight tremble in his voice and in his hands- make your heart pull tight in your chest.

Your eyes meet his and you promise, “And you have me.”

____ ____ ____

I hope you like this, and that I’m not too rusty after my little hiatus lol. Would love to know what you think!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @chibisgotovalhalla @the-a-word-2214 @fae-sedai @crazybunnyladysworld @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside @aprilivar @msrawog

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

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10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat · 3 years ago

Text

What I See

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x GN Medic Reader

Premise: My musings here resulted in this. You're a medic in the 501st who works closely with Kix. At first you think the crush you have on him is one-sided, until one day you look through his sketchbook and are surprised by a portrait he drew.

Word Count: ~2.2k

Rating: G

Other notes: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like clones

AO3

Being an army medic had its ups and downs, its slower periods and bursts of intense stressful activity. You wouldn’t trade it for anything though. The pay was better than what you earned as a civilian medical worker, your patients were much more agreeable (even though there was the occasional trooper who insisted he was fighting fit when he was still far from being so) and your coworkers were professional and easy to get along with. One coworker in particular was your favorite, and you looked forward to the shifts you shared with him.

When you first met Kix, you admired him for the love and care he showed his fellow clones and commanding officers. The two of you quickly developed a rapport; he always laughed at the bad jokes you made, and you liked to challenge him to competitions to see who could restock supply shelves in the med bay the fastest … he always won, but every time you’d stick your tongue out at him and say “I’ll get you next time!” and he would only respond with a knowing smirk.

During down time, when there were no patients and paperwork was handled, Kix would sit at his desk with a leather-bound book and a pencil. It was an odd at first, seeing the rich brown leather and sheets of paper in an austerely sterile all-white setting filled with holopads and technology, but it also looked right in his hands. Without meaning to, you’d sometimes watch as he focused intensely on whatever he was scribbling into the book, brow furrowed in concentration as he worked.

“Jesse teases me and tells me I should just take pictures,” he explained one day as he showed you some drawings in his book, “but I find this relaxing.” He flipped to a sketch of a grassy plain with mountains in the background. You marveled at the details: the colors and shading on the mountains looked like sunlight glistening off their stony faces, the grass looked so realistically textured you thought it would feel like the real thing if you touched it, and he even added some wildflowers as well.

After seeing the meticulous designs he shaved into his hair, it was no surprise that Kix was an artist.

“Looks like it could be a picture,” you commented.

“Fives said something similar once, when we were down on Felucia he caught me drawing this-“ he flipped through the book to show you a drawing of a wide-trunked tree with large drooping leaves. “I just draw what I see,” he added with a shrug.

“You’re really talented though, the best I can draw is a stick figure.”

Kix cracked a small smile. “That was once the best I could do too,” he said.

The way his lips curved in his smile, the way his eyes shone as he looked at you - in that moment you realized just how beautiful he was. Sure, he was good-looking – all the clones were – but he stood out to you.

There was no use denying it, you had a crush on him.

Before there was a chance for your thoughts to betray you in any way, Kix’s comm beeped. “Duty calls,” he said, closing his sketchbook and stashing it in a drawer under his desk. He then stood up and made his way to his station, and you followed suit. Whatever was about to come into the med bay, it would keep you busy enough to distract yourself … so you hoped.

It had to be strictly professional between yourself and Kix, you reminded yourself as the first wave of injured troopers came into the medbay. Besides, given how quickly he could turn on a heel from artist to medic like that demonstrated how dedicated he was to his work, you knew he would never let anything get in the way of his duty.

Four rotations went by. Kix went on a mission with the rest of Torrent Company, leaving you to manage the med bay on your own during your shift. It was more of the same, really … but you thought about him more than you would care to admit. Of course, you always thought about him when he went on missions, you told yourself. Everyone worried about their coworkers, right? Especially if there was a chance they might not come back?

He always came back, you told yourself. This time wouldn’t be any different.

Only it was both more of the same and different. You were working on paperwork when the med bay doors suddenly flew open, and troopers began pouring in. As soon as you commed some off-duty medics to report to the med bay, you manned the triage station so you could tend to the more critically injured troopers first. It was hectic, a flurry of stressful activity, making sure everyone who needed a bed had one and every wound and scrape was patched up. It wasn’t until everything quieted down that you found Kix in one of the beds.

Your heart dropped into your stomach when you saw him. He was asleep, undressed from the waist up with bandages and bacta patches affixed to spots on his shoulder and the side of his head, and his lower half covered with a blanket. Nodes attached to pulse points on his inner arm connected to a machine by his bed that recorded his vital signs, and everything looked normal at first glance. His chart reported a direct blaster hit to his shoulder and a graze on his head, with an expectation of a full recovery, signed off by one of the medics you called in to help. You owed that medic big time, you thought.

A glance at the nearest chronometer revealed that your shift ended three hours ago, but you couldn’t leave. You didn’t want to leave. So you grabbed a chair and pulled it over to Kix’s bed so you could sit by him. Someone had to keep an eye on him after all. It was professional courtesy, you told yourself, that was all. Besides, even though your body ached and felt heavy with exhaustion, your mind was too active and on edge for sleep.

On the floor by his bed were his things: his armor, neatly stacked and organized, next to his medical pack. Inside his pack you found his sketchbook, and you figured you could pass the time by looking at his drawings again. You found the sketch of the plain and the mountain again and took a few more minutes to admire the detail. Then the tree on Felucia, and then a tooka cat, and when you turned the page you nearly dropped the book in surprise.

Kix had drawn you. In the picture you looked off in the distance, chin propped up on your hand. The detail was incredible: the shape of your nose, your mouth, your eyebrows, all rendered with magnificent accuracy. You wondered if he drew it from memory, or used a picture as a reference, or sketched you one day on duty when you weren’t paying attention.

It had to be a picture, you decided. What you saw before you … it was an idealized version of yourself. Better-looking than anything you ever saw in the mirror.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, you heard a weak drowsy voice calling your name. You looked up and saw that Kix had woken up, his head turned towards you and his half-lidded eyes meeting yours.

“Oh- you’re awake!” you stammered, your cheeks flushing with heat as you slammed the sketchbook shut. You sprang to your feet and came to his bedside – to tend to him as a medical professional, you reminded yourself.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“My job,” you answered plainly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” he answered glibly. “But I meant, what are you doing with that?” he nodded his head best he could and glanced to the sketchbook that was still in your hand.

“Oh-“ You froze for a second. “I- sorry, I just really like your ….” Your sentence trailed off as you saw apprehension flash across his face.

“It’s fine,” Kix murmured as he averted his gaze away from you.

“I … I saw you drew me.”

“Yeah … drew that when I was away … was missing you.”

Oh. Maybe he was crushing on you too … the idea was equal parts exciting and scary.

“Missed you too,” you returned, reaching down to give his wrist a gentle squeeze. “And it’s a really good drawing of me too. Did you use a picture for reference or something?”

“Memory,” Kix said plainly.

“Wow …” You opened up the sketchbook again to your drawing and gave it another lookover. “And you made me look better than I actually do.”

“No. I told you before, I draw what I see.”

Your mouth fell open slightly in surprise, and you looked up to meet Kix’s gaze again. Tired as he was, he looked at you with a soft admiration, as if he was appreciating a fine work of art standing directly in front of him. Your mind was both full and blank at the same time, feeling flattered and treasured but at the same time unsure of how to respond to him.

“I … I’ve been putting off telling you how I feel about you,” he continued, “because –“

“Your duty comes first, I understand,” you cut him off as you sat down on the edge of the bed, turning your torso to better face him and setting the sketchbook down by his head.

“No, not that. Well, it has to, but – but that doesn’t mean I can’t want more out of life.” Kix paused. He raised his hand and reached it towards you. You responded by raising up your own hand, taking his in yours, and holding it in your lap. Your other hand came to rest on his wrist. He was so warm under your touch, soft and solid and steady. You knew that you would eventually have to let go, but you didn’t want to.

“My favorite part of the day is when I get to see you, whether it’s here or in passing somewhere on the ship,” he continued, “and on the battlefield after I got shot, as I was lying there, all I could think about was how I might never see you again.”

“Kix, I-“

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted you. “Except, if- if after the war’s over you wanted to give it a shot? You and me?”

“Yes.” The words immediately fell from your lips as your mouth widened into a smile. You didn’t even have to think about it, and the potential consequences that the higher-ups in the GAR might inflict upon the both of you for even entertaining the idea didn’t matter. It just felt right, the idea of you and him. You couldn’t begin to explain it.

Kix returned your smile. You raised his hand to your mouth and softly kissed the back of it before lowering it back down to your lap. Before you could disentangle your hands from his, he returned that gesture as well, pulling your hand that was intertwined with his to his mouth and pressing little kisses into your knuckles. The feeling of his lips on your hand sent pleasant little tingles through your skin.

“Let’s talk about it some more after you’ve recovered,” you suggested.

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed absentmindedly. He shifted slightly in bed but suddenly stopped and froze in place, his face twisting into a pained grimace and a hiss escaping through his teeth.

“You okay?” You asked, pulling your hand back to you and scanning his body for any other signs of distress.

“Yeah, just hurts is all.”

“Let me get you some painkillers.”

“No need, I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Kix, I insist.” You told him in the sternest voice you could muster.

“I have the right to refuse treatment, especially if the treatment is better spent on my brothers who are in worse shape than I am.”

He was right, he did have the right to refuse treatment. But you couldn’t bear the idea of him being in pain.

“Okay … how about a sleeping aid then? Or some water? Can I get you anything?”

“If you want to do something for me, go get some rest. I’ll still be here when you report for your next shift.”

“Ugh, fine. You drive a hard bargain.”

“Ah come on, you know you love me.” Kix said teasingly, punctuating his statement with a smirk and a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Giving him a small laugh and a half-hearted eye roll, you pushed yourself up onto your feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Before you turned to leave, you took his hand in yours again, and took a moment to gaze in his eyes. It took everything in you to not immediately start imagining a life with him after the war. There wasn’t even any guarantee there was going to be a life after the war – the cruiser you were on might be destroyed tomorrow by the Separatists for all you knew – but the idea still filled you with hope and joy. Something to look forward to with him. Something else to fight for.

