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staygolddindjarin · 3 years ago

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Grief

Chapter One: History

Din Djarin x Reader x a bunch of other star wars characters

Series Summary: Raised on Mandalore, born into a bloodline of warriors, no one ever expected for the daughter of a Clan leader to go rogue. Leaving the life of security and making the journey to fight in the war against the empire meant many things... giving up the way of the Mandalore, and giving up a solid future. A future that involves an arranged marriage to a foundling from another clan.

Chapter Warnings: Oof this ones kinda angsty right off the bat- ⚠️ attempted suicide?? Kinda?? Age gap (reader is underage, but don't worry it's just for the sake of backstory and also there's no spicy, so...) mentions of death and afterlife, fluff if you like squint really hard

A/n: hello there... I'm sorry to inflict tumblr with this atrocity, but wattpad had to deal with it so tumblr can too. I wrote a different version of this on my wp with an OC name, but I know that not everyone cares for that so this won't include that. Also this series will be such a slow burn... prepare yourself ahead of time because it's going to be agonizing

Words: 6.3k+

SERIES MASTERLIST UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Part 1/?

"Pehea gar mar'eyir ni...."

How did you find me....

He came and sat beside me, the sound of metal scraping agaisnt the ground when he knelt first.

"Gar cuyir te shi solus tion'ad comes olar jii. Ni kar'taylir gar jate'shya gar mirdir Ni vaabir," He responded.

You are the only one who comes here now. I know you better than you think I do.

I heaved a deep breath before letting it out in an exhausted sigh. Speaking in my native tongue was something I always appreciated, but now sitting here it felt nearly uncomfortable, but there was a reason for that.

"I wanted to be alone," The words from my mouth were no longer in my language, and he shifted beside me, trying to convey his confusion without a word.

"Care to elaborate?" He suggested, his asking tone was harsh... but then so was everything else about him.

I didn't really feel like explaning my feelings at the moment. I didn't want to focus on the very thing he was asking about. Even though he wasn't absolutely sure of what he was asking.

"You wouldn't understand if I told you," I trailed off.

"Try me." His voice wasn't any softer, but the sincerity he rarely showed had seeped into his tone.

"I really don't think it's a good idea. You really won't understand, and for all I know you could make things worse off for me than they already are," I didn't like it when he let his guard down around me. I didn't like getting closer to him, even though I was supposed to.

"I can't force you. Whatever it is, I wouldn't get myself too worked up," He sounded hurt, but I couldn't bring myself to believe it was by my words. He was too strong to be wounded by such trivial things.

He moved in his seat, beginning to stand, and for some reason the thought of being alone like I had originally intended seemed like a horrible idea.

I reached out to grip his arm. I kept my gaze forward, knowing that even if I looked at him I could not see his eyes.

"Stay."

He didn't hesitate. He sat down again, and I no longer felt guilt for the hurt in his voice a moment prior.

We sat for a moment in silence, just looking over the cliffside, into the deep canyons that wove in between settlements and encampments of our tribes and clans.

"I don't want this life," I whispered. I had only half hoped he would be paying enough attention to hear me. My voice was soft enough that he might not have.

"What do you mean?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, regretting the choice to even say what I did. I felt a shiver go down my arms, and I felt the wind come into the old open cavern, making the air around me chill. My arms were exposed, for I didn't expect the cold tonight. I didn't expect to be here this long.

"I'll turn sixteen in four days. I will either take the creed, or deny everything I've ever been taught. I'd leave if I do that," I finally gave a glance in his direction. He looked back at me, or at least the beskar did. I could never tell where his eyes were.

"You want to leave?" That pained tone of his voice had returned. The one I felt guilty for without actually believing I had done anything to cause it.

I did. I wanted to get off this planet. Away from the responsibility of becoming what everyone expected of me.

"I have to. It's the only way I will ever be at peace, but I'm not sure if I truly have the strength to stand in front of my family and deny the creed."

I could run away. I had some friends who were planning to jump a transport and join the rebellion against the empire.

They had offered me to be apart of this, but I had refused, believing that I would follow in my ancestors footsteps and take the creed. My father had already provided the beskar for my helmet to be made. It was already in the armourer's possession. All that was left was for me to come of age.

"Where did you go, just now?" He noticed my lack of attentiveness to my current reality, and brought me back to where I was. On the drafty cliffside, with my legs hanging over the end.

"Nowhere. I was just thinking about the future," I had admitted. Though I felt the need to stay emotionally distant from him, and not let myself develop a closeness, I knew I could trust him with my life, which is why I even revealed these things to him in the first place.

"What do you think your future will look like?" The tone that brought me guilt had again left his voice, but was replaced by something else... was it fear? I could not even think of theorizing that he could ever be scared. He was one of the bravest in his clan. Never had he shown an ounce of fear to anyone or anything. How stupid of me to even wonder.

"Merc and his crew are gonna stow away on a crate transport tomorrow. He has contact with the rebellion. He said that I could go with them if I was up for it," I looked down, almost embarrassed at admitting a plan of escape to someone so loyal to this place. Even though he wasn't born on this planet, and even though he wasn't a blood member of any tribe, the foundling was more of a mandalorian than I could ever be.

"You've agreed?"

"No. Not yet," I shook my head. I didn't feel like my reasons were valid. Having him sit beside me, and ask me these things made me realize that I needed to explain myself further.

"Din, I want to be free. I don't want to spend the rest of my life under a code that is so restricting to me, binding my every decision. Everything I'd do would have to be following after the creed."

He didn't respond, and even though his features were shrouded under the reflective surface of his beskar, I could tell he was thinking of something.

"I'm not yet sixteen, but when I am... I don't want to be locked down under a piece of metal. I don't want to have to be bound to this planet or a clan. I want to go some place far away and be something that is different than what everyone expects of me. I want to fight battles against the empire, I want to make my own rules. I want to be free to marry who I love, and not be betrothed to whoever my father chooses for me," I finished off my speech about freedom, but realized the last sentence too late. I should have chosen a better set of words.

Din's head hung down, looking at the wrist guards he wore. He shook his head back and forth and before I could interject, he began speaking.

"So that's why...." he trailed off. I was honestly too scared to say anything now. Why must I speak so bluntly and hurtfully honest to people? Perhaps it is because I had never gotten close to him that now I had no fear in what I said to his face.

"If the reason you plan to leave your family is because of me, then-"

"No," I said harshly, catching him off guard. I was usually snippy with others, but I had never before shown a tendency to be angry or intense with my speech. "Believe me, this has nothing to do with you."

"You have always shown enthusiasm towards coming of age. It's only now, when we are arranged, that you show any difference," He brought on certainty in his voice that I nearly couldn't deny, but the truth was... it really wasn't about him. "I can converse with your father, the rest of the clan... I will find a way to break it off if it will make you stay."

"Din, I don't want you to do that. If you don't believe me when I tell you that you are not the cause of this, then so be it, but I will not have you ruining your good name in my favor, when it won't even stop me," The heat of the moment provided actual, physical warmth for me in the time I was running my mouth off, but now that I had finished, and begun to calm down, I felt the freezing air on my arms again, wrapping them around myself and drawing my legs closer to generate more body heat.

"Are you cold?" He changed the subject, needing something- anything else to say.

"Its not exactly warm up here," My voice was low and sarcastic, but at hearing my words, Din stood up and stepped behind me. Before I even had a chance to ask him what he was doing, I felt his thick woolen cape being draped around my shoulders.

I smiled softly, not even a real, full smile. More of just a small tug from the side of my lips. My real smile was saved for later.

"Thank you."

He nodded as he sat back down, letting his legs fall over the cliffside.

"So you're gonna leave with them, aren't you?" His head turned to face me, but I couldn't dare try and stare at the beskar while thinking of what I would do. This choice was the beginning of the rest of my life.

"I think so," I didn't think. Thinking was what I had been doing too much of. Now I was certain. This was my choice. I was going to start new, and become something different. I may have been born on mandalore, but I was definitely not a mandalorian.

I had a rush of confidence come through me until I remembered what this meant. It all hit me like a dropship coming out of hyperspace. What was I thinking?

"No," I whispered. Din didn't understand my sudden discouragement, but he would soon.

"Merc and his friends already denied the creed. He's a foundling. They all are," I started to tear up as I realized what would happen to my family. The loss of a child in a clan is bad enough, but my family hadn't done anything to dessrve this. They were caring. They had shown me love. They had given me the best life I could ask for on a planet with such a religion.

"Second thoughts?" He asked genuinely, scooting closer beside me as to maybe get more information from my body language, or even my breathing.

"I can't do this. My family would be ruined. If I ran away, they would be punished for it," I felt tears coming up in my eyes. My clan was good to me. The people were kind, and I found solace there. Even if I had always dreamt about something bigger, I couldn't bear to let ruin come upon my family name. It wasn't fair to let that happen, especially when the only thing in the way was my own selfishness. "I can't leave my family."

I let the tears stream down my face, not even bothering to wipe them away. The contrast of the cold wind on my hot, tear streaked face had helped to calm me down a little.

"If you plan on staying, you understand that I am apart of your future here, don't you?"

"Din, I already told you before... you are not the reason I want to leave," I tried my best to keep myself together, but with my wet cheeks and red, puffy eyes, I didn't see how that could be an option.

What if there was another way to freedom?

I sat, trying to think of some stories that the other clan members would talk about.

"Din?"

He hummed in response, keeping his gaze on me.

"Has anyone in your clan ever mentioned afterlife?" I maybe should have taken a different approach to this. He seemed to be rendered speechless by my topic of conversation, but I had to ask.

"You mean after death?" He asked me and I nodded.

"I've heard some stories."

I thought about how it had been described to me. A paradise, with never-ending happiness, and unlimted freedom. Freedom.

"After you die, you appear in the world as another life. You can do whatever you want and no one has consequences for any of it. It's like a world without chaos. Everything is perfect," I remember every word as it comes out of my mouth. The words that were spoken to me, more like taught to me when I was a bit younger by the elders who had retired from their days of battle.

"It sounds too easy." He said, ripping me out of my fantasy.

"That's the point. You don't have to worry about anything or anyone, because you can do as you please, and everything will still be the same. All you have to do is die...."

"Like being reborn into a different world."

"Exactly."

I hesitated to take my safety blaster from it's holster under my hip, and when I did, I looked at it before pointing it out in the distance and testing the trigger. It shot a blast of lazer energy out into the air, landing somewhere beneath us in the canyon.

I decided that this was not an act to pursue at the moment, for Din was sitting right beside me, and the sight of watching a young girl pull the trigger against her own head might be an unpleasant one. Even for him, though he has seen worse.

I put the blaster back in it's holster and stand up from the rocky ground. Din follows suit, looking down at me with quiet concern. I wouldn't have known it until now, but I wondered if he had come to care for me at all during these last few weeks we had been betrothed.

I'd known him the majority of my life anyways, so I knew he must have felt some sort of attachment to me, but in what form, I hadn't ever cared to ask.

He kept breathing heavily as he looked down at me for a few moments, and it almost sounded like he wanted to ask me something. The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to utter the words.

"Here's your cape back," I slid the material off my shoulders, trying to hand it back to him, but he pushed it back towards me.

"You should keep it for now. The sun is nearly down, it will only grow colder."

He reached his gloved hand up to my face, and I could swear I felt the warmth of his hand beneath the coarse leather.

I only nodded, and leaned forward, trying to lean my head into him, but he carefully stopped me, his hands on my shoulders. Instead he rested his helmet against my forhead, and the cold beskar wasn't such a bad feeling as it rested there.

"I won't let you down. I promise." He said, clueless of my plans for later tonight, after the tribes were asleep, and no one would be at the cliffside.

"I know you won't. You're a good man, Din Djarin." I paused, trying to gather better words. "A true Mandalorian if there ever was one."

The moment didn't last any longer because of how frigid the air was becoming. It was warmer back with the tribes, they always had a fire burning.

Without another word, we both left the old artillery cavern and hiked down the side of the canyon to get back to our own clan territory.

Once I was at the edge of mine, I turned around to utter a simple goodbye, and found that he was very close behind me. His hand came up and rested on my shoulder, lightly squeezing it.

Maybe this was the last time we would see each other. Tonight I would envoke my plan to freedom, to rebirth. Perhaps we would meet in another life. Perhaps I would have just enough memory of this life to try and find him in the next one. One where I will have freedom.

Tonight I had gotten closer to the metal clad Mandalorian than I ever had before. I didn't regret it. He listened to what I had to say, and there were few who ever did.

His hand fell from it's place on my shoulder, but I didn't let him walk away yet. I pulled him into an embrace, feeling him tense up for a moment before reciprocating. It took him a few seconds to let out the breath he was holding in, but when he did, he found himself relaxing into the comfort.