#kix x reader #kix x you #clone medic kix x reader #clone medic kix #clone trooper #clone wars #star wars #my writing

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peachysnzs · 3 years ago

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genshin snz headcanons

i caved here are literally All my genshin snz headcanons cause im thinkin so hard rn

albedo

def sneezes in fits but tries to stifle whenever possible

uses his elbow most of the time, but sometimes when hes especially deep in a fit he ends up just sneezing desperately in the air

quiet and breathy

tries to make his sneezes as discrete as possible but the further in fits he gets, the more desperate his sneezes sound

every time he has a buildup to a sneeze, he kinda just shudders leadin up to it yknow

he always tries to be cautious and not get anyone sick when he is sick bless him

ok this fucker inhabits an ice mountain theres no way he doesnt get at least a *couple* colds

mona

sneezes in likes twos, threes

this is so unoriginal bcs hydro vision but like her sneezes are def at least a bit wet-sounding

uses tissues when avaliable, but if not she just kinda turns to the side

loud and high-pitched

she sneezes relatively suddenly and it takes her by surprise sometimes

tbh mona feels like somebody who’d have allergies and being all sniffly and miserable looking and still try to deny that shes allergic to anything and that youre stupid for thinking so. very tsundere.

speaking of sniffly her nose probably just constantly runs like a tap when shes sick

she wouldnt even try to keep her germs to herself and would be disgusted at sick ppl even if she was the one to get you sick

hu tao

literally almost never sneezes* but when she does its singles

uses her elbow and covers her mouth, ty hu tao for being a good snz role model

kinda low and naturally soft

long ass fucking buildups! her nose just kinda itches for a whole two minutes and her breath wavers before she sneezes quickly

so for the asterisk * i kinda lied, she sneezes up a storm only when sick, she has kinda a subpar immune systme so whenever shes sick she just is stuck with sneezng consistently through the whole day til shes dizzy

jean

also sneezes in singles, occasional doubles

alternates between using hankerchiefs if avaliable or just her elbow

i feel like jean is the type of person to like excuse herself right before succumbing to a fit

small sneezes, decently graceful

i feel like shed had a dust allergy honestly

jean literally will not take sick days even when she has awful colds, and while she tries not to get ppl sick she does a kinda awful job at it

amber

two to four usually

elbow once again, but sometimes when shes gliding she cant really use her arms so she just sneezes in the air

squeaky def, high pitched

she def has hayfever and one day opens her glider and its just covered in pollen

no build ups to her sneeze, just a sharp inhale and then the snz

eula

we already saw her snz so

either single sneezes or long ass fits, no inbetween

sneezes into her gloves, but when her sneezes start to get messy she switches to a hankerchief

breathy and feminine

cyro characters get colds cause i say so

no fr tho eula just miserable w a cold and just constantly having to duck foward and sneeze into her gloves

half of her cold is her denying shes sick even when she looks absolutely horrible and the other half is complaining about how miserable she feels and demanding people to do things for her

childe

doubles usually

he sneezes into the air or in his hands this fucker would never sneeze in his elbow

messy and desperate

long! ass! fucking! buildups! he tries to hide the hitching with his builds ups but hes not at all good at it

his sneezes get so much messier the sicker he is, until hes practically just dripping

dont be decieved by the way he hides being sick, he desperately craves being coddled whenever hes sick because of his home life

suprisingly good at caretaking

diluc

triples and quadruples i feel like

elbow primarily, but sometimes uses tissues

loud and rough

he tries so hard to hide his allergies but it never works because his sneezes are always so loud

fuck it give him all the allergies

his voice gets stuffy so quickly when even in like a five foot vicinity of flowers, and his nose itches so much to the point where it feels like hes just constantly building up to another sneeze

has probably sneezed on someones drink at least once while he had a cold

kaeya

almost only fits and he fucking hates it

he usually pinches his nose to stifle but if he cant manage he either quickly goes for the elbow or just ducks his head down and sneezes towards the floor

shaky and itchy-sounding if that makes sense

yknow that little gasp people do sometimes before sneezing i feel like hed do that

never takes sick days unless forced to by jean or diluc, and ends up shambling through his daily tasks shaky and feverish and sneezy

he tries to stifle but it really does not work

rosaria

singles, and if u catch her sneezing she’ll probably make you swear to silence

literally just in the elbow

honestly i feel like shed sneeze like a kitten, or just really high and femme

she sees being sick/allergic as a sign of weakness so fights sneezing very hard. like u can see the visible effort she makes pinching her nose and shit after her breath hitches even once

also one of those dumbasses that stifle way too much and doesnt take sickdays

ningguang

doubles unless shes allergic, then its fits

she has a fancy ass lace hankerchief she carries w her speficially for snzs to look ‘proper’

she forces her sneezes to be elegant, sneezing naturally is loud tho

small buildups but v audible breaths building up to a sneeze

she has a good immune system but when she does get sick she gets it bad and tries to cover up her flushed face and red nose with makeup

without people around her she just lets herself be miserable while sneezes, lettting out small little “..guh...” after a particularly bad fit

beidou

doubles or triples

beidou would also like never use her elbow, shed sneeze in her fist even if the sneeze is messy as hell

loud and proud of it

look all im saying is beidou is a walking health hazard whenever sick, she doesnt try at all to keep colds to herself and can and wil sneeze into her hand only to shake yours seconds later

no buildups, just sudden sneezes that scare the shit out of people tho

very very fucking messy

half the time does not care if shes sick, she doesnt really feel like she needs to take sick days because she doesnt feel that bad and stuff like that

lisa

singles and occasional doubles

she keeps tissues on her and uses them relatively often

delicate and proper

the idea of lisa having a dust allergy is just everything to me, like she blows off dust from a book and ends up stuck for a few minutes with her nostrils flaring until she finally sneezes desperately into a tissue

rarely gets sick, but when she does milks the hell out of it to be as lazy as possible. like “oh im feeling so awful rn, maybe a kiss will make me feel better?~”

venti

fits fits fits

hands or elbows, really depends on how hard the sneeze hits him

decently loud and a bit high pitched

look venti is an anemo god all im saying is when he sneezes the wind picks up, and when he has fits its enough to push you over

to remedy this he just avoids everyone when sick and avoids cats with a a passion

buildups are very breathy and desperate

his nose runs so much near cats and he makes a godddamn mess of himself the longer hes around them

cats absolutely love him regardless

xiao

he gets fits only bcs i say so

literally either just the air or his hands because nobody ever taught him that he should like cover his mouth properly when sneezing

quiet but messy

the idea of xiao w just torturuous buildups does something for me. he’ll be stuck there w his breath hitching and hazy eyes for like a whole minute before he finally just ducks into his hand and makes a mess of himself

he does not understand being sick and absolutely hates it when he does get sick, 100% tries to power through it and ends up a fucking mess by the end of the day

his sneezes get stuck so often

his nose gets so fucking flushed and twitchy after a while of sneezing

ganyu

doubles or triples

sneezes in her elbow most of the time

soft and low

when she gets sick she gets so sleepy, her sneezes just kinda draw all the energy outta her and she usually ends up taking a nap

shes allergic to dogs too bcs why not

she doesnt want to bother people when sick or get them sick too so she usually takes copious sickdays until shes absolutely certain that she cant get anyone sick

zhongli

triples literally always for some reason

either into his fist or into a hankerchief

low and masculine, a bit loud

doing the same god shtick with him, the floor tends to shake whenever he gets particularly sneezy and stuff on cupboards can and will fall over when in the vicinity

no buildups really, hell just be in the middle of talking and then he blinks a bit and then sneezes roughly

he doesnt really take sick days but he doesnt really deny hes sick either, just kinda tries to get through the day despite feeling awful

#g/enshin i/mpact #sneeze kink #snz #sneeze headcanons #damn this took a while #i played favorites w x/iao and m/ona honestly #its my personal goal now to write every g/enshin character snzing at least once in a fic

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wornoutmouse · 4 years ago

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Imposter Bakugou pt1

It was so hard to choose who to kill honestly

Among Us au obviously

Darker themes, murder

This was a smut request that i honestly don't know how to turn into a smut and I'm still unsure if I'm going to put my darker fanfic fantasies on this account.

The lights went out above you, shrouding you in darkness. You wearily tap your body in search of your small built in flashlight. So far it seemed you were the only one heading towards Electrical but that wasn't surprising.

Ever since you all boarded, there seemed to be something on board. Your friends were going missing or turning up dead entirely, leading to distrust among the crew. So who in their right mind would head towards the source of the darkness rather than huddle together in a corner.

Nonetheless, someone has to turn the lights back on, you couldn't just be waiting in the dark, it would only lead to more death with no discovery.

You enter the room and feel around for the breaker. The soft sounds of shuffling was heard near you, but you ignore it against your better judgement. You get the lights on and turn around only to see the doors shut.

"Damn it!" The power going out probably triggered the door mechanism. It was going to be a while till they powered back on and you got out of here. You look down at your walkie and your checklist. "Might as well shift the power route to the top generator before calling someone."

You walk around the wall supporting the broker and cover your mouth in a silent scream.

There, laying in a heap of blood was Shinsou Hitoshi. He was a transfer from the other fleet, still so young in the working force, so why was he lying here with a hole in his chest?!? You back away from his body, seat gathering on your forehead.

You screamed and swung a blind punch when two hands clamp down on your shoulder. "Stop making so much damn noise, you'll scare everyone." It was Bakugou and you quickly latch onto him as you sobbed. A gentle hand rubbed your back until you calmed down

"Bakgou, we have to go tell the others quickly!" You run to the door expecting it to be unblocked but it still remained shut. "W-What, then how did you get in?" Bakgou leans against the wall. "I was already here."

You steady your breath, okay. "Then the killer must have killed Shinsou and run off when you weren't looking." Bakgou says nothing about your inner turmoil as he watched your eyes glance back and forth. He could care less and honestly he was quiet hungry. The thought of Tokoyaki crossed his mind briefly.

"But Bakugou..." You faced the door, unable to turn around unless the blond man answered your question. "Don't you have the master card to override all the doors." Bakgou lazily swung said card in your face confirming your question.

"And the doors only shut after I came in so that would be enough time for you to leave and get help." Bakgou shrugged, "I couldn't see that the kid was dead so I had no reason to report."

You turn around, pressing yourself against the wall to cause a little more distance. Bakugou stands straighter at the sight of your tense behavior. "What task were you doing?" Bakugou snorted, "Damn wires, what else!"

"You were doing wires in the dark?" Bakgou laughed as he walked towards you. The feeling of dread came over you as he got closer. Though the sound leaving his mouth was joyful, his eyes told a different story. You should shut your mouth, you knew, try to live another day. But you couldn't, for Shinsou.

"No idiot I had my flashlight on!" You slowly draw your hand to the small knife on your waist. "But you said you couldn't see Shinsou, he's two feet from wires and even if he wasn't, our flashlights are good enough to light half this room."

Bakgou rolled his shoulders, "You ask a lot of questions ya'know?" He stood only a small distance from you, if you moved now, you could take him out. "Ever heard the saying, curiosity killed the cat?"

You lunge at him, knife out and ready and to your surprise he makes no move to stop you.

You stab directly at his side. You didn't want to kill him for questioning but you needed to immobilize him. Nothing, you watch as his suit stains with blood. "Damn, I'm gonna have me one hell of a toothache now."

"Toothache?" Your throat is gripped and you are soon held against the wall suspended. Before your eyes, Bakugou's midsection opens up completely, revealing a faint mouth full of teeth and a strangely shaped tongue.

As if hearing your fretful thoughts, the tongue slides out of it's large mouth and slides along your cheek, slicing the skin there with only a touch. "I can kill you right fucking now all because you couldn't be a dumb little slut for me."

You shake your head as you grip the arm holding you up. "N-No this is impossible!" Bakgou rolls his eyes and puts you down before grabbing you by the ear. He drags you towards Shinsou's mangled corpse and you feel the bile rise in your throat.

"What is that y/n?" You shake your head as salty tears roll down your cheeks. He pressed your face closer, "WHAT IS THAT!" You gasp as another sob takes over you. "Fine I'll answer, that is a hole y/n. A hole in the middle of this extras body. Is that impossible y/n?"

The tears falling down your face prevented you from speaking as snot dripped out of your nose. Bakugou sneers in disgust and pushes you away, even closer to the body. "Damn humans are fucking disgusting." You crawl away from Shinsou as the realization of your situation finally hits you.

"Are you going to do that to me? Am I going to die?!" Bakugou doesn't respond but his waist does open back up. You clench your eyes shut and stand, it would probably be less painful if you stood. Your fists clenched and unclenched besides you as you waited for either pain, or the sweet release of death.

Nothing happens and you can't help but break down again. "Just do it already!" The sound of concealed laughter brings you out of your panic and you open your eyes.

Bakugou is bent over before you, laughing so hard, tears were falling down his face. The thought that it was all a prank crossed your mind but no, Shinsou looked too real. And they were never close enough to want to pull something this sick together.

"Ah, you're different than the rest. Any other would beg for their life and even offer their first born just to live to see the next day. But you!?" His sentence is interrupted with laughter once again. "You're so damn weak, you just gave up and decided to die!"

Bakugou wipes a stray tear from his eyes before becoming serious. "How pathetic. Fine, I'm not going to kill you, not yet at least." You are not comforted by the news as Bakugou walks towards you. "Nah instead, I'm going to pound that dumb little head of yours, until all you can think about is me. So much so, you won't even try to snitch."

Bakgou taps your head with his index finger as he looks down at your condescendingly. "I'm going to make you live with guilt on your mind as I pick your friends off one. by. one. Until it's only you left." He leans away, admiring the damage he was causing. "And then, when you're all alone, and broken. Then I'm going to come for you, and I'll be the one deciding whether you live or die."

This was way darker than i meant it to be. Idk how I'm going to even lead to a smut from this

#black y/n #blackreader #bnha headcanons #kinktober #bnha x black reader #bakugo x black reader #bakugou katsuki #among us #dark fic

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years ago

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Kingslayer AU: Chapter Eight

I don’t know what to say other than I like this one. Rendog enjoyers come get your free angst!

Scott filled the pages of his sketchbook gradually at first. He sat at his window and drew what he saw, focusing on putting shapes on the paper. Many times he was unhappy with the finished product, almost ripping out and throwing away his limited space.

He had to learn to be okay with it. The next time it would be a bit better, and a bit better, until the tree he’d been slaving over didn’t look half bad.

Soon his interests turned to drawing his friends. Their faces would pop up on his pages, drowned in eraser smudges at first. Then it became easy. Like second nature, he could memorize Grian’s knowing grin, Jimmy’s downturned eyes, Martyn’s slightly crooked nose.

He drew the way he saw Ren’s piercing yellow eyes that night, the way they were shadowed by his brow.

It felt better. To have a place where his memories could stay exactly the way he saw them. Scott even pinned some up on the wall of his room.

Soon his supply of paper started dwindling, Martyn told him if he needed more drawing paper to come back and ask him for some. So he did, after Jimmy went to bed and the world was quiet under the snow.

Scott made a trip to the Renchanting base, entering through the tunnel hidden under the mountain. It took him right to the storage area. Which was dark and deserted. Only a clock ticked on the wall, everyone else must have been in the sleeping quarters or back at their bases to fend off the Phantoms.

He took a torch from the “stuff chest” and started making rounds, looking at each storage container. Food, Armor, ores, wood, stone, and redstone. Until there was a wall of chests with people’s names on them.

Everyone in the Red Army had a chest, from left to right there was Ren, Martyn, Etho, Skiz, Impulse, Tango, Joel, and then Scott.

The last chest on the right side, Scott’s name was carved on top. It hadn’t been there before. He placed his hand on the lock, wondering if he should even bother opening it. Someone had cared enough to dedicate a space for him to put things. Under the roof of Dogwarts no less.

His torch flickered and Scott decided he’d spent too long lurking around, so he flipped the lock up and quietly opened the chest. Slowly so it wouldn’t creek.

Inside there was a single stack of drawing paper. Hand-sewn like the one Martyn had given him.

Scott placed the torch down and retrieved the paper. He knew it must have been Martyn. A smile found its way onto his face, and he let it stay there. This time, when nobody was looking.

Blowing out the torch and closing the chest, Scott gathered the sketchbook and decided to just leave through the front. It was almost midnight anyways.

Up the stairs and to the double doors of the enchanting room. The book on the table rose from its position and opened towards him as he walked past. Scott still had his hand on the doorknob when he opened it and stepped out into the frigid night.

Of course he didn’t expect to see anything, so when he did see something he froze in place.

In the spot that Martyn would typically occupy, on the very top of the walls sat Ren. His grey cape was bundled around himself to keep out the cold and his pointed ears were pressed low on his head. He was facing away from Scott.

Huddled on the perch, Ren’s shoulders were shaking. Silently, he cried.

Scott stood in the doorway motionless. He couldn’t believe the scene in front of him. Ren wasn’t one to cry. He was calculating and smart, rarely loosing his temper to even the worst of setbacks. A humorous man in charge of an Army of vagabonds, he never cried. He never expressed so much as a single weakness, he couldn’t afford that.

So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise, not really, that the Red King would save his sorrow for when nobody should be looking. Under the loneliest arm of the Milky Way, coldly gazing down on him. The weight of every star in the sky on his shoulders.

It made him look small.

Scott backed away from the door and ran back to the tunnel he came from, the kind of running you do when you are convinced your worst nightmare is snapping at your heels; and maybe for Scott it was.

He sprinted home without looking back. Trying to shove the image of Ren out the back of his mind.

That night he crept quietly back into bed, doing his best not to disturb Jimmy. Who stirred momentarily before simply turning over.

Scott stared at the arm of the Milky Way through the window until he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Days pressed by, Scott slithered too and from the walls of Dogwarts under the noses of his allies and between Spy Ring meetings. The first page of his new sketchbook lay empty, because whenever his pencil hovered above that damn page all he could see was a man huddled up under a galaxy of stars that would never return his wishes.

So when he was called out on night watch to the Renchanting base, Scott snuck out with his empty sketchbook held close to his chest. He arrived to a sleeping base, aware that his shift would be over in an hour and he would get to go home when the next guard showed up.

He yawned and stared out the window, at the stars above the wall. A pencil came to his hand and he started drawing what he saw. The shape of the wall against the glowing sky. He drew it, but it wasn’t right. The image in his mind came back to the front.

A weeping man holding a million stars on his shaking shoulders, the end of his frayed cape flaring out when the breeze kicked up. Tiny compared to the infinite sky. Scott’s fingers and palm turned black with graphite as he crafted the cosmos onto that paper.

His scribbling and smudging consumed all his thoughts as he focused on making the scene perfect, the pencil dulled and threatened to snap under the pressure.

“Major,” a stern voice came from right behind him.

Scott seized up in his chair, a feeling of terror so pure exploded in his chest that his vision left him for a few seconds. He gasped and turned around with his jaw on the floor.

Behind him was Ren. Clad in his winter jacket, a hand on the back of Scott’s chair. He stared directly into the other’s eyes from behind the dark lenses of his aviators. All the color had gone from his face.

Hoping the Red King hadn’t seen what he was drawing, Scott moved his hand to close the book.

It was too late. Ren had been watching him draw for long enough to know.

“You saw me?” Ren asked, but it was phrased more like a fact. It was.

Scott’s hesitation was enough of an answer. He stared up into Ren’s glasses, reminded of a familiar time. This time was different though, and this time Scott wished he could see behind the lenses.

He nodded and tore his eyes away, it felt intrusive to be staring.

“Ren,” Scott said to the floor, but was dismissed.

“No. Just go home. Now,” the other man ordered with a wavering voice.

Scott didn’t nod, he didn’t look at Ren. He gathered the sketchbook and slammed it shut within five seconds.