"Goodbye, Din," My voice wasn't sad, or overly sensitive in any way. I figured it actually sounded quite optimistic.

"You know I'll see you tomorrow." He said, reminding me of the clan meetings. Once a month the clans would gather and each tribe would go over the agenda for whatever was to happen soon. Battles were normally discussed, but tomorrow, me and a few of the others in the other clans would be talked about. Our ceremonial coming of age where we would take the creed.

"Yeah... right. Don't come looking for me, I don't plan on showing up," I said quietly, careful in anyone was to hear me.

He pulled me back at arms length and looked at me, but his black blast shield hid his features and I could not tell if he thought I was crazy or not.

"How come?" His voice was also quiet, as we noticed some of my clan passing by to get to the fire.

"Don't worry about it. You'll still see me tomorrow," I lied. Or did I? Everyone within the five neighboring tribes would probably see me tomorrow.

He nodded, pulling us all the way apart and stepping back.

"Good."

He didn't look like he was gonna walk away until I had gone into the hub of my clan's small village. I turned around and walked towards the large fire, seeing my mother. Her helmet was unmistakable. The pattern of the strill engraved into the side of the beskar. It was her signet. A worthy kill of her days in battle. I would never have one. I walked towards her when she noticed me.

Her modulated voice let out a small chuckle, before I stepped beside her.

"It is well to see you spending time with Din Djarin. Me and your father were afraid you may not have been fond of him," She kept her gaze on the fire, speaking only loud enough for me to hear her, given that the other mandalorians of our village were also gathering around the fire, conversing with each other the same way we were.

"I am fond of him, why would I not be?" I was unsure of what she meant. Sure, I had been keeping a distance between us since my father had arranged our marriage, but I never had shown that I wasn't fond of him. I was polite, and gave him attention when it was asked of me.

"Whenever I or your father bring up the discussion of your eighteenth birthday, you always seem to act like it's the plague," She was smirking under her helmet, and I could tell. I could always tell what face she made underneath her metal covering.

"Maybe it's the fact that I dread getting married at all. I'm not opposed to Din, though," I convinced her. I wouldn't have to try and do that again after tonight.

"Whatever it is, your father will be pleased to know you and him were in each other's company. Although I will stray from telling him you two were alone... you were alone, weren't you?" She turned her metal covered head, trying to figure out from the look on my face.

"Yes," I answered truthfully, knowing there was no point in lying. No damage could be done at this point, except for maybe towards Din.

"And what were you both doing?" She tilted her head, and I let mine drop. I would tell her the truth, because nothing bad could come from it. Or could it.

"We were just talking... about the future," I answered.

"Your marriage..." She suggested, and I nodded, knowing that it did come up in the conversation.

"Yes."

"I shudder to ask if consummating was apart of this conversation," She looked back at the fire, knowing how red my cheeks would turn and how embarrassed I would be.

"No, nothing like that. I can promise you," I shivered at the thought. Din was a good man, but I didn't necessarily need to be letting thoughts like that intrude my mind.

Everyone else around the fire seemed to be distracted by the glowing flames, and my mother was soon the same, so I suggested my absense.

"I'm going to go in for the night, get some rest. Big meeting tomorrow..." I said before reaching out and squeezing her hand tightly.

She nodded to me, and I took my leave, walking towards our living quarters on the opposite side of camp.

I wasn't looking where I was going, and brushed my shoulder against Merc, who was with Gander and Shyloh.

"Sorry, didn't see you coming," I told him, but he shook his head, optiing ti ask me a question instead.

"Don't worry about it, I was looking for you anyway... Did you think about the offer? We leave at sunrise on the north delivery tarmac," He informed me, but I didn't have an answer. I wasn't staying here, but I wasn't leaving either.

"You'll know if I show up," I gave him a smirk, partially just because I was glad to see someone's actual face tonight, and not just a metal facade.

"We can't wait up for you, just know that."

I nodded, letting them get by. Maybe I could go with them. Live this life freely without starting another one.

No.

My family will not be able to handle that. It's better off if I'm dead. At least they won't go on to believe that I betrayed them, turning my back on all loyalty they had ever taught me. They would nevwr wonder if I ever loved them or planned on keeping their wishes.

I could start fresh. They wouldn't have to worry about me anymore. And I wouldn't have to worry anymore either. Rebirth.

I went straight to bed, clutching the woolen blanket beside me close to my chest.

For some reason I felt a pang of guilt in my chest. Something that made the sting of salty tears swell in my eyes. I knew that what I was doing was best, but yet I started having a hard time justifying something so drastic. They would get on fine without me, wouldn't they? They would go on living by the creed. This is the way. They will find a way to go on without me, like they did before I was born. Din will be arranged with another girl as soon as I'm gone. Everything will be alright.

The wetness that spilled over my eyes and down my face lasted hours, even though my mind kept telling itself that it was at peace.

It was in the dead of night, when I gathered a few of my belongings into a knapsack, throwing it over my shoulder before leaving out the tattered window of my private space.

I ventured to the canyon, with the moons lighting my way. The planet was never truly dark, due to the brightness and the number of shinning moons, all the color silver.

I set my knapsack down on the edge beside me. By the end of this, I would be at the bottom, waiting to be found the next day. I just hoped it wouldn't be anyone I knew. Of course, the number of people who ever came out here was only two. Me, and Din Djarin.

I hoped he wouldn't find me. I hoped it would be someone from another tribe that was flying over, and happened to spot something at the base of the cliffside.

I pulled my flask to my mouth, taking a large drink. A bit spilled onto my chin, and I wiped it off, feeling the breeze on my face. It was much colder now than earlier tonight. I wasn't sure if I should pull the blanket from my belongings and wrap it around myself, or skip the process of making myself comfortable and just get this over with.

I leaned over, looking straight at the ground, hundreds of feet below me. My heart started racing, and I got scared. Why shouldn't I be? I have every right to be absolutely terrified. I closed my eyes, trying to scoot myself over the edge inch by inch, seeing if I would just drop.

I nearly panicked when my bottom hit a crack in the ground and I thought I was going over. My breath hitched in my throat and I instantly pulled myself back.

"This isn't as easy as I thought it would be," I murmered, beginning to feel the emotional side of everything rise to the surface again. It didn't help that with the absolute silence that circled around me, I couldn't have any single thing to distract me.

I stood to my feet, wrapping my arms around myself to ease the goosebumps rising on my skin from the frigid air.

I stood right on the edge, lifting a foot over and leaning forward, but before I could fall, I again caught myself, the adrenaline working overtime in my system and beginning to heat me up.

That wasn't going to work either. If I could, I would put a blaster to my temple and pull the trigger, but then it wouldn't look like an accident.

I paced around back and forth a few times, trying to calm myself down, to stop the whimpering and to make my tears cease. It wasn't working. I just needed to get this over and done with. A new life, with endless possibilities was waiting for me on the other side. Freedom was on the other side.

I wiped my face, even though it didn't stop me from crying, but it helped me to see clearer. I backed up, into the cavern, all the way inside until my back hit the wall of the ex artillery carvern. This was it. A new beginning. Rebirth. New life. Freedom.

I ran as fast as I could toward the edge, my eyes closed. I could feel the wind blowing against me even harder with my speed, and I could tell the edge was drawing near. Every step I took, I felt as though it was my last one.

I finally felt my foot hit the edge, but then I never fell. Instead, I was tackled to the ground. Whoever landed on top of me was heavy enough to hold me down, because half of me was hanging off the edge of the cliff.

I didn't dare even open my eyes. This was a sign. Someone stopped me.

I clinged onto whoever it was, and knew almost instantly who was laid over me when I heard him groan.

I cried even harder, my head buried in his armor clad chest, and my arms around his neck and his torso.

He was holding me tightly, one hand cradled my head into his neck, and the other firmly gripped my waist. He rolled us both over and I swear I felt him shaking.

"What were you thinking?" He stressed, his grip on me tightening as if he was scared to let go. I was scared too. I didn't want him to let go.

"You have to talk to me..."

I heaved a deep breath, deep enough to steady my voice so my whimpering didn't interfere with my words.

"I want out. I need to get out," I cracked in the middle of saying so few words, but they conveyed the message I was trying to get through.

"I can get you out, I promise.... But please don't ever try that again," His voice was full of worry, and as I suspected, he was trembling in fear.

"I'm sorry..." I cried some more, realizing that what I had done was now the biggest mistake I ever made, even if I was saved.

"It's okay. You're okay. I've got you," He spoke to me, my voice quieting down as my sobbing came to a slow halt.

I lifted my face from where I had burrowed it into his neck, looking up at him. I didn't know what his expression was, but something told me it was fearful, and worrysome.

"I have to get out of here," I repeated again. The last day or so it became my mantra, and would leave my lips often, even just to myself. Mostly just to myself.

"You're going to. You're going with Merc... when are they leaving?" He asked, his arms still around me like mine were for him.

"At sunrise. They're gonna jump a delivery ship on the north tarmac," I explained, my voice was now hoarse and thick, due to not only all the crying I had done, but also the cold night air that had entered my lungs.

"Sunrise isn't for a few hours..." he let me know, and I nodded, knowing we shouldn't probably leave yet, for the walk to the north tarmac wasn't very long from here.

"Din, if I leave, my family is going to get the fire for my decision. I can't let that happen," I told him, my voice had become more firm, and I needed to convey the importance of how much this meant to me.

"I give you my word, that as long as I live, nothing will happen to your family," He swore, and I could just feel his eyes staring into mine. So much so that for the first time since he put that helmet on, I knew where his eyes were.

"I trust you. And I know that you'll always keep your word," I nodded, a small smile finally forming on my face.

Since it got fairly quiet, and we were still entangled together, I scooted off of Din and opted instead to take the seat beside him.

"I should tell you some things before I go. I just don't want to leave anything unresolved," I admitted, and he stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.

"I know this might sound horrible, but I hated the idea of getting too close to you. It was like if I had formed an emotional bond with you, I wouldn't be able to leave anymore. And the last thing on my mind had been to stay. I've wanted freedom for a while now, I was just always too scared to say anything. And when my father told me that you and him had come to an agreement for arranging a marriage.... it's like it all became more real to me. My freedom would be taken in just days. The creed of mandalore is sacred, and it's truly an amazing thing... but it isn't for everyone."

He sat and took everything in. All the words that just spewed from my mouth like I had been holding them in for ages went against everything I had ever learned. Everything that had ever been put into my mind was the opposite of what I wanted.

"You're young. You want more than what the creed can offer you. I think you'll be able to find what you want wherever you're going," He said, I knew there was more, for he didn't even mention anything that I had said about not wanting to be close to him, but when he stayed silent, I knew he was finished, and that I still had more to say.

"Din, I wanted to tell you that if I had to be married, I wouldn't have minded it being you," I admitted. I would leave no stone unturned before I was to just pick up and leave forever... maybe not forever, maybe someday I would return to my family, to Din.

"I can't say I don't feel the same," He seemed to become stiff next to me, but I soon found the reason when he suddenly reached for my hand with his gloved one.

I took it proudly, intertwining our finhers together.

"You know, I was only an eight year old kid when you took the creed. I have so many memories of you yourself, but whenever I recall them... I can't see your face. I've completely forgotten what you look like," I laughed a bit, though it was quite a sad thing actually. I could not remember him in a way that wasn't covered in metal. I remembered that he was a boy once, and that he would play with all the younger children in the clan set next to his. He played with me and the kids I lived next to. He was a lively, energetic boy. Always doing something... sometimes causing mischievous acts. He was so different now. But the change wasn't bad. Since he'd taken the creed he has been the most noble, fearsome, and trustworthy member of his clan. Completely honorable in every sense of the word.

"I don't look like I used to. It wouldn't do you any good to remember anyways," He chuckled under his helmet, and it brought a smile to hear the melodic sound.

"Well, if I'd stayed long enough to marry you I would find out for myself," I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling comfort by his presence. If I had made the absolute decision to leave this planet earlier, I could have let myself grow a relationship with him. Romantic or not, he was easy to talk to, and I trusted him. He was a friend to me, and I never imagined more, but now his presence was just something that put me at such ease.

"Do you think you'll ever come back?" He pondered, seeing as just the tiniest moonrays shown down into the canyon ahead.

"Someday. I'll comeback and repay you."

"For what?"

"Saving my life," I replied. My attempt to throw my own life away had been pushed away but I had to bring it up. I owed him my life.

"Anyone would have done the same if they had seen," He insisted, and I shook my head.

"How did you even know I was out here?" My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked for an explanation.

"I couldn't sleep, I took a walk through Ronion until I found myself here. I saw you across from the mesa on the south side... I saw you lift your foot over the edge, I knew what you were trying to do," He said, his grip on my hand got tighter almost instantly.