He didn’t say goodbye as he fled the walls. Scott ran from Ren, and this time he felt bad about it.

Scott didn’t return to Dogwarts for a week after that. Nobody called him to the night shift, nobody asked him to run any supplies. Maybe he was grateful for that, in the sense that he wouldn’t have to look Ren in the eyes again.

Until one night he couldn’t sleep. The clouds cast a dark blanket over the sky. Scott huffed and crawled out of bed, not bothering to change out of his pajamas. He pulled his boots on and took his coat off the hanger.

A walk is what he told himself he was going on, but really he knew where he was going. He didn’t know why, but for some reason Scott had a feeling he wasn’t the only one that couldn’t sleep.

This time instead of entering Dogwarts through the underground he rounded the front, cresting the hill right in front of Big B’s house. Scott scanned the top of the wall and saw what he was looking for. He shoved his hands in his pockets and entered Dogwarts through the front door.

Scott climbed the ladder and balanced himself as he walked over to Ren, who was sitting with his legs dangling over the side of the wall. His jacket was pulled tightly around him. Scott didn’t greet him when he sat down, Ren had seen him coming a mile away.

Ren didn’t look at him, he breathed in heavily, then sighed out a burst of vapor into the cold air.

“You couldn’t sleep?” Scott started the conversation this time.

“Wouldn’t matter if I could. I’m on night watch,” Ren said after a beat of silence.

Scott nodded, turning his head to the dark sky, “it’d be nicer with some stars, hm?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ren trailed off. He stared at his shoes.

“Okay I’m sorry, I’ll just-“ Scott made to get up and leave but Ren interrupted him.

“No, wait, you can stay,” Ren pulled on the sleeve of Scott’s elbow.

Scott nodded and pulled his knees closer to his chest. A pocket of clouds had moved, creating a window that let the moon gaze upon the Earth.

“Do you stargaze a lot?” Ren asked, this time he looked at Scott.

He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses.

“I try,” Scott replied, “there’s this huge book I found uh, In a village library a while ago. It has everything you can possibly see from down here in it,” he mused.

“Have you ever read one?” Scott asked.

“Uh, an astronomy book?” Ren’s eyes flicked to the left in thought, “I mean I’ve seen them. I haven’t read them. You like astronomy?” he asked.

Scott nodded, then pointed north, into the cloud cover, “you can’t see it now, but Ursa Major would be right over there,” he said.

Ren looked over like he was trying to imagine it, “you like Ursa Major?”

“Easiest to remember,” Scott said plainly.

“I’ll bet. S’ like a namesake,” Ren rested his chin on his palm, “I wish I had a constellation with my name,” his ear twitched on his head.

Scott’s metaphorical ears perked up, “Oh well, there’s one kind of like that,” he said. Ren’s actual ears perked up.

“It’s called Canis Major. It means Great Dog, or Big Dog,” Scott pointed south, “it will always be easy to see on a clear day. One of its stars is called Sirius,” he explained.

Ren nodded, “I’m familiar. Brightest in the sky, right?”

“Yeah. That’s right,” Scott replied.

“Canis Major huh?” Ren repeated. Scott nodded.

“Canis Major, and,” he looked over at Scott, “Scott Major,” Ren nudged the other on the shoulder.

“Right,” Scott said, and suddenly the sky didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Not when you have a friend to share it with.

#listen. hear me out...#the constellation thing was clever okay!!#also Canis Major rises in the winter. I call that poetic #there’s nothing too deep about Scott being Ursa Major other than his name and him being star-born #kingslayer au #3rdlife #3rd life smp #3rdlife smp #rendog #scott smajor #mcyt #mcytblr #cas types

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yeenybeanies · 3 years ago

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Slaying Monsters

i started this three months ago, and decided it was time to finish it. i’ve been wanting to write a piece with dev & some other gang members for a while now i didn’t proofread it yet don’t @ me

red dead redemption | charles smith & devin clarke ( oc )

3,728 words

language, blood, & animal death warnings

thanks for reading!! reblogs > likes!! patreon | ko-fi

Unattended bags are always tempting to a borrower. It’s partly survival and partly curiosity that draws the little beings to bags and boxes and other such vessels that contain stuff. Ideally, that stuff would be useful.

Such is Devin’s idea upon approaching a lone saddlebag. They’ve been watching it for a while now. It has remained unbothered and undisturbed atop a tree stump for over an hour. Surely there’s bound to be something good inside, what with the many members of the Van Der Linde gang constantly coming and going. And surely, whatever those contents may be, small amounts won’t be missed.

The coast is clear. The camp is preoccupied in tending to the daily duties; no one is paying the bag any mind. Devin makes a break for it, keeping low as they run through the grass, to the stump. They pause at the base and give the camp a quick look, pleased to see that no one has taken notice of their presence. For just a moment, they allow themself a prideful smirk, then they refocus on the task at hand: climb the stump and get in the bag. The former is hardly a challenge; deep cracks in the bark provide handholds enough that the borrower doesn’t need their hook or climbing equipment to scale it. Despite the strap and buckle keeping the bag shut, Devin is small enough to slip through a gap and reach the interior.

The space is dark and cramped, but some light filters in through the gap they’d entered. The first thing Devin notices is the smell of leather and sweat, and fabric beneath their feet. Clothing. It’s best not to take anything from these; missing scraps from a shirt or a pair of pants would definitely be noticed. Deeper down, past the clothes, another smell becomes more prominent: something earthy and floral. That could be useful. Devin crawls through the mounds of fabric, navigating the musty space, until their hand brushes something soft. A bit more pawing around reveals it to be an umbel of little flowers. Intrigued, they grasp the stem and pull the plant into the light for better inspection.

“ What the hell…. ” White flowers, jagged leaves…. Devin scrunches their nose, confused. Is their plant identification knowledge failing them? Or is the owner of this bag an idiot?

Pondering is short-lived. Footsteps approach from the outside––a human. Devin’s heart speeds up. They drop the plant and dive for cover within the clothes just as the bag is lifted. It sways in the air with the human’s long strides, most disorienting. When the swaying stops, the borrower remains hidden, knowing full-well that they are not safe yet. There’s an exchange of words overhead, a brief moment of stillness, and then the world starts tumbling. Devin clutches hard onto the clothing concealing them. Much to their chagrin, this particular jostling is painfully familiar. They’re on a horse.

Somehow, being in a saddlebag is worse than being stuck under a hat.

Fuck.

Suppressing the sickening feeling in their stomach and the myriad of emotions swarming their brain, Devin fights against the horrible shaking and pushes their way out of the fabric folds. Climbing is significantly harder, but they still press on, going so far as to use their knife and hook for more purchase on the tough leather. Slowly but surely, they manage to reach the opening they’d initially climbed through and peek out. The wind whips and frays their hair and makes it difficult to see much of anything. They catch glimpses of the ground speeding below at breakneck speed, and at the horse’s white-and-grey spotted pelt.

Most surprisingly, and to some relief, though, is the rider. The long, black hair and the big, sawed-off shotgun identify the man: “Charles!”

Alas, their voice is unheard over the wind. Devin growls, frustrated, and retreats back into the relative safety of the saddlebag. There’s no use trying to get his attention right now. They’re just going to have to endure the bouncing and the shaking until he slows down. They can only pray that it’s soon.

———

Only an hour or so elapsed by the time the galloping slowed, though, to Devin, it felt like a lifetime. Despite their queasiness (courtesy of the bumpy ride), the borrower pushes free of the mountains of fabric and scrambles up the leathery interior, to the opening. They pause at the rim and focus on swallowing the bile in their throat, then, once it’s clear, level the back of the human’s head with a hard stare.

They breathe in until their chest burns, and let out the loudest yell they can muster: “CHARLES!”

The man jumps in his saddle and whips his head around, one hand to the shotgun on his hip. His eyes scan the horizon behind him, well over Devin’s head.

“Down here. Hey!” They wave an arm, trying to ignore how foolish they feel. Even after months of being around Arthur, it still goes against everything they know as a borrower to flag down a human.

Were the situation different—were Devin not currently fighting some ferocious nausea—they might find it comical how Charles’s expression changes. First he’s struck with recognition, eyes still on the horizon, and then the color in his face pales with realization and horror. Slowly, as if he were making every effort to delay the inevitable find, his gaze lowers to the gap under the saddle bag flap and the little borrower peeking out.

“Devin?” It still takes him a moment to process their presence, and then he’s all but falling out of the saddle (much to his horse’s displeasure). After he’s got his feet on the ground and his balance under control, the man unbuckles the saddlebag lid and flips it open. The color is rapidly returning to his face in a heated flush. “M-Miss Clarke, I didn’t know you were—why are you in my bag?” His hand nears them, but Devin waves it off.

“Don’t. I might puke. It’s a marvel that I haven’t already.” They try to suppress a shudder. “I didn’t know this was your bag. I just saw it sitting back at the camp, untouched for some time. Thought I could get something useful.”

Charles grimaces sympathetically and lets his hand come to rest on his horse’s flank. He isn’t thrilled to hear that someone was rummaging through his belongings for things to scavenge, but such behavior is to be expected from a borrower, he figures. It does make him feel a little better to know that Devin hadn’t been targeting him specifically.

“I should take you back to camp. Arthur would kill me if something happened to you.” Never mind the berating Charles would give himself. He might not know Devin as well as Arthur does, but their charm is infectious. They are well on their way to having another human wrapped around their teeny tiny finger.

“I’d like that. Eventually. But I don’t think I can take much more galloping right now. Riding in Arthur’s hat was better than riding in here.” The borrower leans over the leather with a quiet groan. The nausea is subsiding, albeit slowly. They do stiffen just a little when Charles lightly rubs a knuckle to their back, but the gentle pressure draws another, more content groan from their tiny lungs.

“I'm alright,” they say after a minute. They glance up at Charles, offering him a weak but grateful smile, and then look to their surroundings. It’s not anywhere they recognize, but that’s not surprising. “So where are we going? ”

“Well, I was going out foraging,” the man says. “Now that you’re here, though…” He trails off, uncertain.

“Oh! Speaking of foraging–––” the borrower vanishes back into the bag, leaving Charles perplexed. Once they emerge again, they hold up a sprig of white flowers. “What the hell are you doing with this?”

Charles squints at the plant, then raises his brow in realization. “You know what that is?”

The surprise in his voice is a little insulting. Devin scrunches their nose. “Don’t patronize me, Mr. Smith. I’ve lived in the wild most of my life. I know what water hemlock is.”

He holds his hands up and offers an apologetic shrug. “That’s actually what I was going to forage for. I found some while I was out with Javier the other day, but I didn’t have time to collect more.”

“Okay.” Devin inspects the flowers, twirling the stem between their hands. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re going to do with it. Are you planning to poison someone? Is it that Micah guy?”

That earns them a snort. If only. “No. I use it on my knives and arrowheads. That and oleander sage. Gives them an extra kick.”

Devin frowns, just a smidge disappointed. “I suppose that’s a good alternative use. I used to do the same with my knife when I could find hemlock.” They drop the sprig and watch it fall to the ground far below. “It’d be so easy to poison Micah though…” They say so only half-jokingly.

“Don’t I know it.” Charles shares the sentiment, but he shakes his head. Much as he’d like to see that snake gone, it’s not his place to do anything about his presence. Yet.

Now that the nausea has passed (for the most part), the borrower pulls themself from the bag and climbs up the saddle, making their way up to the seat. “I’m okay now,” they say. “We’ve already come this far. We might as well go get that hemlock. I can use it too.”

Charles looks a little uncertain, but when he opens his mouth to protest, Devin levels him with a hard stare that makes him think twice. He clears his throat. “Why don’t you ride up here with me?” he offers. “It’d probably be a bit smoother.”

Smoother would certainly be welcomed. Devin nods and climbs onto the man’s hand when it’s brought down to their level. His skin is warm and rough, similar to Arthur’s hands. Unlike Arthur, though, he carries them with greater caution. Devin pats his thumb.

“Relax. I’m not made of paper.”

“Er… right.”

They can’t fault him for his caution. Charles has significantly less experience handling Devin than does Arthur. If anything, it’s comforting to know that he is actively trying to keep them comfortable.

He grabs the saddlehorn with his free hand and hauls himself up. First he brings them to his lap, and then, after thinking, lifts them higher to his shoulder, where they climb off. Devin sits just outside of his beaded necklace and takes a handful of his hair.

“Is this going to bother you?”

“No, it’s fine. Use what you need. Let me know if you start to slip.”

Once he’s sure Devin is secure––as secure as they can be on his shoulder––he spurs his horse gently in the ribs. They set off at a slow canter, something a bit less bumpy than the gallop before. Charles is correct: it’s more comfortable riding on his shoulder than it was in the bag, if only a little bit. Devin resigns themself to the reality that they will likely never enjoy travel on horseback, but this is at least tolerable.

Charles is silent for the most part, which doesn’t bother Devin. They find themself occupied looking at the scenery. From their usual vantage point on the ground, they don’t much get to appreciate views of mountains and trees and vast prairies. Even on the off occasion that they hitch a ride on Arthur’s person, they often take to hiding in his scarf, thus dashing any chances of catching the view.

Despite the ride’s discomfort, Devin finds themself enjoying this. They are grateful, though, when Charles tugs the reins and brings the horse to a gradual stop. He spares them a glance when they sigh.

“You doing okay?”

“Just peachy.” Devin gives the shoulder beneath them a pat. He dismounts rather awkwardly, trying not to jostle them too much.

It strikes Devin that they have not just one, but two humans invested in their safety and comfort. It leaves them with mixed feelings fluttering about in their chest.

Best not to dwell on it right now.

Walking is a little choppy at first, what with Charles figuring out how best to adjust his gait with Devin on his shoulder, but, once he figures out a good rhythm, it smooths out. He steps carefully, eyes scanning the ground for the plants he seeks. Devin watches too, though they’re less focused on the hemlock and more interested in… well, everything else. Hemlock is but one plant in a new area full of things to explore.

“Hey. Let me down.” Devin gives the man’s hair a light tug, drawing his attention back to them. Though he can’t fully look at them from where they sit, he still furrows his brow in an uncertain expression meant for them. Devin rolls their eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m a big boy, Charles; I walk around on my own every day.”

“I’m sure, but–––”

“Either you let me down or I’m jumping.” That seems to work. Charles acquiesces with a reluctant sigh and gingerly helps the borrower down to the ground. He remains crouched after they hop off of his hand, still looking unsure. Devin waves up at him. “Go on. Keep doing what you were doing. I’m fine.”

“Yell if you get into trouble,” he says, voice stern. Devin chooses not to take offense.

“Sure thing.” They part with a final wave and dart off into the grass, out of the human’s view. Still he hesitates, but he does eventually get up and carry on with his task. Devin breathes out an exasperated breath.

Having the care and concern of two humans is endearing, yes, but it can also be annoying. Devin might need to have a stern talk with the both of them if they keep this overprotective behavior up. They aren’t a child.

Charles does not feel good about just leaving Devin on the ground, but it wouldn’t have been right of him to hold them like some helpless creature. They’ve reminded him twice now that this is the life they live; he makes a mental note to try and be more respectful of that. After all, he reasons that he wouldn’t much appreciate it if someone else tried to keep him from doing the things he does every day. He isn’t palm-sized, but he imagines Devin still doesn’t care to be doted over. So he bites back his unease. He came out here for water hemlock. That’s what he’s going to find. Devin will be okay.

Following the nearby creek, Charles begins his search. He tests the soil beneath him with his foot, feeling its spring, its moisture, then starts scanning. Familiar white flowers speckle the banks. A faint smile creeps onto his lips. There’s plenty here for him to make use of.

–– –– ––

Devin pushes through the tall foliage, looking high and low for anything that might be useful. They find medicinal herbs, and spices for seasoning. Mentally they commend Charles; he sure knows where to look when it comes to valuable natural resources. Some of these plants are a rare find back at Horseshoe Outlook. They pick and take as much as they can carry, stuffing their bag full.

All is going fine. It’s going great, even. They’re making their way back down to the ground, munching on a sweet, juicy raspberry. The red fruit soaks their hands, their face, and their clothes, making them appear as though they’d just mauled something. It makes them snicker, thinking how Charles will react to see them like this. Their good humor dies suddenly, though. Devin feels a chill rush down their spine. They pause, alert, head on a swivel.

In an instant, everything seems to slow down. Devin drops to the ground as a pink, gaping mouth sails just a hair’s breadth over their head. It snaps shut, long fangs closing around air, and the scaly head of a rattlesnake retreats back to its coils, gearing up for another strike. Berry forgotten, Devin pulls their knife and their hook out. They stare the snake down just as it does them. It’s big––not just to them, but by rattlesnake standards. It’s a big fucking snake. The borrower’s heart races in their chest, but they don’t run, nor do they back down.

–– –– ––

Charles takes several clippings of water hemlock and carefully stows them in his satchel. He doesn’t take everything that he sees, not wanting to clear the area of the deadly plant, but he’s pleased with his haul so far. Already he has enough to coat his knives twice over, so he thinks that he could probably give Arthur and Javier some as well, so as not to waste it. He takes a few more stalks, then stands and stretches his back, arms held out to the side.

“That’s enough,” he mumbles to himself. He turns back to where he’d left Devin and scans the ground. Their tiny footprints are just barely visible in the dirt, and disappear into the grass.

“Miss Clarke?” he calls, taking a knee near the footprints. They don’t answer. “I think I’m just about done here, so I’m ready to go when you––woah––!” The man jumps back as a rattlesnake head pushes through the grasses. Layers of alarm spike in his brain: it’s a big-ass snake; Devin isn’t here; it has blood on its face; Did it eat Devin––?

“Just ‘Devin,’ Charles,” says the tiny voice. Charles flinches again. He swears he heard that voice coming from the snake. Did it eat them? He stares on in confusion, pondering whether or not he needs to cut the damn thing open, when its head flops to the side. Hauling it along is the little borrower.

“Oh my god. Are you––did the snake–––?” He stammers over his words, which surprises Devin. Arthur stammers here and there, but Charles is always so clear and calm when he speaks. They glance down at themself, noting the red stain and slick coating their hands, their head, their clothes…

“Ah! It’s okay! This isn’t––” they drop the snake and wave their hands, trying to placate the man, “I’m okay! This is all snake blood! And raspberry juice.”

Charles still looks horrified, glancing between the borrower and the rattlesnake. He does note that the blood seems to be coming from a deep wound on its head, right between its vacant eyes.

“You… killed it?” He gathers himself on his knees and leans forward, gingerly prodding the lifeless body.

“It tried to kill me first,” they say, sounding almost indignant. “Kinda lucky, though. I haven’t taken down a rattlesnake in a while. I can use it’s fangs and its venom.”

Charles lifts the carcass from the ground, testing its weight in his hands. His eyebrows shoot up at its heft. When he stands with its head at eye-level, its rattle-tipped tail still touches the ground.

It’s a big fucking snake.

“You… killed this monster?” He can’t hide the disbelief––or perhaps it’s awe––in his eyes as he looks back down to Devin.

They huff back up at him, trying not to take offense. “Yeah. I did,” they say, arms crossed over their chest. Charles waves his free hand.

“I don’t––I don’t mean to doubt you Miss––er, Devin. Sorry, I’m just… impressed.” Impressed would be an understatement.

Devin rolls their eyes. They adjust their bag and their knife, then trudge on towards Charles. Before they can ask him to, he stoops down and lowers a hand for them to climb onto. Once he has them at his level, Charles can see their annoyance clear as day.

“I tell you––both you and Arthur, you need to understand that I’m not helpless. I’ve lived my whole life out here. Half of it’s been alone. So spare me your patronizing looks and comments.” There’s venom in their eyes, in their words, as present as that in the venom in the snake’s fangs.

Charles has no hand free to hold up, but he does dip his head apologetically. “You’re right. I admit, I underestimated you. And I’m sorry for it. I’ve never met anyone like you before, and it’s a learning process.”