"Thank you. If you hadn't been there, I would be at the bottm of this canyon." I let so much seriousness onto my voice, and it didn't sound like me.

"Don't thank me yet... not until I get you on the tarmac,"

We sat in silence after that, just looking out over the horizon. When the slightest bit of light hit the edge of the planet, we stood to our feet, gathering my knapsack and begining the journey to the north delivery tarmac.

We were there in no time, and before I could even look for them, Merc and his crew were in sight. They were all sitting with their backs against some cargo imports, waiting for the transport to arrive.

"Well, well, well... look at what the shriek hawk dragged in," Shyloh said, gesturing to me and Din.

"Djarin, I didn't expect to see you here," Merc raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"I'm just here to make sure she gets onto the transport safely," He assured them. I looked out of the corner of my eye, and in the brighter horizon I was able to see a cargo ship coming into the landing area.

"Our rides here," I said, and they all jumped up. Since the ships were automatically run, and don't even require droids, it was often very easy to hop aboard and be carried to another destination. Of course, there were only a few who ever wanted to leave.

I myself hadn't ever left Mandalore, neither had I traveled much even on the planet. Only a few trips to visit the the markets with my father. I never even went into the city, for it was told that in the city lived Mandalorians who did not keep the creed. The tribes were convinced that they hadn't actually ever taken the oath, and just wore the armor for the sake of doing it.

The ship's doors opened, pulling me out of my thoughts, and a conveyer belt folded down to let the cargo units be carried out onto the tarmac for later pickup.

"Alright, it's time to head out," Gander said, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder and boarding the transport.

The rest followed after him, but I still had one thing left to do.

Din looked at me, waiting for me to join the others, but I came close to him one last time.

"You promise my family will be taken care of?" I asked, to which he simply answered with a firm nod. However the look on my face gave him reason to believe that his answer wasn't good enough, so he spoke instead.

"I give you my word. If they are not taken care of, I will let you strike me dead where I stand."

That was good enough for me. He truly meant it. He was a man of his word.

I pulled his head toward mine, resting ny forehead against his in a traditional mandalorian kiss. I pulled back when I heard my name being called from the transport.

"Goodbye, Din Djarin," I told him.

He didn't respond, he just let me go, watching intently as I boarded the ship before the doors closed.

The cargo transports were always on schedule, so as soon as the doors closed, it began lifting into the air. I looked out through the transparent view finder on the side, watching him stand as we began moving out of sight.

"You gonna miss him?" Shyloh asked, his brows furrowing as if he were sorry for me.

"Yes, I suppose I will."

I lost sight of Din, and realized we were leaving the atmosphere most likely preparing for a jump to hyperspace.

"But I'll see him again."

Tags are open ig...

A/n: please don't get too caught up in the age gap y'all it's just for backstory purposes because this story is eventually going to follow canon events.... (also i know that this doesn't really portray Mandalore correctly, but let's pretend it does because i had this idea)

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x oc #din djarin x jedi!reader #cassian andor #luke skywalker #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #rough day #din djarin series #din djarin imagine #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst

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aenaxes-moved · 3 years ago

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momentum

[hunter x afab!reader] hunter thinks it's a good idea for you to learn hand-to-hand. and if it's a way for you to see him sweaty, sleeveless, and in close quarters, who are you to turn down the perfect opportunity?

warnings: unprotected vaginal sex

w/c: 4.7k

a/n: i'm a simple creature—i see the sexual tension of hand-to-hand combat, and i am brought low. also the marauder has a cargo hold for literary purposes, now. anyways enjoy my first nsfw fic on this blog. reposting bc tumblr censored me :/

“Try again,” Hunter orders as he crouches down beside where you lie sprawled, chest heaving and arms limp on the training mat. “Just like I showed you: trap the wrist, lock the arm, twist and throw.”

“Unlike you,” you wheeze, struggling to lift your head off the floor, “I’m not exactly built to throw people around.” You forego your weak attempt to get up, and you swear you feel your teeth rattle as the back of your head hits the mat with a dull thud.

You turn your head, meeting the sergeant's piercing gaze with a weary half-grimace half-grin. There’s a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes—maybe incredulity—that he might be training a half-fledged jedi in the brutally graceful art of floorslamming an opponent over a shoulder while the others had taken Omega on a trip to meet the natives. It’s something you should know well, having spent your youth under the wild and unrelenting martial acrobatics of master Voss, but at the end of the day, you would choose swordplay over brute physicality without hesitation.

Especially if you’re facing off against an opponent who can and has hefted you high above his head and practically launched you across the training mat.

If Hunter’s amused at all by this knowledge, he only makes it known with a huff.

“Empire’s out for your head; you need to learn to fight in more ways than your fancy jedi training. That includes hand-to-hand just in case you lose your lightsaber. Again.”

“That was once, Hunter!” you whine, warmth spreading across your cheeks. But he’s right. Loathe as you are to admit it, no amount of force pushing would have gotten you out of that mess on Onderon, and it was a miracle (otherwise known as Echo) that you’d found your lightsaber at all.

It’s an embarrassing memory and, deeper down, a dangerous one that could have ended in more than stray blaster fire. Petulant as you would like to be, Hunter has a point. So you reach up, flapping your hand about until you feel Hunter’s hand wrap around yours, callused and firm, and yank you up to your feet. You stumble as you regain your footing, but as soon as you’ve collected your bearings, you’re shaking your hands out and bouncing on the tips of your toes.

“Fuck it. Let me try again.”

“Do you want me to go slower on the approach?” Hunter asks, this time, a sure note of playful teasing dancing over his tongue. The corners of his lips curl up, imperceptible to most, but you’ve flown long enough with the crew to pick up on his slight giveaways. You narrow your eyes, fixing him with an accusatory frown.

“‘Imps won’t slow down for you y/n,’” you parrot his words with a sour expression, begrudging theatrics complete with an exaggerated eye roll.

Hunter laughs, but he’s already drawing back into a low crouch, arms raised and muscles coiled, ready to strike. You take the brief moment of clarity between your warm up and readying stance to admire him, his hair tied with his bandana, piercing eyes set in a razor focus as his chest rises and falls, even, steady. The sharp clarity is made complete, authentic, with his garb. Having swapped his standard blacks for a sleeveless top, a sheer veil of sweat glimmers brushed over the toned muscle rippling under his skin. It’s an appealing point of motivation, a reward for the small price of being thrown around for the past hour.

“You’re learning,” Hunter smiles, small and crooked, but a smile that breaks past his stolid stoicism nonetheless. “Attagirl.”

Your heart flutters, and you lunge.

Two rapid steps, and you’re meeting Hunter in the middle as he rushes towards you. Right foot, anchor heel, pivot, and the sharp wind of his arm shooting forward nearly knocks the breath from your lungs as it just barely brushes past your cheek.

He’s fast. But you’re faster, you challenge, and you shoot your left arm up, closing your grip with your right hand and trapping his forearm in your hands just beneath the hem of his glove. And when you find secure purchase, confident enough that he can’t counter, you yank with a sharp, vindictive shout. For the first time today, your grip holds.

You feel him roll over your shoulder, guided by your hand, compelled by gravity, and you’ve won. After all the blocks and parries and attacks-turned-scrambling-defenses, you’ve got Hunter exactly where you want him. Hunter may have size, bulk, experience—well, everything other than the Force—that you don’t, but if he’s taught you anything during your time with the batch it’s that timing is king.

You whoop as you feel his back roll off yours, squeezing your eyes shut as you claim your victory into the empty cargo hold.

You forget, however, the unspoken and very important step of letting go.

As soon as the split-second of simple victory flashes through you, you yelp, pulled off your feet and centre of balance flung off to the far reaches of the room. You’re reduced to an ungraceful flail of limbs and panicked disorientation as you fall, bracing yourself for an imminent collision and a sure promise of a bruise the day after. But instead of the forgiving, plasticky foam of the floor, you land with a soft oof on something else, harder than the mat, damp, bony…?

When you open your eyes, you’re propped up on one elbow, your other shoulder dipped close against Hunter’s chest, and your nose just a breath away from his collar, and, Maker help you, you can see his collarbones, sharp and clean through his blacks, rising and falling rhythmically with his heavy, straining breaths. You lift your head just in time to meet Hunter’s eyes, lightly curtained by one single swath of perfectly mussed stray hair, pupils blown wide with pride, wonder, and—

Shit.

“Uh, yay me?” you offer weakly, hoping you can blame the tremble in your voice on bone-deep exhaustion, not the blooming heat roiling in your gut.

“Yeah,” Hunter says, eyes trained on yours, steady and still.

It doesn’t take force sensitivity to feel the tension buzzing high in what little space separates your faces, the boundaries of playful sportsmanship bowing under the weight of testing curiosity, circling, prodding. The breath that passes your lips quivers, of which you’re only aware when you see Hunter’s eyes flick briefly to your lips. He lingers a moment, and you swallow hard, almost audibly, when you catch a flash of his tongue darting over his lower lip.

It might be an adrenaline high—his dilated pupils, the wild thumping of your heart against your ribs. High velocity combat and being thrown flat onto your back would do that.

You hope it isn’t.

The silence is enough to steal the sound from your tongue, just low breathing as you hover above him. It demands to be broken, something to be the first push back into the rhythm of which you have become so accustomed, the comfortable banter and competition devoid of anything more than meaningless flirting. Because for his ruggedly handsome looks, his commandeering presence, an aura that had men and women sending him drinks from across the bar, you had never let yourself seriously entertain the idea of being able to have him.

It’s hard to entertain attraction, much less romance, when you and the batch are high priority on the Empire’s list to shoot on sight, but the possibility has kept you awake at night, fingers shoved between your thighs while he sleeps two doors down. The fantasy of having, breathing him in like air, makes you feel alive, makes you feel the rare and fleeting feeling of safety. You, exiled jedi. Him, one of millions, the dedicated soldier sworn to a cause.

And yet, here you are.

Hunter lifts one hand from the floor, reaching up to brush the hair from your eyes, and you find yourself having to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from turning your head and nuzzling into his palm, from pushing close and staying, indulging. And while your mind blurs in the frantic flurry of fighting it, he gives in freely, turning his wrist to run his gloved thumb over your jaw. It’s the softest you’ve ever found standard issue blacks to feel, but more importantly, it’s the closest he’s ever been.

“Yay you,” he whispers.

Hunter leans forward, sliding his hand across the side of your neck, his thumb soft at your ear as he curls his fingers into your hair and closes the distance. One moment there’s a vast breadth of space between you; the next, you feel Hunter’s nose brushing over your cheek, his breath ghosting over your skin for that last moment of separation. Then you’re moving with him, meeting his lips with soft motions pleading for more as you slide one hand up into his hair and press your chests flush.

He doesn’t taste quite like your dreams, all smooth, sweet freshness dancing over your tongue. Instead, there is raw exhaustion and strain bitter and heady on his skin as he licks over your lower lip. But no matter; it is real and present and Hunter all the same.

The training room silence is broken when he nudges a knee between your legs, pressing close between the want pooling low in your belly, as you barely manage to muffle a whimper into his mouth, breathy and high as you break away to gasp. Hunter grants you that moment of rest, and he’s pulling you back down against him again, holding you tight.

“I’ll stop if you want,” he mumbles against your lips. “We stop, and we forget this ever happened. But.” He pauses to nip at your lips. “You give me the word, and we take this as far as you want, y/n. Understood?”

You nod, too busy chasing his tongue to feel his gaze fixed on you. And, as always, your blissful ignorance does not escape Hunter’s watchful eye. You whine as you feel his fingers close around your chin and lift, pulling away just enough that you can see his dark eyes steady on yours.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whimper, reduced to little more than pleading submission, doe-eyed and dreamy as he slowly runs his thumb over your lip. “Want you, Hunter. Need you.”

“Attagirl.”

He makes a noise that sounds like quiet laughter, but all you care about is that he’s nuzzling against your skin and holding you close. Hunter kisses you with a trembling restraint that you practically feel vibrating under his touch, the excitement of being able to have, the roiling fear of intimacy, vulnerable and open under your palms.

It’s something you know well. You feel the same.

“We should really wash up,” he murmurs into your mouth.

“‘Fresher’s big enough for two,” you say a bit cheekily.

“You really want it all, huh?” Hunter chuckles, squeezing the back of your neck as he presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Never get anything if you don’t ask,” you smile against his lips.

“Can’t disappoint the lady, then, can I?” he grins, dropping his head back down onto the training mat. You sigh, resting your cheek on his collar for a single breath before you feel him shift beneath you, pulling you into his lap as he sits upright. Hunter offers you a final peck, a promise for more in just a short while.