Devin’s features soften a little. They sigh and run a hand through their blood-slicked hair. It’s gross, but it’s not the first time they’ve been covered in blood. It won’t be the last time either.

“I like you, Charles. A lot. It’s a learning process for me too.” They offer him a half smile, though it does look a bit daunting with their red visage. “I think I’m ready to go home now.”

The man grimaces. “Think you want to… wash off first? Arthur is going to have a fit if he sees you like this.”

Devin looks down to themself, returning the grimace. “...yeah, probably. What I can, at least.” The blood wasn’t going to come out of their clothes without any soap, but they could wash their skin and hair off. Maybe they could hide their outerwear from Arthur, too. They had their underclothing on that wouldn’t show bloodstains.

Rattlesnake draped around his neck, Charles carries the borrower down to the creek and crouches at the bank. He brings his hands down for them to hop off and clean themself off. When they start stripping their outerwear, he turns his head to give them some privacy, and waits for them to draw his attention again when they’re done. Damp, but cleaner, and left in their long underclothes, Devin climbs back into Charles’ hands and scurries up to his shoulder, right next to the snake carcass.

“You good?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m good,” they say. They give his shoulder a pat.

Charles stands, still a bit awkward with his passenger, but less so than before. “Pearson is gonna love this snake,” he says, tongue in cheek.

Devin bristles and glares daggers at the man. “This snake is my prize. That man is getting none of it. You can have some of it if you want, since you’re carrying it home, but I’m not sharing it with anyone else.” There’s that venom again.

Charles snorts. He pulls himself into his saddle and spurs his horse, gently pushing her to start trotting. “Right. Of course. My apologies, Devin.”

#g/t #g/t fiction #g/t writing #rdr #g/t rdr #charles smith #devin clarke #hyena ocs #i'm not in love with this but i'm tired of looking at it #& i wanted to finish it so i can feel less bad about starting something new #hyena writes

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ochabestgirl · 3 years ago

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I have so many good ideas and prompts for fanfiction, and I HAVE tried my had at writing, but it never turns out how I’m wanting it to. I would love for an experienced fanfic writer who loves kachako, to maybe feel inspired to write a specific prompt that has been in my head for years.

So the story starts out with an established Katsuki and Ochako relationship.

Ochako hasn’t been feeling her best, with fatigue and weakness, wt loss, easily getting winded which has been putting a dent in her hero training. Ochako has never wanted to be a burden on anyone, so she keeps how she’s been feeling to herself, brushing off any concerns from her friends and teachers, saying she’s just been overworking herself as an excuse.

Things then take a turn for the worst when she passes out after giving blood at the yearly blood drive that pops up at UA every November. Nobody really thinks anything of it, since it is a normal reaction to donating blood. She wakes up in recovery girls office 4 hours later with a passed out Katsuki in the chair next to her bed. He wakes up and is worried but she eases his worries and sends him back to his dorm room after recovery girl comes in to check up on her. Once their alone, she informs her that after running a few tests on some of the blood she had donated, they discovered that her labs showed an increased in the number of leukocytes which point to one think, leukemia.

Recovery girl wants her to run more tests and have a bone marrow biopsy to confirm and come up with a treatment plan but Ochako is in denial. She can’t possibly accept the fact that all her hard work the last two years at UA could all be for nothing, so she goes harder than ever and does her best to hide it from everyone, including Katsuki.

After getting pared up with Kirishema for a class hero project, Ochako starts having worse symptoms, like bleeding gums and nose bleeds. Recovery girl says that this is a sign of worsening leukemia so she gives her an ultimatum, she either go’s to get her biopsy done or she was going to tell Her teachers, HIPAA be damned.

Reluctantly she agrees, but on the days following, Kirishema notices that she’s been slacking and feels frustrated to be the only one doing the work. On the day of her biopsy, she dips out of training early. Kirishema, having had enough, confronts her saying it wasn’t fair to him if she wasn’t going to take their assignment seriously. Ochako ends up having a compleat meltdown saying, “ you wanna know what’s not fair, I have cancer!” Kirishema in shock tries to respond but she cuts him off “ I’m going to my first bone biopsy today, that’s why I had to leave early, I’m going through this alone, but I’m sorry if all of this is an inconvenience to you!” Tears rolling down her face she turns on her heals and walks away, leaving Kirishema standing there speechless.

After a few moment he takes off to recovery girl desperately looking for answers, now extremely worried about his friend. He grills her for answers. Recovery girl, not able to give him much information, tells him what she can. That Ochako isn’t wanting to tell anyone or be compliant, and where her biopsy is taking place.

Ochako is on the table and they are about to start but before they even take out the needle a nurse walks in and whispers something to the dr. He nods his head and the nurse leaves. She doesn’t thank anything about it, until the door opens and Kirishema walks in. She is confused. “I couldn’t let you go through this alone.” He says shrugging his shoulders with a wary look on his face and tears in his eyes.

He sits by her side holding her hand and brushing his fingers through her hair as she gasps and cries in pain. Tears both running down their faces.

* I don’t have much in between this part and the next. Mostly just Katsuki worrying to death, seeing the bruising on Ochako body and the amount of weight she has lost, not to mention her lethargic behavior, and Kirishema wanting to tell him what’s been going on but not being able to because it wasn’t his place. Ochako swearing him to secrecy, wanting to be the one to tell him but not feeling ready, so she keep putting it off.*

Kirishema has enough when Ochako passes out during breakfast, right in the middle of eating. Katsuki beside himself with anxiety and worry, urging her to take it easy. Ochako looks at Kirishema, noticing the terrified look on his face and excuses herself to go to her dorm room, but not without giving her boyfriend a calming kiss saying she was going to take a nap. Katsuki watch’s her disappear through the elevator doors, with a hopeless look on his face. Kirishema has made up his mind and sneaks off after breakfast to confront Ochako.

They end up getting into an argument and Kirishema says that she has to the end of the week to tell Katsuki or he was going to and storms out of her room, leaving Ochako sitting on her bed staring off into space completely spent with the day already.

Katsuki comes up after cleaning up the dining area to find Ochako passed out rather uncomfortable looking on her bed. He adjusts her to where her head is on her pillow and draws the covers up over her shoulders. She is shivering so he looks for another blanket in her dresser drawers only to find a large plastic bag full of an assortment of colorful pills. (Ochako put them in a plastic bag so she could hide them better.)

Completely shook, thinking that Ochako has a drug problem, he takes the pills and leaves, and in typical Katsuki fashion with no warning or tact, confronts Ochako in the common room after dinner in front of all his classmates. Completely consumed with worry, frustration, anger, concern and sadness, he doesn’t even think that he probably shouldn’t have approached it the way he did, but he was too desperate to care.

He throws the bag of pills out on the coffee table in front of Ochako. “Care to explain why I found a bag of pills in your dresser?” He asks with so much tension he is shaking a little bit. “I should have noticed sooner, it makes so much since now.” He says to no one in particular.

“Katsuki it’s not what you think, let me explain, I….”

“Don’t even fucking lie Ochako, you’ve been lying to me for weeks, I’m sick of it damnit!” He is shaking uncontrollably now. “I’m telling Aizawa, and we’re getting you into the first rehabilitation facility we can find that has an opening!” He’s so unhinged that he doesn’t even notice the stunned looks of concern on his classmates faces.

“Ochako, is it true?” Mina asked with both hands cradled to her chest. “ If it is, we all love you and want to help you.”

At this point Ochako is slumped over with her face in her hands, trying to make herself as small as possible.

She had been sitting between Deku and Iida, who are now rubbing her back with worried looks on their faces. “Ochako we will get you help, everything will be okay.” Deku says with tears in his eyes and voice thick with emotion.

Ochako springs off the couch so fast it startles everyone. She’s pacing around the room, and the color looks to be drained out of her face. She’s breathing heavy with tears in her eyes, borderline panic attack mode. Katsuki’s face softens and he approaches her, arms lifting like he was going to try to calm her down.

Kirishema then decides to speak up “ Chako, I think now is the right time to tell him.”

Katsukis head snaps up and his eye meet the ones of his best friend. “What the hell are you talking about, you knew what was going on this whole fucking time, and kept it from me?!”

“It wasn’t my place to say anything bro.” Kirishema responded with regret.

Small explosions leave katsukis palms as he leaps over the couch grabbing onto Kirishema’s shirt getting a few punches in before Deku and Sero pull them apart. Katsukis is still thrashing trying to get out of Dekus grip.

“I have leukemia!” Ochako screams loud enough for everyone in the building to hear. She then falls to the ground curling into herself sobbing.

Everyone and everything just stops and everyone freezes, Kirishema is laying on the floor rubbing his face while katsukis just stands there, with a blank look on his face directed at Ochako.

“Leuko-what now??” Kaminari asks from his place beside Kirishema.

“But that’s” Deku starts “ That’s cancer right?”

A strangled gasp is heard from Tsyu, who is trying not to cry.

“How can this be? Your so young, you have your whole life ahead of you.” Iida says like he hasn’t processed the information yet.

This comment causes katsuki to spring to life, “ w-why the fuck are you still here then, we need to get you to a hospital! Som-someone go get recovery girl! Why are you all looking at me like I’m crazy! She needs to go to a fucking hospital!” He’s not pausing for breath and in a half second, he is crouching down next to Ochako, ready to pick her up and bolt to the closets hospital himself. “ W-whatever, I’m going to get Aizawa myself!”

“You can’t!” Ochako desperately clings to katsukis arm, both trying to ground herself and to stop him from leaving. “You cant tell anyone! N-none of you all can tell anyone.” She looks like a cornered animal.

Katsuki looks at her like she has grown a second head. “what the hell are you talking about?! Do you even get how serious this is?! You could fucking die Ochako!” He’s panicking now “ That is not a risk I am willing to take!”

Anger boiling up inside her she yanks her hands away and stands up, causing katsuki to fall over.

“This isn’t your decision ‘Bakugou!’” She seethes. “I have worked so hard and I have come so far! I can’t give all that up! I won’t!” She is standing so still, fist clenched and shaking slightly.

“Chako, you have to-“ Kirishema is silenced by Ochakos loud “No!”

“I don’t Have to do anything! This is my decision!” Ochako starts backing away, eyes darting around the room, obviously looking for an escape. “It’s my decision…” she whispers once more before she bolts to the door leading to the outside, having jumped over the couch in the process. By the time anyone had realized what had happened, she had already disappeared through the doors vanishing into the night.

The class explodes into a frenzy.

“What is going on down here.” Came the calm voice of their teacher from the elevator doors.

“Mr Aizawa…” Kirishema takes it upon himself to explain everything that had happened, all the while katsuki curls more and more into himself. He is still on the floor, head between his legs and hands in his hair.

Deku is close by, trying to talk to him but it is lost on def ears, he can barely make out the panic in his voice.

Trying to get control over his breathing he starts in though is nose and out through his mouth. He is filled with so many emotions he doesn’t know which one to focus on. Angry tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

He is aware of Kirishema’s face replacing Deku’s, and the ringing in his ears has stopped enough to hear him say that Aizawa, Mina, and , Tsyu have went after her.

He doesn’t remember when or how he winds up on the couch, and he doesn’t even care. He feels hands push him down so he is laying down with his feet propped up, and a cold washcloth is placed on his head.

By the time he starts to breath normally, he’s not sure how much time has passed. When he opens his eyes, he sees that some people were still lingering. Kirishema was sitting in a chair next to him with his head in his hands. Deku, Iida, and Todoroki were hovering by the door, looking for any sign of their return. Sero and kaminari sat on the love seat across from katsuki with sad, forlorn expressions on their faces.

When he slowly sits up, Kirishema lifts his head. Looking him dead in the eyes, katsuki asked, “Did all of that really happened? Is this really happening?” Katsuki hates how his voice cracks.

“ I’m afraid so.” Kirishema says gaze lowering to the floor. “ listen man, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t my place.”

“ I understand why you didn’t. It’s okay.” Kirishema looked like he wanted to say something to that but suddenly the door opened.

Katsuki shoots up from his seat on the couch and faces the door.

Tucked underneath Mr. Aizawa’s arm was a rather small looking Ochako. Face puffy from crying, and bags under her eyes from exhaustion, she looked like the walking dead. Beside her with her arm locked with hers was Mina, face also a little read and puffy, Tysu bringing in the rear holding Ochakos shoes, despair written all over her face.

Ochako refused to look at anyone, even the remaining members of the so called “Deku squad.”

Katsuki makes a move to meet them at the door but one look from Mina makes him stop in his tracks. She shakes her head and mouths ‘not now,’ so not knowing what else to do he just stands there and dumbly watches them make their way to the elevator.

Katsuki tries to sleep that night, but can’t, his mind too full with visions of Ochako dying. Giving up he goes to his desk and opens up his laptop. He spends the next 3 hours researching leukemia, the survival rate, symptoms, causes, treatments, reactions to the medication, by the time the third hours came to a close it’s 2 am and katsuki has had enough. Without second guessing himself, he makes his way out the door, down the hall to Ochakos room and knocks.

It takes a few minutes before the door opens revealing a wide awake but an extremely exhausting looking girl he calls his girlfriend.

Her face contorts in pain and her eyes well up with tears when she sees him. “I’m so sorry katsuki” she sobs.

Without saying anything katsuki grabs her face with both of his hands and kisses her with the power of every emotion he had felt and is still feeling. Pushing her back into her room, he kicks the door shut. She’s on him in seconds, tears still leaking from her eyes as he kisses them away.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much cheeks.” It’s comes out as a choked whisper, like a plea for her to live. He’s got a lump in his throat but he pushes it down. She doesn’t need him breaking down too.

Ochako steps back for only a second to remove her shirt, then she leaps and wraps her legs around katsukis waist, opening up a whole other can of worms.

Not having any control at this point, he pushes her against the door, devouring her mouth like it was his only lifeline. “ I love you too! So much, I’m so sorry.” He silences her words with a Searing kiss. He moves them over to the bed and gently places her down. then settles himself on top of her. “Are you okay? I’m not hurting you am I?” He’s so afraid now.

“You could never hurt me.” She says with such certainty.

That night they gave themselves to each other in every way they could think of.

Him needing to feel her, to know that she was still alive and whole in his arms.

Her needing to feel alive and needing reassurance that she wasn’t alone in this, needing to feel close to the one she loves.

*So that is all I have so far. I do have some thoughts about her treatment and how katsuki struggles with watching her suffer. I would like the story to include weather or not Ochako makes it. But I’ll leave that up to whoever wants to take this story on. Also feel free to write smut if you want. I’m just not good at that, so I didn’t include it.

Please let me know what you all think and if you can make this fic come to life.

Disclaimer: Art is not mine! I got it off of google search. All credit goes to the artists.

#bakugou katsuki #izuku mydoria #kachako #katsuki x ochako #ochako uraraka #my hero academia #kirishima eijirou #mina ashido #kirimina #my hero fanfic #sad fanfiction #leukemia #my hero academy fanfiction #kachaan #deku x ochako #friendship #kirichako #brotp inspo

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internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Lesson Learned

summary: Pinning exercises are a lot easier when you ask nicely.

a/n: The backstory to this piece was that I went to the church part of our discord server and told people about me being thirsty about Slade and they collectively went: DO HIM. The reader does have a backstory which boils down to rich girl from a crime family is a little shit because I thought this would have a funny dynamic with Slade. Special thanks to @batarella and @knightfall05x for proof reading and giving me ideas. Would this count as my one entry for kinktober?

warnings: This is straight up smut. Please read responsibly. Brat taming, strength kink, daddy kink, orgasm denial, and hinted size kink. (Hilariously half of these were by complete accident.) There is some injury mentioned but not too graphically. Both characters are assholes.

masterlist

Slade was on the ground, his head was swimming even as the sharp shriek of sirens rang loud in his ears. His senses were at once too sharp and too unfocused. Whatever drug he'd been hit with had to have targeted the nerves in his muscles too. He couldn't move. Not substantially anyway. Not in a way that would actually help him. Through the haze he hears the clicking of heels against the floor, then a sharp pain shoots through him when said heel dug into one of his still closing bullet wounds.

You stood above him, your shark's smile hidden behind your mask. "Well old man, I didn't think you would be caught this easy. I might need to rethink this meeting." You hummed tapping your chin as you lean down your heel digging further into his flesh. It's a tactic your sister had taught you. People were less inclined to think clearly when in excruciating pain. If Deathstroke was this easy to capture, was he really worth your money?

He was watching you, blue eyes looking defiant. You whistled low. You liked a hard negotiation. It kept things more interesting. The rapid footsteps of men drew you out of your contemplation much to your annoyance. You debated on just paying them to go away. It would make your life easier but there's a chance these men were truly loyal to the man you had just paid a visit to.

You weigh your options. His reputation may be enough to keep your siblings away. Maybe just long enough 'til their petty little war is over. "I'm going to hire you-"

"-this assumes I'm going to say yes"

You snorted. He noted the confident roll in your shoulders, the kind of cocky self-assured gesture of someone who knows they're going to win. Every movement, every angling of your form deliberately used to show a difference in power and lack of respect. In short, it made you very punchable.

"Your statement assumes you have a choice." You chuckled tilting your head to the side in challenge. He scowled at you and you try to keep the sheer delight you feel out of your body language. You weren't sadistic by any means but for one, brutality was practically bred into you, and two, you are, what your darling eldest brother had so kindly put, a little bitch. "I'll tell you why you'll say yes to my proposal." You said stepping off of him and pirouetting towards your duffle bag. "One, I'm offering your more than a million dollars in cash for the simple job of training me-" You observed his face as it remains carefully impassive. You expected as much. You heft your bag into your arms and unzip it rummaging through the cache of weapons you had stored just in case plan A through F failed you. "Unless we're associated, I'm the only one walking out of here with any money for their troubles." You said tossing the severed head of his target in front of him. You gave him an all too pleased grin.

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You find yourself pinned down again in the span of 15 minutes, face squished against the training mat, your arms pinned behind you, and most annoyingly your ass raised while your bastard of an instructor laughs in your ear, his lips dangerously close to your ear. You hiss and bristle feeling the fibers in your muscles burn from the uncomfortable angle they've been forced into. You squirm trying to buck him off but his strength rendered your efforts moot. His enhanced strength keeps your body firmly between the sweat-covered mat and his large, toned body which just made you bite your lip to keep anything vulgar from escaping you.

You were 110% sure he was fucking with you at this point but any smart remark you had was either smothered by the mat or died whenever you felt acutely aware of your skin against his.

"Get off of me, old man," You snarl, making a futile attempt to kick him off with one of your legs. He chuckles at your weak attempts, the reverberations from his chest pressing against your back sending a thrum of excitement rolling over you concentrating into more distracting areas. You can't see it but you know he's grinning smugly above you and you can't decide whether it's your horniness or your anger that will win out. You sincerely hope it's the latter.

"C'mon, kid, you can get out of this," He encourages but you don't miss the playful mockery dancing in his tone. You squirm and wriggle and sigh. "Just let me out," You demand, politely. He doesn't budge. You turn your head to pout petulantly at him. That doesn't do anything either.

You sigh again. You hated pinning exercises with a carefully cultivated passion which you would normally direct at whatever instructor was dumb enough to force it upon you. However, that wasn't really possible as of this moment. One of the reasons for this hatred was that you were never pinned down unless you wanted to be, even then they were usually too hesitant to follow through so you never really saw any practical use for the skill. That is until last week when you found yourself being pinned down by the Red Hood which was honestly a fantastic position if you weren't trying to get away from him. Apparently, the large man didn't take too kindly to being shot at even when your very professional self explained that you were in fact a decoy. After you were entirely unable to slip his hold, you begrudgingly agreed to let Slade teach you a few maneuvers. The other reason was that you liked being pinned down. Your body is far too enthusiastic about the feeling of being pinned down. You're pretty sure you've expended more energy into suppressing your thrilled shivers than you have trying to get out of any of the holds he's demonstrated so far. The fact that he was an attractive asshole with no shirt did not help.