You silently promise you’ll return to the hold come morning and clean up the mats before Echo can chew you out for any sloppiness, but cleanliness is the least of your concerns as you stumble with Hunter towards the threshold, all soft laughter and kisses strayed off their mark. Whatever concerns about anything other than the bliss of the now are even more obscured as the refresher doors slide shut behind you. You laugh as Hunter twists out of his blacks, which almost has you tripping out of your own, but he’s there to catch you, sturdy arms and warm skin to pull you into the stall and under a startling shock of cold water.

Maybe it’s that brief shock of cold before the showerhead runs warm that offers you a moment of clarity, the space and quiet to realize where you stand and take in the man before you. You’re no stranger to proximity, having spent more than one mission squeezed up against Hunter’s side, but closeness doesn’t begin to describe where you stand now, bared to each other beyond simple undress.

A smattering of scars stretches over Hunter’s skin, an organized chaos of milky pockmarks and slashes so often hidden under his armor. You recognize a few, blaster fire and frightened memories of blood and acrid fear, and the rest you save for a later night when you’ve sated the flutter in your chest as your eyes drift lower.

It would be embarrassing, how your mouth waters when you catch sight of his cock, half-hard and framed by a dark thatch of curls. But any need for shame is dismissed by the sheer gravity of want because he’s thick. You had always imagined him to be big—that isn’t much of a surprise—but your stomach churns delightfully at the thought of him stretching you open, making you feel him for days after.

“You’re staring,” Hunter huffs softly.

“Can you blame me?” you breathe.

Hunter laughs, rich and resonant over the patter of the shower spray, and he reaches that short distance forward, gently taking your hand in his and lifting your palm to his lips. You step backwards, letting him crowd you between the wall as you cup his cheek.

His hands, rarely bared to his brothers, let alone you, are strong and weary with scars of war, and he lets them follow the slope of your arm, tracing down your shoulder, your waist, and coming down to your hips, seeing in full clarity under his fingertips.

“Hold on tight.”

“Hunter, wait—ah!”

You yelp as he slips his forearms under your thighs without warning, hefting you up against the cool metal. In your hazy delirium, it occurs to you that you’re both exhausted from sparring and that him holding you up would only wear him down further. You want to tell him you’re perfectly fine on your feet. But whatever protest you may have had planned dies on your lips with a choked sob when you feel his fingers knead into the soft skin of your thighs and tug.

You arch off the wall, breath catching in your throat when you feel Hunter shift his hips forward and anchor you in place as he grinds his cock over your clit. Any hope of forming coherent words, let alone sound, is completely beyond you, now. Heat coils in your gut, all-consuming, white-hot tension pulled tight and ready to snap with each slow motion he makes.

And—the bastard—he’s good at it, too, leaving you squirming under his grip when he shifts away, cruelly aware of the brief moment just as your pleasure crests. Hunter lets you whine, filling the space with firm, insistent kisses over your collar: enough time for your high to ebb, enough time for him to stoke the frustration, the need tight in your core. Then he’s pressing your hips against the wall again and chasing you forwards, hips flush as he nips over your jaw.

All you find yourself able to do is dig your nails into his shoulders and sob.

“Shit, are you crying?” Hunter gasps, nearly dropping you down into a helpless heap under the warm water.

You shake your head wildly, locking your ankles around the small of his back as you keep him in place. It’s enough to startle him back into stillness, and he readjusts his grip on your thighs, the weight of his cock heavy against your throbbing cunt as you gasp for breath.

“I just—I’m fine,” you laugh, bordering delirious as stray drops of water catch on your tongue. “Just fuck me, Hunter. Make it better,” you breathe, chest heaving as you lick your lips. “Please.”

You know the expression that flashes across his face, the need to tease and prod, making gentle light of a dire situation. But this time, Hunter does not entertain it with his signature deadpan drawl, instead meeting you with a soft, imploring kiss.

“So pretty when you beg,” he whispers.

You open your mouth to offer a snappy retort; even in your desperation, there must be some dignity. Instead, your ears fill with the sound of your stuttering gasp over the water pattering against the refresher walls as, finally, finally, you feel the blunt head of his cock dip into your cunt.

Hunter pushes into you with a maddening slowness, one that reduces you to breathless whimpering broken between what gasps you can take. You dig your heels into his back and meet him with a straining moan because Maker, he’s even bigger than you thought, and it’s everything you’ve ever needed.

“Gotta breathe,” Hunter grunts, sinking deeper into you.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a reminder for you or for him, but you manage to slip in a gasping breath before he’s nudging up against a spot that has tears blurring your vision in dizzy euphoria. And when you come down from that high spark, legs jerking over his arms, he’s still pushing impossibly deep into you.

You watch him in a dazed trance, fixed on how his brows furrow with each quiet, flinching gasp that passes his parted lips as your cunt flutters around him. And how, through it all, his eyes never leave yours, boring into you with a fierce intensity, devotion, demanding your attention and pleading for your touch. It’s more than pure physicality, sex under the crushing uncertainty of a bounty and the shadow of conquest at your heels. He reaches for you, as open as he’s ever been, and you reach back.

“Hunter, I—”

Your words give way to a long, aching moan as you feel the sharp dip of his hips finally press up against your ass, filling you like you’ve always been meant to take him. (And you have, you swear, to him, to everything you know.)

“Gonna start moving, okay?” Hunter says through a shuddering sigh. He trails one hand up your side, thumbing over your chin while you tremble in his arms. “Cyar’ika, tell me I can.”

“Please,” you whimper.

And he delivers. You whine, feeling the slow drag, the toe-curling burn as Hunter eases almost completely out of you then pushes back in, just as slow as the first. He’s measured in his motions, and if you could see past the tears welling in your eyes, you’re sure you would see the razor focus over his features. There’s a tense edge you can barely make out from your slack-jawed disorientation, a restraint behind each careful thrust. He’s savoring it, you think as you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

But when Hunter jerks forward, punching the breath from your lungs as he drives up hard, pulling an obscene noise from your lips with a stuttering apology, you realize it’s not some way to draw this out as long as humanly possible. And as good as it is now, it’s not enough.

“H-Hunter,” you start. “Hunter, you—you don’t have to hold back—!” Your voice rises to a wavering pitch when you feel his thumb trail down your stomach, nestling close above where you part around him as he starts to rub gentle motions into your clit.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps sharply with you when he presses deep again.

“You—you physically threw me across the cargo hold—like an hour ago,” you laugh through hiccupy sighs.

“That was different,” he chokes out a soft chuckle. “I want this to be good. For you.”

Trembling wildly, you muster the strength to lift your hand to his cheek, stroking over his wet skin as the refresher patters down around you. The aching stretch of Hunter’s cock between your thighs ebbs into something sweet, warming your chest when he turns his head to kiss your palm.

“You are good to me,” you whisper, brushing your thumb over his skin. “I want this. I want you.”

You hear him inhale sharp, holding his breath as he meets you with dark eyes, wide and searching. To his gaze, you offer him a soft smile. And it’s enough.

You barely have enough time to loop your arms around his neck and hold as Hunter shifts his grip, firm and high up on your thighs, and starts a brutal pace that has you near screaming into his neck. Your legs jerk helplessly with every relentless thrust, and you find yourself knotting your fingers into his hair, cradling his head for some—any—purchase you can find.

It’s reminders like this that while Hunter doesn’t have the imposing stature or towering height of his brothers, his sheer presence alone is overwhelming, surrounding you and consuming you whole in ways the others simply could never. The power is intoxicating, crushing in its pressure, the submission and release to pleasure it demands of you, and you sob, a whiny, choked sound you barely hear over the frantic, wet slap of Hunter’s skin against yours. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and it’s so, so achingly good.

“Fuck, I’ve always—” Hunter gasps, craning his neck to nuzzle up against your jaw. “I’ve always wanted to do this. To have you like this.” You turn your head, meeting him in a lopsided kiss, all tongue and shared breath. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

“More,” you whine, crying out when he pins you against the wall, just so he might reach between your thighs again and thumb insistently over your clit.

Even with the water showering over your skin, you’re distinctly aware of the tears streaking down your cheeks, only fitting for the overwhelming sensation building in your core, cresting in blinding heat with every drag, every ridge of his cock moving inside you.

He fucks into you with soft noises, low enough that they might be drowned out by the sound of water if you weren’t pressed so close. It’s fitting, that the stolid discipline of a sergeant might follow him off the battlefield and into the bedroom, but as characteristic of him as it may be, you can’t bring yourself to particularly care—not when he’s holding you up like a ragdoll and bending you to his pleasure. You cling tighter to him with a muffled sob.

It’s nothing like your nights alone in your bunk, wishing for a warm body and something more than hopeful fantasy. Where your fingers only offered you a shot of momentary bliss, this feels like you’re falling apart in his hands, utterly powerless in only the best of ways as the coil in your gut draws tight.

“‘m close,” you croak as the heat seeps bone-deep, spreading down your spine, blazing in the tips of your fingers, and finding home in the buzzing haze between your eyes. “Hunter, I’m—I’m so close.”

“Let go,” Hunter croons, bearing the rough pad of his thumb harder against your clit, pressing firm with every thrust forward, soothing as he draws back. Your cunt squeezes down around him with the spike in want pooled in your gut, drawing a low moan from his lips, and he meets you with a thrust hard enough that you squeal. “Doin’ so well, cyar’ika.”

Trembling, you bury your nose in the juncture of his neck, but you’re pressed backward instead, a light, unyielding pressure at your neck before the back of your head is guided against the metal wall. Hunter holds you at the throat, nothing but a hovering presence of his warmth over your skin, but enough that he commands your attention, steady gaze, pupils blown as he thrusts up against you, pushing you higher and higher against that mindless gap of pleasure with every intent to pull you apart.

“Look at me, y/n,” he murmurs, low and hoarse. “Look at me when you come.”

He drives into you once more, hard, and the tension mounting in your gut breaks like a dam, flooding over your tongue in sweet, simple pleasure that pulses and shudders through your core. You feel it like your body, your visceral pleasure, is not your own, floating in a mindless state of bliss no longer anchored to anything but your rapidly beating heart and the shivering tremors buzzing at your fingertips. Lips parted in a silent cry, your lashes flutter as you let yourself be swept up in the peak of your pleasure, swept up in him, his gaze trained firm, fond on yours.

And you’re too fucked out to do more than gasp, breathy, stuttering inhales as Hunter settles his hands around your waist and starts a pace impossibly faster than before. Somehow, through the aching tremor in your legs and your limp form pressed up against the wall, you manage to keep your grip steady and keep your arms wrapped snug around Hunter’s shoulders. He pulls your pleasure, agonizingly long with no end in sight, chasing his high as you whimper and plead unintelligibly into his ear.

“C-Close?” you manage, digging your fingertips deeper into the sinew of his back.

Hunter hums, a feeble attempt to keep what little composure he has left, but you feel his movements lose the steady rhythm he had maintained thus far, forgoing fluidity and grace for the raw and primal need to satiate. Lucid sensation beyond you, you simply let him take his fill, lazily running your tongue over his lips and holding him tight as he continues to fuck into you with erratic, stuttering thrusts.

And not a moment later, Hunter bears your hips down hard on his, gasping like he’s taken his first breath of air as his climax thunders through him. You squirm in his hold with a thready groan, reveling in the warm spurts of come filling your cunt and oozing down the curve of your ass onto the refresher floor. For all your exhaustion, you curl your fingers at the base of his neck, pulling him close into a slow, lazy kiss, more languid touches than an actual kiss, but a promise of intimacy all the same.

Hunter tips forward and shifts one arm to wrap snug around the small of your back, propping you both against the wall with the other as the tension drains from his coiled poise. He sags forward with a final, shuddering sigh, pulling out of you and setting you on your wobbly feet, to which you promptly pitch forward against his shoulder.

He laughs and catches you with breathless ease.

“I have no idea how we didn’t slip,” you gasp through heaving inhales, shuddering as you feel warm rivulets of come dripping down the skin of your inner thigh. As the pleasure subsides, you return to your surroundings in a haze, faintly aware of the running showerhead, the steam, and you drop your head forward, knocking your forehead gently against Hunter’s.

“Neither do I,” he laughs and nuzzles close. “Next time, we’ll pick somewhere with less water.”

“Next time?” you prod, knowing full well that neither you nor Hunter were particularly fond of mindless flings.

“Next time,” Hunter grins, tipping his head forward and brushing his lips over your brow.

“If you two are done in there!” Echo’s voice, exasperation weary and gruff, cuts through the patter of water against the metal paneling with a bang, nearly sending you and Hunter scrambling apart if the refresher stall wasn’t already so narrow. “We need showers!”

“What do you mean ‘you two?’” Omega chirps from outside the door. You have to clap your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing aloud as you watch the rosy pallor drain from Hunter’s face as you hear her muffled protests as someone (likely Wrecker) coaxes her away.

“Not it—you’re giving her the talk,” you quip, biting back a smile as you peck his cheek.

“Maker help me,” he mutters.

#argh tumblr censored my first post #anyways #i originally wanted to write a sparring scene with wrecker but. i think that wouldn't really give you a fighting chance #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #bad batch x reader #yaej.writes #filter

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mldrgrl · 4 years ago

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The New Addition

by: mldrgrl rating: PG-13 Summary: Hanella welcomes a guest for the weekend

Even more rare than a call from Becca was a FaceTime. Texting was more her style. So, when Hank picked up his phone and saw the incoming video call, he answered immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“That’s how you answer your phone?” Becca said. “Why does something have to be wrong?”

“Many apologies, Daughter, but the infrequency with which you grace us with your face from a remote location are rare as natural breasts on a porn star.”

“Do you think that’s an appropriate thing to say to a daughter, Father?”

“Fuck no, but surprise calls make me nervous. What’s up, Kitten?”

“Don’t ever call me that again. Is Stella there?”

“Yeah, I think she was grading some exams or something, hang on.” Hank turned away from the phone and leaned over the sofa to try to see down the hall to the back room she was using as a study. “Stella! Stelllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

“Oh my god, why are you screaming at her?” Becca said.

“I like to take the opportunity to rehearse my Stanley Kowalski impression when I can. Here she comes.”

Stella came down the hall with her hands on her hips and her brows raised. Hank held his phone up so she could see Becca on the screen and she immediately dropped her hands from her hips and softened her brows, but she quickened her step.

“Becca, darling,” Stella said. “What’s the matter?”

“This is why I only text,” Becca said.

“Well, if you called more, we wouldn’t think shit had hit the fan somewhere.”

Hank opened up his arm as Stella came around to the sofa and sat down. She leaned against him and he adjusted his grip on the phone so they were both in the frame and so that she could also see Becca.

“I have someone I want you to meet,” Becca said.

“How the hell did you meet someone during a pandemic?” Hanks asked. “Oh my god, are you online dating? You know those people usually turn out to be serial killers.”

“Dad!”

“Darling, don’t worry, it’s still statistically a very low probability even if related crimes have been on the rise. Give me his name and social security number and I’ll run a background check.”

“Or her,” Hank interjected. “We’re still holding out hope she’s a lesbian.”

“This is the last time I am ever calling you,” Becca said.

“Does your mother know about this guy?”

“Or girl,” Stella added.

Becca sighed and rolled her eyes. She leaned down and tilted her phone at the same time so the view was of her ceiling and then she came back into frame with a small, brown poodle. “This is Ziggy,” she said. “A friend of a friend of mine was giving away her dog’s puppies and I picked him up this morning.”

“Lovely,” Stella said. “He’s very handsome.”

“I haven’t even met him, but I guarantee this is my favorite guy you’ve ever introduced me to,” Hank added. “Now you’ll be far too busy for online dating.”

“I’m not online dating, but I’m wondering if you can do me a favor?”

“What’s the favor?”

“Next month I have the writer’s retreat scheduled upstate. It’s just for a long weekend, Friday to Monday, can you watch Ziggy for me? He’ll probably be housetrained by then. Maybe. Hopefully.”

“Of course,” Stella answered, as Hank also said “Not a chance.”

Becca grimaced slightly. “It’s just that I’d really rather not have to put him in a kennel. I guess I can call Mom and see if she can pick him up, but it’s so far.”

Stella squeezed Hank’s knee. “You don’t need to call Karen,” she said. “We would love to watch him.”

“Fine,” Hank said.

“Thank you.” Becca smiled and held the dog closer to the phone. “Ziggy says thank you as well.”

Hank ended the call and then turned to look at Stella. She tipped her head back to look at him as well. He tried to scowl and she smiled.

“Why did you say no?” Stella asked.

“Why did you say yes?” he countered.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

“Because I don’t see a reason to say no.”

“Because I got her a dog once and where do you think that dog is now?”

“I wouldn’t know, where is it?”

“I have no fucking idea, that’s the point. I went through all the trouble to steal the little fucker from the boyfriend of this woman I was...uh, actually it’s irrelevant how I acquired the dog, let’s just say I got a dog for Becca and fuck if I know what happened to the late, great Cat Stevens.”

“What in the world does Cat Stevens have to do with it?”

“That was the dog.”

Stella patted Hank on the knee and then tried to get up from the couch, but Hank pulled her back down. “I have to grade papers,” she said.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew about the naked shower party I’m having tonight.”

“Wouldn’t any shower party be naked by virtue of being a shower party?”

“That’s a very good point, Sherlock. I’d revise the invitation, but I’d rather just be redundant.”

“Mmhm.” She pushed on his knee and this time he let her up. “Text me the details, I need to get back to grading.”

“What, like a dick pic?” he called after her.

She glanced over her shoulder at him with one eyebrow raised. He waited until she was back in the study to unbutton his jeans.

*****

Becca dropped the dog off on a Friday morning, bright and early. Stella was awake to prepare for one of her classes, but Hank was still asleep. He didn’t hear the drop-off, but when he woke up and wandered into the kitchen to make coffee, he tripped over the dog, stubbed his toe, and shouted a ‘motherfucker’ so loud he was pretty sure he was going to get scolded for it later. The dog ran away.

“Yeah, you better run,” Hank mumbled, limping to the coffeemaker. “Fuck.”

Stella startled him not a minute later when she smacked him on the ass. He jumped and rubbed at his stinging backside, turning to her with a pout. She was holding the dog in her arms and it was whimpering and holding on to her neck with its head turned away from him.

“What was that for?” he grumbled.

“First, for shouting expletives whilst I was on a lecture.”

“I’m sorry, Sherlock, I didn’t mean to. Did they hear me?”

“No, fortunately, I was on mute. There are student presentations today. Which I must return to.”

“The damn dog tripped me and I stubbed my toe. It might be broken.” He leaned against the counter and lifted his foot up to show her his foot. “See.”

Stella reached out and took a light hold on his toe. He made a face at her and she gave it a rough tug to which he yelped and pulled his foot back.

“You’re fine,” she said.

“You’re mean.”

“Please don’t make enemies with Becca’s dog for the weekend.”

“He started it.”

Stella handed the dog over to Hank and gave it a scratch on the head before she walked away. “I put the instructions on the refrigerator,” she said. “Give them a read and then make yourself useful and take him for a walk.”

Hank pulled a sheet of instructions out from the magnet on the refrigerator and read through them. They were very detailed. Too detailed. He wanted to crumble them up into a little ball and burn them.

“Ridiculous,” he said to the dog. “When we left Becca with the babysitter the only unwritten rule was just not to kill her. You’re a dog, you should be pretty self-sufficient. Just don’t piss on the rug and don’t shit in any of my shoes and we’ll get along fine. Deal?”

The dog twisted and wriggled in Hank’s arms to be put down and so Hank put him on the floor. The dog sat down and then lifted a paw to scratch at Hank’s knee.

“Make up your mind, Zig. Up or down, what do you want?”

The dog barked once and then sneezed.

“I don’t speak canine.”

Ziggy whined softly and pawed at Hank’s knee again. The coffeemaker beeped behind Hank and he turned around to shut it off. He poured the coffee into a travel mug and left the cap off so it could cool a bit.

“Okay, Stella says you need a walk,” he said. “I need to put some pants on. Don’t lay anywhere where you blend into the floor. I need my toes.”

The dog followed Hank into the bedroom and immediately jumped on the bed. Hank shooed him off and undaunted, he explored from corner to corner, sniffing the walls and the furniture and the clothes on the floor. Hank snatched up the jeans Ziggy was nosing and put them on. He grabbed a fresh t-shirt from the closet and then went to dig through a duffel bag that Becca left for the dog’s leash.

It took Hank several attempts at getting the harness onto the dog. Number one, because he kept stepping out of it as soon as Hank got it on one foot. Number two, because he initially put it on backwards and didn’t know how the clip could possibly work when it was under the dog’s chest. He finally figured it out though and it seemed secure. He grabbed his keys, his wallet, a mask, and the coffee and headed to the elevator.

The half an hour walk with Ziggy made Hank understand the meaning of the term ‘boundless energy.’ If it wasn’t for the coffee, he couldn’t be sure he’d have made it. When they got back, he unclipped the dog from his harness and even though it felt like they’d just run a marathon, Ziggy dashed across the room and hurdled himself onto the sofa where Stella was now sitting. To Hank’s surprise, Stella laughed as she dodged excited kisses from the dog and didn’t scold him at all or tell him to get down.

“I am exhausted,” Hank said, collapsing onto the sofa beside Stella. He grimaced and let out a pained ‘oof’ as the dog stepped on his crotch and up onto his chest. “Fuck me, this dog is trying to kill me.”

“Have a nice walk?” Stella asked.

“That thing had to piss every five feet and terrorize all the squirrels and pigeons in the neighborhood.” Hank pushed Ziggy away when he tried to lick his chin and the dog laid down on his chest, panting hot and heavy in his face.

“How’s your toe?”

“What toe? Oh. Not broken, I guess.”

“Lovely.”

“He is a total chick magnet though,” Hank said, waggling his eyebrows at Stella. “Ladies were flocking to me like flies to honey. Almost got a few numbers.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t worry I told them my wife would kick my ass before she let me take a hot girl’s phone number.”

“I think I might join you for this afternoon’s walk.”

Hank chuckled and nudged Stella’s leg with his knee. “Kidding, Sherlock. Some kid did ask me if Ziggy had an Insta and then had to explain to me that any dog who’s anydog has an Instagram account and we should get on it the sooner the better if we want him to be a doggie influencer.”

“A what?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Looks like you have a new nap partner.” Stella inclined her chin towards the dog, who had dropped his head down to Hank’s shoulder and let out a deep sigh as his eyes closed. She smiled a little and stroked the dog’s back a few times.

“I didn’t know you liked dogs so much,” Hank said.

“More of a cat person, really. I don’t mind them though.”

“Did you read that list Becca left? It’s more complicated than the Treaty of Versailles.”

Stella chuckled. “It is a rather overly complicated schedule. For a dog.”

“I say fuck the list. I kept her ass alive for the requisite 18 years without a list, I can probably handle a dog for a weekend.”

“Tell that to Cat Stevens.”

“Oh yeah. Wherever the fuck he is. Okay, maybe we better stick to the list. Though I would like to point out, Cat was Becca’s dog.”

“Maybe that’s why she made a list this time.”

*****

Ziggy was sound asleep when Hank turned off the lights in the main room. The dog was passed out on his back, in his bed beside the couch, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Hank tiptoed past him into the bedroom and quietly shut the door. Stella was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. He came up behind her and pressed her into the counter with his hips, sneaking his hands up her shirt to massage her breasts.

Stella grunted slightly through her nose and pushed her hips back into Hank’s. She put her hand up to hold her hair back and Hank pulled his hands out from her shirt to do it for her. She leaned over to spit into the sink and he held her hair with one hand and stroked her neck with the other.

“Thank you,” she said.

Hank finger-combed Stella’s hair up into his fist at the top of her head while she wiped her mouth and then he let it go and rubbed her shoulders. She turned around and he held her by the hips.

“Where’s the dog?” she asked.

“Outside smoking a cigarette.”

“Do you think he should go outside once more?”

“He’s dead asleep. He was like…” Hank imitated the dog, rolling his eyes back and sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth.

“You’re the one that was worried about him urinating on the rug.”

Hank pouted his lips and then nodded. “Fine, I’ll take him upstairs. But, you better be naked when I come back, or else I’m sleeping on the couch with the dog.”

“I don’t think that’s the threat you believe it to be.”

Hank narrowed his eyes and pinched Stella’s hip before putting his mouth to her neck and nipping lightly at the back of her jaw. She laughed and pushed at his chest until he let her go. He playfully slapped at her backside on the way out of the bathroom and she swatted his hands away.

The dog was still sleeping when he opened the door, but he whistled softly and Ziggy startled to his feet and then shook himself. “Come on, hairball, we’re going outside.” He snapped his fingers a few times and the dog followed him to the door to the roof.

Ziggy was hesitant on the stairs, taking them slowly and pausing every few steps to get his footing as he hopped up. He ran around the newly landscaped deck, sniffing just about every nook and cranny and lifting his leg on half of them. It had gotten chilly since the sun went down and Hank, in bare feet and a t-shirt, hopped up and down a few times and rubbed his arms as he called the dog back.

Hank was forced to carry the dog down the stairs when he wouldn’t budge from the top. He made a few false starts, but ultimately sat down and wouldn’t move. When he put him down, Ziggy stared up at him and then stayed closed to his legs as he went back to the bedroom.