"Maybe if you ask nicely, princess" He drawls his teeth grazing your ear, beard bristling against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You bite back a groan and stop the cant of your hips. "Or are you even capable of that?"

"I am, sir" You grind out but it sounds too breathy to be threatening. You feel the curve of his lips against your shoulder.

"Dunno, brat, I've never seen you do it," He taunts pressing closer to you. You're suddenly aware of just how close you two are. You hate how the way he called you brat sent thrills up your spine. You try to even your breath but you're entirely too feverish both body and mind. You had to think of something before you were lost in a haze.

You nudge your arm one last time before an idea strikes. A familiar shark-like grin spreads like wildfire across your features. Pressing your ass against his crotch, you roll your hips, the movement slow and deliberate and painfully tempting. Sure, it was a dirty trick but 1) he never said anything about using your assets 2) you've been wanting to do that since the first hold. You feel his muscles tense and you can't help but radiate smugness. Your smile vanishes, however, when he rolls his hips against yours giving you a feel of his hardened length through the thin fabric of your gym shorts. The slow, tantalizing friction against your core draws out a vulgar moan from you.

"Do you wanna run that by me again, brat?" He whispers low and husky emphasizing the last word with another grind of his hip. You pant, hips answering back with their own desperate movement. You want to let your hips keep moving, to make him move, to feel his cock against your core but pride flared in your chest. "Make me." You bite out. "I really should teach you some manners."You feel the low rumble of his answer in response seemingly amused by your continued resistance. He rocks his hips against yours drawing out another breathy moan from you. Out of spite you bite your bottom lip and rock your hips in tandem with his. What did you hope to accomplish from this? You don't know but it certainly felt good. Your skin feels hot and oversensitive as your bodies continue to move at this rhythm. The feel of his muscles rippling against you makes you arch your back. You wanted more but you had too much pride. As if spurred on by the movement, he presses a kiss on your shoulder and sucks at your flesh, a rough hand grips your waist tight enough to bruise. "Slade!" You choke out losing your composure. The cry sounds more like a plea than you would like. You sound so small and needy beneath his ministrations.

Distilling your anger into your weakening limbs you try to buck him off again. You make a small noise of triumph when he budges but whine when his grip on you just gets tighter. "Not quite, princess,"

He flips you onto your back. A hand pins both your arms above your head as he situates himself between your legs. His lips capture yours in a rough kiss, the type where you feel two bodies fighting each other for dominance. His teeth bite lightly against your bottom lip asking for entrance. You open your lips less in concession and more of a challenge. The wet muscles of your tongues entangle. Your nose is filled with the musk of him. It was overwhelming. You moan into the kiss and you feel him smile into it. Another small victory.

Slade ends the kiss having undeniably won the match. You try to move your hand to punch the grin off his face but again your hands don't budge. You curse his enhanced strength halfheartedly as the feeling of the heat coiling in the pit of your stomach takes over. Instead of diving back in for another kiss as you expected, Slade trails kisses down your jawline, your throat, and your collar bone leaving very defined very visible hickeys. There was something oddly possessive in his actions. The look in his eye was predatory.

You, foolishly, let your attention wander to your hands seeing what angle you could possibly force them into so you can slip his grip and maybe turn the tables. Your attention snaps back to him when the pressure around your chest loosens and the distinct sound of a zipper fills your ears. Your eyes widen as you watch as he unzips the front of your sports bra with his teeth. Your breath catches even as your chest fills with the lack of constriction. Your too hot skin is grazed by the training room's cold air. He places a kiss in the valley between your breasts but when you whimper and move slightly urging him to proceed. He moves on to your stomach. "Asshat" You seethe through gritted teeth. You let out a groan of frustration. You were going to kill him. You honestly don't care if you've just wasted half a billion dollars on this asshole.

His kisses drift down to your inner thigh drawing a moan from you. Slade chuckles seeing your desire seeping through the thin fabric of your shorts. He isn't entirely surprised considering how unsubtle you are about your interest. A rare moment of embarrassment blankets you. Your legs try to close but rough hands pry them apart placing them on his broad shoulders. You bite your lip when he plants a kiss on your inner thigh. Your lips are puffy and red at this point, looking delicious as you panted. Slade wonders how your lips would feel around his cock but he decides he'll save that for another time. He hooks his fingers on the waistband of your shorts and his eye widens momentarily when he doesn't feel a second layer of fabric underneath it. He looks at you incredulously.

You shrug trying to keep the mischief off your face looking absolutely unapologetic. "It's laundry day-" You shrug a little amused that this is the detail that caught him off guard. "-I did tell you I had stuff to do~"He also supposedly had stuff to do but, apparently, you were stuff. He chuckled and without dignifying your comment with an actual response, he rips your shorts off with ease and tosses them somewhere behind him. A complaint or a threat, you weren't entirely sure, died on your lips when his tongue gave your core a nice long lick. A loud, needy keen escapes you. Your hands now free from his grasp dig into his scalp. Pleased with your reaction he continues. His skilled tongue exploring your core hitting spots you didn't even know were there. Your hips meet to match his pace as he fucks you with his tongue. You whine when he withdraws his tongue but mewl loud and wanton when you feel two rough fingers stretching your insides. His mouth latches onto your sensitive bud, fingers pumping in and out. You throw your head back not being able to contain your moans.

"Look at me, brat," The command is deep and resonant. Your whole body buzzes with excitement. Slade can see your eyes dilate as his voice drops an octave.

"Yes," Your breath hitches when he doesn't move. "Sir" You add as a concession hoping it was enough. You felt your pride waning from the small piece of power being given away. Thankfully, he rewards you with another long lick before you can dwell on it. Slade watches as your face twists in pleasure trying your best not to throw your head back. You see the smugness on his face even when half of his face is buried between your legs. You don't attempt a threat simply because you don't trust whatever comes out of your mouth to be coherent. You were so close. You rock your hips trying to chase your high. Your skin is flush and glistening with sweat. You were so close. He feels your walls tightening around his fingers. Another needy keen escapes you as you were about to tip over the edge.

The motherfucker pulls back. You snarl at him but it comes out sounding more like a needy croon than anything else. He chuckles at you even as he captures your lips for another kiss. His tongue is thick with the taste of you. Your hand tangles itself into his hair while the other tugs at the waistband of his sweatpants. He pulls away giving your lips one last nip before his body is off of you. It's funny how just moments ago you wanted him off of you badly enough that you'd play any dirty trick you could think of but now your skin is burning for his touch. He takes off his sweat pants and his engorged cock slaps against his abs. It takes every brain cell at your disposal not to drool at the sight of it. He was BIG. You wonder briefly if he would even fit.

He spits on his cock rubbing his head against your thoroughly soaked folds. You mewl. A playful look in his eye does not go unnoticed but you were far too preoccupied with other concerns. Thankfully, so did he. Slade eases into your pussy in slow shallow thrusts. You can physically feel your walls stretching inch by inch as he works his way into your tight pussy. He can feel every bit of resistance your pussy is putting up. It's his turn to hiss when he finally bottoms out. Your walls cling to his member trying to milk it for all its worth. You drag your nails down from his shoulder to his arms. You pout when his skin heals immediately. You wanted to mark him as he did you but apparently, his healing factor was not up to being kinky today.

He laughs at your little protest and gives you a quick kiss. He begins to thrust shallow and languid. Your lips are locked in, sensually nibbling at each other's lips. You arch your back pressing your chest against his musculature savoring every bit of stimulation you could get. You cant your hips against his urging him to go faster. His large hand grips your hips and pins them down. The coil in your stomach grows tighter at the ease at which he stops you. You feel him grin against your hot skin.

"Didn't I say I would teach you some manners?" He pulls himself out leaving you feeling hollow and wanting. You're pretty sure if you weren't drunk on your arousal the look in your eyes would be nothing short of murder, however, this was not the case, Whatever venom you had in you vanished in a swirl of neediness that racked your body. Your cant your hips uselessly trying to find friction only to be met with cool air.

"Slade pleeeeaaase!"

You gasp, as a sharp stinging sensation on your pussy knocks the breath out of you. Slade gives you an expectant look.

"Sir, plea-"

Another slap. Your back arches. You’re panting heavy, mind swirling and searching.

"Daddy please!" The words tumble from your lips thoughtlessly. You both freeze. Slade's face is unreadable making you want to shrink away and let the earth swallow you whole. Panic rises in your chest until you feel his hips slam against yours. The force is enough to knock the breath out of you. He manhandles your body to fuck you at a better angle. His grip on your thighs tight and bruising. You whimper when he dips his head down near yours pressing kisses to your jaw and the pulsating flesh of your neck leaving your mouth free to moan his name like a mantra. A deep resonant growl rumbles in his chest sending thrills through your skin into your spine. Your hardened nipples drag against his chest as they bounce with his pace. His cock pumps in and out of you at an animalistic pace. You were absolutely going mad over his rough pace but it wasn't enough to push you over. You were both so close.

"Daddy, please! I- I need-" Slade's cock twitches. His pace goes from animalistic to punishing in the space of a heartbeat. He growls into your ear as he reaches down to rub your clit with skilled, calloused fingers. Your walls tighten around him as you go over the edge. Your orgasm hits you in a flurry of heat and electricity. He fucks you through it as he chases his own. He pulls out his cock. Ropes of cum covering your chest and your stomach.

He lays beside you pulling you close. You moan quietly still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, planting an open-mouthed kiss. You ease into his hold and close your eyes.

"See how easy your life is when you're a good girl, princess," He whispers mockingly into your ear. You raise a middle finger at him too fucked out to care whether it actually conveyed as much venom as you wanted it to.

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Thanks for reading! Next week will be our regularly scheduled fluff unless I get possessed by the thirst muses.

tag list: Tag list: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-horizondepeu , @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @knightfall05x

#dc smut #slade wilson x reader #slade wilson imagine #my writing #reader is a little shit #this is what I use my brain cells for yes

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