“You, stay,” Hank said, pointing to the dog bed.

Ziggy sat down next to the bed. Hank closed the door. Stella was sitting up in bed, reading a magazine or journal, which she set down on her lap and took her reading glasses off.

“Did you really think that’s going to work?” she asked.

“He’s fine.”

Before Hank even finished, Ziggy was yelping and scratching at the door. Stella raised her brows and Hank sighed. He opened the door and the dog came flying through, jumped on the bed and leapt onto Stella with his paws on her chest, wagging his tail and kissing her cheek and chin.

“Settle, darling,” Stella said, turning her face away and pushing the dog back. He gave a whining bark as he dropped down.

“Do they make ritalin for dogs?”

“He’s just a baby.”

Hank kicked the dog bed into the bedroom and then pushed it against the wall with his foot. “Go get in your bed,” he said.

Ziggy laid down where he was, next to Stella. He put his head on his paws and lifted his eyes up at Hank.

“Now he’s giving me puppy dog eyes,” Hank said.

“Shockingly, I believe that’s where that term came from.”

“Well, I don’t like it. It’s too effective.”

“Resign yourself to the fact that we have a little guest for the weekend.”

Hank grumbled under his breath as he went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He stripped to his jockey shorts and snapped off the overhead lights on his way back. Ziggy looked up from beside Stella like Hank was the intruder. He even had the audacity to give a little growl when Hank leaned over to give his wife a kiss. Annoyed, Hank flopped onto his back and the dog scooted closer and rested his head on his arm.

“Oh, now you want to be nice,” Hank said, reaching over to scratch the dog on the head. “I’m surprised Becca hasn’t called.”

“What do you mean?”

“To check up on the dog or let us know she made it to the retreat.”

“She’s been texting me all day.”

“What? What did she want?”

“Checking up on the dog.”

“She doesn’t trust us?”

“You didn’t question her motivations five seconds ago when you were surprised she hadn’t called.”

“I like to be fickle to keep you on your toes.”

Ziggy sighed and squirmed until he was on his back, all four paws limp in the air. Stella chuckled and rubbed his chest before she closed her magazine and tossed it onto the nightstand.

“We’re letting this thing stay up here, then?” Hank asked.

“Yes.”

“I think I’m more of a cat person too.”

*****

Hank was surprised that the dog was no trouble during the night. He woke briefly when Stella, always an early riser, got up and said she was going to take Ziggy for his morning walk and when she got back, would be entering in project results into her electronic gradebook for a bit. He grunted in response and mumbled a reminder to leave him some coffee.

When he finally woke fully, left the bedroom far more cautiously than he had the previous morning. Ziggy was nowhere to be found, but as soon as he started puttering in the kitchen, the dog appeared. Hank crouched down and gave him a few scratches.

“What were you up to, hm?” he asked. “Getting into trouble?”

Ziggy followed Hank as he went to the bedroom, most likely interested in the piece of toast in his hand. Hank held the toast between his teeth, wiped his hands on his jeans, and picked up his phone from the nightstand to text Becca.

Morning sweetheart. The furball is good. Not to worry. Haven’t shipped him off to a kennel yet and probably won’t. Have a good time at the retreat.

Hank took a bite of his toast and then tore a piece off and tossed it to the dog. Ziggy caught it mid-air. About thirty seconds later, he heard Stella calling his name and he snapped his fingers at the dog to get him to follow him out of the bedroom.

“What’s up?” Hank asked, and shoved the rest of the toast into his mouth.

“What did you say to Becca?”

“Hm?” he mumbled, mouth full.

“She just texted me and said you’ve implied the dog has been sent to a kennel and wants proof of life.”

“No I didn’t,” he said. “I said I haven’t sent the dog to a kennel so she doesn’t need to worry.”

“Why would you say that to her?”

“So she wouldn’t worry.”

“Well, she’s worried.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“I’ll send her a photo. Ziggy, come here, darling.”

Stella kissed the air a few times, but Ziggy thought trying to be caught was a game. He bounded away from Stella and then stopped and bowed down, his hind end in the air and tail wagging. She patted her knee for him to come, but he just jumped a few feet to the left and went back into the same pose.

“I’ll get him.” Hank started towards the dog and Ziggy barked and then ran to the kitchen. Hank ended up chasing him around the butcher’s block several times before he was able to catch him, but keeping hold of him was difficult. “Stay still, Zig.”

Stella knelt down and quickly opened the camera on her phone.

“What’re you doing?” Hank asked.

“Taking a photo.”

“A selfie?”

“Do you have another suggestion?”

“I don’t know, I don’t do selfies. Unless they’re dick pics.”

“Yes, I am aware, but we won’t be sending your daughter a photo of your penis.”

“Well hurry up, this guy is a bitch to hold onto.”

“Smile, darling.” Both Stella and Hank smiled as she held down the photo button, but Ziggy wriggled and squirmed.

“Anything usable?” Hank asked, setting the dog free.

“A little blurry, but they should suffice.” Stella got up and texted the photos to Becca. “She says thank you, and for you to never fucking text her again.”

“Brat.”

“You started it.”

*****

The day passed. They took the dog to the park. He napped when they got back. Hank worked on his book. Stella worked on a report for her class. In the evening, they lit a fire in the new firepit on the roof and cuddled up on the daybed with the dog between them.

“Should we get a cat?” Hank asked.

“Do you want a cat?” Stella countered.

“Not really.”

“Me neither.”

“It is kind of nice having this little hairball around though. Not that I want him to stay. He’s also annoying as fuck. But, nice to have around. For an hour or two. When he’s asleep.”

“Kind of like you.”

“Hey!”

Stella laughed and Hank pushed her down onto the bed, rising to his knees to lean over and nuzzle her neck. It was a ticklish spot for her, especially when caressed lightly, and it made her laugh harder. Ziggy barked from where he was wedged beside Stella and under Hank. He wiggled out from under them and then jumped on Hank’s back with his front paws, barking and growling.

“Relax, man,” Hank said, rolling to one hip off of Stella.

“He’s being a good protector,” Stella said, laughing when Ziggy nipped at the blanket over their legs and tried to pull it away.

“He’s being a cockblocker.” Hank wrestled the blanket back from the dog and then grabbed him under the chin, giving him a few firm scratches. “You know what, Zig? You be a cockblocker. You be the best cockblocker you can be, at Becca’s place. Cockblock the shit out of Becca, okay?”

Ziggy barked and wagged his tail.

“Good boy,” Hank said. “Good little cockblocker.”

“Don’t say that to him,” Stella said.

“Why not?”

“One day you will need to face the fact that your daughter is a grown woman who deserves a healthy sex life.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to throw up.” Hank groaned and flopped down onto the bed with his arm over his eyes. “Consider me officially cockblocked.”

Stella moved up onto her hip this time and put her arm over Hank’s chest. She kissed his chin and then pulled his bottom lip between her teeth. He grabbed her around the waist and grunted softly into her mouth. Ziggy trampled the both of them and stuck his cold nose into Hank’s cheek.

“Gah!” Hank groaned.

The licked furiously at the both of them and Stella released Hank’s lip with a laugh and a scrunched face. She buried her head down into Hank’s neck while curling into his side and Ziggy tried to wedge his snout down to keep licking her face.

“We are officially never, ever, ever, ever getting a dog,” Hank said.

“No argument from me,” Stella answered, sliding away from the dog and Hank and stepping off the bed. “Meet me downstairs and I guarantee you won’t be cockblocked.”

“Oh?”

“Naked shower party for two in ten minutes.”

“The naked is redundant!” he called after her as she walked away. He waited until she had started down the stairs to take Ziggy’s face in his hands. “Listen. This is a cockblock free zone, you got that? Keep it up and you just may end up like Cat Stevens. We good?”

Ziggy gave a short, gruff bark and then lifted his paw. Hank nodded and they shook on it. He got up and let Ziggy explore the roof for a few minutes while he folded the blanket up and put out the fire. Not for long though. He had a naked party to get to and he didn’t want to be late.

The End

#i wrote this #hanella #humor #DOGS #hank moody #stella gibson

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just-a-poor-boy-queen · 3 years ago

Note

Warning for NSFW and dirty talk.

Part 35 of Jimercury Kid series

Despite being fifty-one years of age, Freddie still had a sex drive that a teenager would be proud of.

Which made it all the more frustrating when he came home from the studio after a long, tiring session and wanted nothing more than to be taken to bed and suitably ravished by his husband so he could forget all his worries and grievances for a few uninterrupted hours.

But with children came responsibilities. Usually by the time Freddie arrived home, Jim had already picked Khaleel up from school, helped him with his homework, played with him and prepared his dinner, on top of working in the garden all day. Naturally, the Irishman would be exhausted, and sex was the last thing on his mind.

Freddie tried to be understanding about the situation. Jim was a hard worker and dedicated hours of his time to both the garden and their son, so the singer felt he didn’t have any right to begrudge him for being less than enthusiastic about intimacy. But his own biology betrayed him; that constant primal need to fuck and be fucked was achingly present, tormenting him day and night.

In his younger, more reckless years, he would have simply sought out a temporary bedmate to alleviate this problem. But those days were long over; he loved Jim and was fully committed to him. Which was why he was now sitting alone in the master bedroom, staring down at the bottle of lube in his hand and wondering how much time he had before Jim returned from the school run.

He couldn’t pinpoint when exactly he had decided to take this idea forward, but he knew it had something to do with the giant bulge straining against his zipper, begging to be let out. It had been two weeks since he and Jim had slept together, and lately Freddie had resorted to taking matters into his own hands (quite literally.) Living with a seven-year-old made it difficult to get any alone time, so he took this opportunity by the horns and pushed his sweats down to his knees, pulling out his half-hard cock and squirting a generous amount of lube into his palm.

He leaned back against the headboard as he gently began to massage his throbbing member, unable to think of anything other than his husband and all the things he wanted Jim to do to him. He thought of Jim pinning him to the mattress, trailing kisses along his neck, gently suckling at his throat as he thrust in and out of Freddie like a hungry animal. He thought of Jim beneath him, nails scraping against the skin of his back, breathing hot air into his ear as Freddie took control for the night. Watching Jim’s face flush and his pupils dilate while Freddie bounced on his dick, riding himself into oblivion.

As the early waves of pleasure washed over him, Freddie reached up and gently pinched a nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb. He tried to imagine Jim behind him, one hand up his shirt while the other tended to his leaking cock, whispering the filthiest words into his ear until the Persian was a sobbing, squirming mess.

‘Jim…’ he couldn’t help but whisper desperately under his breath. ‘Jim, Jim.’

As good as it felt, it wasn’t the same. No matter how hard he thought about his husband, how well he pictured him in his mind, it wasn’t the same as Jim physically being there. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself over the edge; every time he felt close to release, his brain held him back.

After a while, his arm began to ache and he sighed in frustration, realising this was a futile effort. He opened his eyes, only to be greeted by a figure standing in the doorway and he yelled in surprise.

‘Jim!’ He spluttered, grabbing a pillow to cover his nether regions, ‘haven’t you heard of knocking?’

‘And interrupt this show?’ Jim grinned. ‘No chance.’

Freddie felt his cheeks singe. ‘How long have you been standing there?’

‘Only about five minutes.’ Jim stepped into the room, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. ‘Khaleel’s started on his homework in the kitchen and you’re far better at maths than I am, so I came up to find you. But clearly you’re preoccupied with other things.’

‘You ass.’ Freddie grumbled, trying to play off his embarrassment. His cock was still painfully swollen, pressing up against the pillow in a desperate search for friction.

The smirk on Jim’s face didn’t falter. ‘So, you think of me when you’re jerking yourself off?’

Freddie looked appalled. ‘Of course I do! Who else would I be thinking of?’

‘I don’t know. Burt Reynolds?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Freddie crossed his arms defiantly, but quickly dropped them back to his sides when Jim cocked an eyebrow. ‘Okay, maybe a few times. But mostly I think of you. You’re my husband, for God’s sake.’

Jim’s eyes glittered with unusual mischief; he rose from the bed and walked over to Freddie’s side, taking hold of the pillow, and moving it away from the Persian’s crotch. ‘Shift over.’

Freddie frowned, confused, but moved over without complaint, allowing Jim to sit down next to him and lean back against the headboard. The Irishman spread his legs and patted the space between them; it didn’t take Freddie long to realise what he was asking.

‘Darling, Kenny might call for us.’ He said uncertainly, even as he lowered himself between Jim’s legs, allowing his husband to tug his jeans down further to his ankles.

‘Phoebe is there if he needs any help.’ Jim murmured in his ear, taking up the lube that Freddie had abandoned and squirting a large helping into his hand. ‘Don’t worry, this won’t take long.’

Freddie still wasn’t sure, but as soon as he felt Jim’s firm grip on his cock, all he could do was hum softly and let his head fall back against the Irishman’s shoulder, closing his eyes as those familiar pangs of pleasure returned.

‘What were you picturing in that pretty little head of yours?’ Jim began pressing soft, warm kisses against the crook of Freddie’s neck, revelling in how the singer moaned and bucked in response. ‘Were you thinking of me fucking you? Ploughing into you nice and deep?’

‘Mmm…’ Freddie bit down on his bottom lip desperately, resisting the urge to scream. He thrust harder into Jim’s fist, cheeks pink from the effort.

‘You love it when I fuck you, don’t you?’ Jim nibbled Freddie’s earlobe, smiling as the Persian shivered and whined in response. ‘You love lying there on your hands and knees, arse in the air, your little hole desperate to be filled with my cock.’

‘Jim.’ Freddie practically sobbed, so close that his whole body was trembling. He wasn’t sure how Jim always managed to make him come undone so easily, but he fucking loved it.

‘Do you remember Live Aid, Freddie?’ Jim carried on, undeterred, his voice a mere whisper. ‘Remember me standing backstage while you strutted about onstage, showing off that gorgeous body of yours? Do you have any idea what I wanted to do to you in that moment?’

Freddie was beyond words. He just shook his head, desperate for Jim to keep talking.

‘If I had my way, I would have marched you off that stage, taken you to the dressing room and fucked you so hard you couldn’t remember your own name. The rest of the band would have been on the other side of the door, wondering what was going on, but they’d just have to wait because I’d be too busy filling your greedy hole. You’d be moaning so loudly, everyone in that stadium would know that the great Freddie Mercury was being fucked and he loved it-’

With a strangled cry, Freddie came into Jim’s hand, the tears in his eyes spilling down his cheeks as he was overwhelmed by his orgasm. He collapsed against his husband, gasping for air as Jim gently cradled his jaw and tilted his head back for a sweet kiss.

‘God, I’ve missed you.’ Freddie panted against the Irishman’s lips.

‘I’ve missed you too.’ Jim kissed him again. ‘So fucking much.’

OMG SO FUCKING HOT🥵

I absolutely loved this, my god. It's such a wonderful use of the prompt. I mean, their sex life must be pretty... dry, even with a seven year old lol who could barge in at any time in their bedroom (or other places, you know, if they get a little adventurous😏). So I really don't blame Freddie for getting some solo action. But lmao, ofc he can't get off without his husband.

And damn, Jim! The dirty talk was... oof. I mean... wow. Oof. Yeah, wow.

Also lmao, Freddie admitting to thinking of Burt Reynolds made me cackle hahahaha. But of course, he thinks of Mr. Reynolds only a few times. His own 'Burt Baby' (that's apparently an actual nickname that Freddie had for Jim), his husband, is enough to fuel his fantasies😌

I love this so much, darling. So fucking hot!

(More drabbles by writer anon)

(All the parts of this series can also be found under the tag #freddie and jim and their baby on this blog)

#ask response #jim hutton #freddie mercury #anon writing #freddie and jim and their baby

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lustbile-archive · 4 years ago

Text

[11:42PM]

smut

“Johnny…”

“Johnny.”

“John,” the third time his name rang out like a plea from where you had draped yourself across his bed like a worn throw blanket, a hum of acknowledgement finally rumbled through his chest. His mind too occupied by the task of untangling the necklaces that braided themselves together in their time spent in his gym bag.

“I’m not being dramatic,” you glare at the ceiling as you speak, your huffing tone doing nothing to make your claim convincing, “but I think I am going to die.”

Johnny’s back straightens at your words, his head jerking back and his hands tightening around the thin metal chains, “Baby c’mon,” he turns to grin at your pliant form, “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

You wear an unattractive sneer when you turn your head to meet his eyes “says you, you demon.”

Couples exercising sounded like a genius idea at first. The idea of getting sweaty and letting off steam with your sweet, loving boyfriend sounded perfect when you wrapped yourself with the article from the cosmo magazine your best friend slipped into your bag the last time you were with her. Especially considering that working out had become something that Johnny had found himself genuinely passionate about, with not only the getting in shape aspects, but the technicalities and skill behind it. You were more than thrilled by the idea of bonding with him over something he clearly cared about, but you may have underestimated just how invested he would become with the thought.

He made it clear very quickly that he wanted to push you. With an empty promise of ‘one more squat’ and encouragements like ‘now come one I know you’re stronger than that,’ and the addition of the ridiculously cute face he would pull when you finished a workout, there wasn’t much you could do but let him test your limits. And as fun as it had been in the moment, it became exceedingly less fun when you got home and began to feel the aching muscles of your ass and thighs.

“Listen man it’s bad,” your head falling back into the mattress as you continue your complaining, “and I love you so much. I want nothing more than for you to be happy. So, when I die, move on and find someone new, but for the love of god do not watch my favorite movie with them. That would honestly hurt my feelings and I would have no other choice than to come back and haunt both of you.”

His warm laugh filled the small room as he drops the still tangled chains before he slowly walked to stand at the foot of the bed, “do you still have feelings when you die?”

You’re momentarily distracted from your pain at the small streak of confusion running through your brain, before your eyes fall back onto the boy with a teasing glare, “you better hope so, because how else would you entertain yourself if you can’t hurt my little baby feelings.”

“Oh no!” his voice pitches as he speaks, the teasing tone matching the goofy way his mouth falls open, “I didn’t mean to hurt your little baby feelings. Let me make it up to you my little baby.”

He grins down at you and gently grabs at your thighs making you whine, “Hm yeah? How are you going to make it up to me Suh?” You slightly jump in shock when his fingers wrap around the back of your knees, before pulling you until your legs are hanging off the edge of the bed, the back of your thighs being knocked farther apart by his hips.

“You’re very smart baby,” his eyebrows dart towards his hairline a few times as he moves his fingers to tickle at your skin, “I think you can guess what I can do to make you feel better.”

“Johnny, I don’t know man,” you tilt your head back to avoid his childishly suggestive gaze, only momentarily getting lost in the way your neck feels as it stretches, “you’re going to want to fold me in half like always, and I don’t know if my ass or thighs can handle that right now.”

“I do like to fold you in half,” he quietly mutters to himself with a weirdly sounding nostalgic, before he gently shakes his head and begins thumbing at the waistband of your leggings, “and I’d love to just ruin you like always, but I promise I’ll be real gentle. Make you feel so much better.”

You can’t help the halfhearted that leaves you when his rough fingers dip under the elastic, “but I’m all gross and sweaty.”

“Gross and sweaty is my favorite version of you.”

“Yuck!” you yelp and kick your legs out, which he simply ignores. His mind focused on the gentle rise of your hips, helping him to tug the fabric off your legs.

He drops the pants next to his feet on the floor, his eyes darting between your face and squirming hips as he grabs your ankle to rest on his shoulder, “hey, I’m allowed to be gross. I’m in love with you,” his muffles his words by pressing his warm open mouth against the rounded bone.

“Oof ouch,” your fist grasps at the dampened shirt that clings to your skin, “Don’t be sweet to me. You get whatever you want when you’re sweet to me.”

His mouth drags against the skin of your calf as he slowly leans forward, a grin somehow still evident on his face. His tongue flicks out to dip into the bend of your knee. The feeling of the wet muscle and the scraping of his teeth makes your thigh jump and flex.

“Baby,” his words vibrating against your skin, making you sigh, “no matter what I say, you’re always sweeter,” his eyes shamelessly fall to the space between your thighs, his tongue peeking out again to lick at his lips.

“God,” you fall back in exhaustion when he speaks, “you can really make me go from loving to hating you in just a split second huh?”

“Say whatever you want sweetheart,” you can’t help but jump when his fingers softly press into the thin fabric that still blocks his view, a devious smile taking up space on his face, “you always love me again once you’ve come and I always love the way you taste.”

He drops to his knees ungracefully as he speaks, the sound of his knees hitting the floor ringing out painfully throughout the room, but the way he smiles with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth shows no evidence of him feeling any pain. He grabs at your other leg, pulling it up to join the one hanging off his wide shoulders, his calloused fingers making quick work of kneading at the aching muscles.

A deep sigh falls from you as your head falls back, and your hands reach up to lay above your head stretching your shoulders and back. An enamored laugh moving your legs when it makes his shoulders shake, Johnny enjoying the dramatics more than he would ever admit as he presses his forehead against your stomach and shakes his head.

“My beautiful baby,” his warm breath hits your skin as he slowly pressed your legs closer to your chest to pull at the sore muscles, “you act the way you do and wonder why I say the things I do.”

“I’m just stretching,” you lean up as much as you're able, to try to glare at the top of his head from where he had begun pressing his mouth around the band of your underwear.

He mumbles a quiet ‘I know’ before sitting back, still pressing your legs down towards your chest, a small smile pulling at his lips. He lets out a sigh of his own as he dreamily stares at the space between your legs, falling into a lull of thought. Keeping the quiet tone, he offers a small ‘yeah’ before he digs the flat of his thumb into the spot of your underwear that had begun to dampen. The pressure and the way he starts to rub rough circles into you makes you jump and let out a whimper of surprise.

“You’re always so good for me aren’t you baby?” he hums to himself, “Let me work you to hell and back. Wear you out, but you still let me play with you like my own little doll hm?”

You start to pant lightly at his words, your breathlessness only picking up when he moves to pull the thin fabric of your underwear off to join the leggings crumpled on the floor. His hands return to your skin as they slip under your hips, lifting you slightly off the bed and rocking you side to side. He looks almost hypnotized as he stares at your exposed skin, his mind so dazed by how much you had become aroused by only his hands on your skin, he almost doesn’t hear the way you whine his name.

“What do you want me to do baby?” he smiles up at you, and the way he gently nuzzles his face into the flesh of your thigh makes your chest tighten with adoration.

You pout down at the charming boy tucked between your thighs and run your fingers through his hair to gently tug him closer to where you desperately needed him, “you said you’d make me feel better.”

He hums and mirrors your pout before grabbing your hand and placing a wet kiss onto your palm making you quietly laugh, “you’re right baby, I’m sorry for making you wait.”

He laces his fingers tightly with your and places your joined hands to press into your stomach as he leans down to start pressing open mouthed kisses to your skin. Every time his lips brush against your clit, it makes your hips start to stir and your breathing become labored. He presses his body closer to the end of the bed and squeezes at your hand before he finally drags his tongue against your sensitive skin. Your chest slowly raises towards the ceiling as you back arches away from the mattress, your mind melting and becoming delirious when he starts lapping at your clit.

Your voice sounds unrecognizable to your own ears when it comes out rough and scratched as you swear. Your thighs reflexively squeeze around his head and you gently clench, making him place his whole mouth against you and hums. The vibrations roll up into your chest and throughout every nerve.

You let out a surprised yelp when he pulls the bud in between his lips to harshly suck on and runs the hand that wasn’t trapped in your grip up your legs to squeeze at the taut muscle of your calf. After kneading the skin between his long fingers, he runs his hand flat down your thigh to join his relentless mouth.

He pulls away to watch at his middle and ring fingers slowly sink into you, a groan filling the quiet room at the way your body eagerly sucks him in, “always so fucking good for me aren’t you?” he whispers as if he’s afraid to break the atmosphere by being too loud. After enjoying the view, he is quick to latch back onto your sensitive skin and roll his warm tongue against you.

Your whines grow louder and pitch higher as his fingers rock into you, pressing against every nerve as his mouth works the familiar way that he knows makes you lose your mind. His shoulders knock against you as he shuffles and moves to get a better angle to press deeply inside you, his fingers nudging against the spot he was hell bent on hitting and making your mouth drop open and your eyes tightly shut.

His mouth is relentless as he harshly sucks and hums into you, the fingers wrapped around your hand loosening enough to scratch at and tickle the skin below your navel. His fingers curling up and digging into the spot he had become obsessed with as your hips buck up into him.

“Fuck Johnny please,” you plead into the air as your fingers dig into his scalp, your shoulders lifting of the bed as the promise of an orgasm bites and pulls at your skin makes you curl into yourself. Your toes begin to curl, and your heels dig into the flexed muscles of his back as he puts his remaining energy into getting you to come. Finally, you begin to shake and pant quickly as your orgasm crawls up your spine and across your skin. You hum and whine as his mouth works you through the overwhelming feeling and his fingers slow down and pull out.

“Hm Johnny,” you gently tug at his hair to pull him away, but he shows no sign of moving away from you making you whine. Your hand falls to lay flat against his forehead as you weakly push at him. His mouth remains latched onto you as he shakes his head before he lets go of your hand and roughly grips your hips. He presses you tightly against his mouth, the flat of his tongue sliding side to side against your overstimulated skin as he moves to sit back on his ankles. The tight grip he held on you pulls you with him, leaving only your shoulders to press into the mattress as your lower body is lifted into the air. Your fingers grab back onto his hair as you feel him smile into you, and a desperate whine falls from your lips when your eyes meet, and he winks.

The pleads start again, slightly louder than before and your eyes roll back as a second orgasm is quick to approach from the lack of a break from stimulation. Your whole body feels like it is being set on fire as a second high approaches almost too quickly making the pain of overstimulation bite at you and blend with the pleasure, he gives you so eagerly. His lips wrap around your clit one last time as he licks and pulls at the delicate skin and digs his blunt nails into your skin.

The delirious words are no form of coherent as you come, your body rocking against the sheets that have become tangled. Your shirt feels constricting as it tugs up your torso and tickles at your hyper-sensitive skin and your shoulders pulling up towards your ears. Johnny lets out quiet grunts into you as he gently licks at you as you come apart in his hands. Your ringing ears drowning out your own quiet pleas for relief from the blinding pleasure and pain.

Finally, Johnny moves his mouth away from you to run his warm tongue against the damp skin of your inner thigh as you try to bring your rapid breathing back to normal, the proud grin on his face poorly repressed.

“You did so good,” he sweetly praises as his hands travel to squeeze at the skin below your ribs. He gently knocks your legs off his shoulders as he picks you up. He clumsily sits back onto the floor as he pulls you into him to straddle his lap, his hand reaching to knead at the tense muscles at the back of neck as he pulls you to tuck your face into his neck, “always so good for me my pretty baby.”

“Jesus,” he rocks you gently back and forth as your breathing returns to normal, and you're quick to wrap yourself tightly around him, “I’m going to be more sore than I was going to be in the first place.”

He laughs against your skin as he presses his lips tightly against your temple, his hands roaming and squeezing at your still buzzing skin, “you’ll be fine,” he gently falls back to lay flat on the floor, doing nothing to hide his content with how the weight of your body presses into him, “I’ll take care of you. Always.”

#nct #nct smut #johnny #johnny smut #nct 127 #nct timestamps #nct drabbles #nct imagines #johnny timestamps #johnny drabbles #johnny imagines #nct johnny #nct fanfic

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phr0gie · 4 years ago

Text

𝓕𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓢𝓮𝓲𝓳𝓸𝓱

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 1: 𝓡𝓮𝓭 𝓖𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓪𝓼

“you’re my number one, you’re the one i want. and i’ve turned down every hand that has beckoned me to come.” - geyser, mitski

✯ synopsis: red gardenias are the symbol of secret love. y/n has been a cook for prince tooru and the rest of the oikawa family for their entire life. despite residing in the same castle, the two had never met. they lived in different worlds, so close yet so far apart. however, these worlds collide one night when prince tooru sneaks down to the kitchen for a midnight snack.

✯ note: this is it guys!! my first real post on this account!! i’m still exploring with my overall writing style and structure so please bear with me on that. remember, constructive criticism is welcome as long as you’re respectful about it! thank you so much to everyone who’s been patient in waiting for this series to come out, and h u g e thank you to my beta reader @ramunesuna !!! :)

✯ pairing: prince! oikawa x cook! reader

✯ tw: slight classism, minor character death mention, strong language, unresolved angst but in a romantic way you know, angsty prince oikawa hehe, kuroo makes a brief appearance lmao

✯ wc: 9k (oof)

✯ series masterlist | main masterlist

Ever since Y/n L/n was a young child, they had always been taught one extremely important lesson. There were two worlds; one full of luxury and opportunity, and another full of hardwork and perseverance. Y/n just so happened to be born into the latter, a servant of the royal Oikawa family. Their father, the head chef of the castle, had drilled this narrative into their head. “You must remember”, he would say. “In this life, to survive in our world we must work to appease those above us. It is our safest option. Their world is too far away from ours, they will forget we’re here. It is up to us to remind them.” And at that moment, Y/n believed this was true. Above them, they heard loud laughter and music from what had to be the royal family’s fifth ball this month. And, with their fingers growing wrinkly in the sink from scrubbing dishes, Y/n truly did feel as though they were in two different worlds. So close yet so far, only a story away.

A swarm of servants flooding into the kitchen had shaken them from their thoughts. Smells of wine and cake along with the sounds of sighs of relief and complaints of aching bones had immediately filled Y/n’s senses. Frantically their eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar figure amongst the crowd. Finally, they saw their target, an older man dressed in a white coat with a long white hat. They locked eyes and the old man relaxed immediately. He smiled warmly at them and they returned it almost instantly.

“Ah, Y/n”, he said affectionately as he approached the young cook.

“You look exhausted, Father”, Y/n chuckled. “Are the guests especially rowdy this evening?”

Their father shook his head and let out a tired laugh.

“That’s one way to put it, it’s truly remarkable how rambunctious some individuals get after a few sips of wine. Especially His Majesty”, he remarked. “After his second goblet I was afraid he was about to offer me a new position in the main house!”

Y/n let out a loud laugh at this. The King was known to be generous with his power, however, once it was clear that he was having fun he became a bit too generous with it. After a few more chuckles Y/n let out a sigh.

“I wish I could have been there to see it”, they muttered.

Their father let out his own sigh. “I know you do”, he said carefully, “but, I do not want to expose you to the stresses of working closely with the royal family too early. That simply would not be fair to you.”

Y/n rolled their eyes, but still nodded in understanding. While they knew how cruel some noblemen could be to the lower-class, they still found it irritating that this would keep them from progressing with their duties; especially considering Y/n was to take their fathers place as head chef one day.

“Besides” he added, “your time will come soon enough. After all, I am old and withered; I will not be around forever.”

Y/n gasped at this. “Father!”, they yelled, hitting him lightly on the arm. “Do not say such things!”

He merely chuckled at their reaction and pointed to a grand wooden clock that stood in the corner of the kitchen.

“The clock strikes midnight” he yawned, “and we must be up early to prepare breakfast for His Royal Highness. Off to bed!”

He then clapped, as if to emphasize his point, and walked toward the servants quarters. Y/n simply let out a light chuckle and followed him, trying to busy their mind with tomorrow’s meal preparations instead of thinking about the separate reality above them.

On the other side of the castle, the Oikawa family ball had been coming to a close. His majesty’s coronation was but only two months away and, by tradition of the Oikawa family, a ball was to take place once every week before the occasion. Various Royalty and Noblemen had traveled far and wide for this night, decorated in the finest of silks and clothes, just to step into the family’s golden ballroom and catch a glimpse of the King's son, Prince Tooru Oikawa. You see, his majesty had created quite a name for himself. Throughout the land, he was known for his strategic mind and charming personality. He could dazzle any room he walked into and handle political matters with elegance and ease. This reputation caused his people to put him on a pedestal, genuinely believing that he would be the greatest ruler the kingdom had ever seen; leading them to create a nickname for the heir, “The Great King Tooru”. Yes, everyone was quite ecstatic for the heir to finally claim the throne, well that is, everyone but Prince Tooru. While he was an excellent strategist and an amazing speaker, there was something about the Prince that his subjects did not know. Prince Tooru had never had any experience outside of the palace walls. He had little to no idea how his people lived, what their biggest struggles were, what they thought could be improved upon within the kingdom. Hell, he had never even met his own staff! While charming and clever, his highness was nothing short of a perfectionist. He was dangerously ambitious and constantly craved improvement. So, whilst at his celebrations, he would present his confident, collected, charming self to the public, however, once the palace doors shut Tooru’s anxieties and worries would run rampant.

As the last of the guests exited the golden ballroom, Tooru’s honey smile melted into a bitter frown and his eyes were fixed on the door. His coronation was a double edged-sword hanging above his throne and he was Damocles awaiting his demise. The King noticed this and swiftly approached his son, patting a few times on the back.

“Well,” He started, a soft, cheery tone in his voice. “It seems as though the guests had a magnificent time.”

The Prince’s gaze stayed stuck to the door. “I want to stay the night in the village.” Tooru stated quietly, as if he were afraid the guests would still be able to hear.

The King let out a long sigh and wandered away from his son a bit. “Tooru, we have discussed this matter before-”

“How am I supposed to properly rule a kingdom I know nothing about?” He interrupted, finally turning his burning gaze towards his father.

“It is unfair not only to me, but to our people. They are expecting a ‘Great King’, but you are preventing me from becoming that for them!”

The King simply put his head in his hands, clearly not wanting to discuss this any further.

“Tooru, you simply do not understand.”

“What?!” Tooru challenged. “What do I not understand?”

“Enough!” The King shouted, rage and frustration clear in his tone. “You know exactly why you are not to leave the palace. It is not safe for you out there! I made that mistake once with your mother and I will not make it with you.”

The King’s voice rang throughout the grand, golden walls of the main hall and the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Tooru was taken aback by his father’s statement. When The Prince was very young his mother, the Queen, had been killed whilst she was on a stroll at the marketplace one day. Back then, it was normal for the royal family to visit their kingdom. However, it was apparent that the King, as well-liked as he was, still had some enemies. Apparently they had decided to express their distaste for him by murdering the one he loved most. The incident was sudden and unexpected, because of this the King was hit extremely hard by the loss. That day he swore that the royal family was forbidden from exiting the castle. The rule was only lifted when The King himself absolutely had to leave.

“Father,” He started, his tone calmer than before. “I understand your hesitation, but that was a long time ago-”

“I said ‘enough’, Tooru. There is no hesitation, my decision is final.” The King then made his way up the castle’s grand staircase and towards his room, not wishing to continue the conversation any further.

Prince Tooru stood in silence as he watched his father retreat.

“Shit.” He menatlly cursed.

Prince Tooru turned around and threw his fist against the palace door in anger. All his frustration seemed to bubble to the surface as he glared at the carved oak. Cursing once again he closed his eyes and rested his head against the door.

“I must meet my people’s expectations of me, but how?”

All of the sudden, a loud grumble ripped Tooru from his thoughts. He opened his eyes and placed his hands on his stomach. Tooru began to recall the fact that he had not eaten much at the celebration, what with all the mingling he had to do there was just no time. Normally, the prince would have just gone to his room and rang for a meal like he always had. However, this time Tooru decided against it. Maybe it was the angst he was feeling ordering him to act out, or maybe it was the fact that he had reached his limit with social interaction and did not want to have to deal with possibly having to be speaking with someone. Whatever the reason, Tooru felt compelled to venture to the kitchen on his own tonight. So, pushing his frustrations to the back of his mind, Tooru made his way to the main kitchen, blissfully unaware of the young cook still awake in their chambers.

Y/n could not sleep. They tossed, they turned, they even took a walk around the servants hall! Yet nothing seemed to aid them. They came to the conclusion that their mind would simply not leave them to rest. Sitting up on their bed, Y/n looked out the small window across the room. Over the course of a few hours, Y/n’s thoughts had still not left the idea of the world above them and its inhabitants. Being eighteen-years-old, they were the youngest of all of the chefs and servants; meaning that they were the only one who had never been around the rest of the castle.

“Oh no Y/n, you mustn’t!”, they would exclaim. “It would not be fair to subject you to such stress, you must wait until you are able to overtake your father!”

Y/n rolled her eyes thinking about this. They tried to understand where the people around them were coming from, they really did. However, the idea of being stuck in the kitchen was incredibly frustrating to them.

“What a load of horseshit”, they thought. “How am I supposed to be an adequate cook if I do not even know who I am serving!”

A loud CLANG suddenly ripped Y/n from their thoughts. Alarmed they jumped and looked around their room. Quickly Y/n bolted from their bed and made their way towards the door. Slowly they peeked out into the servants hall. It was still as can be, no doors open and there was no sign of anyone else being awake. Suddenly a loud BANG followed by a male voice cursing “shit!” came from the kitchen.

“A thief!” Y/n concluded.

They looked around for someone to emerge from their chambers to stop the intruder, but, unfortunately, it seemed that everyone was still fast asleep. Y/n had a decision to make; either go back to bed and risk the kitchen getting ransacked, or go stop the intruder and risk getting hurt. Sucking in a breath, Y/n carefully, as to not alert anyone of her presence, tiptoed out into the hallway and shut the door behind them. They grabbed a lit candlestick mounted on the wall and took one last look around. Quickly, yet quietly, they made their way from the servent’s quarters to the main kitchen’s entrance. Once they arrived, Y/n put their ear against the kitchen’s giant wooden door and listened for their target. Meanwhile, on the other side, Prince Tooru was searching the kitchen cabinets for a fresh loaf of bread he knew the head chef had just made that morning. However, being that it was so late, his majesty could hardly see a thing. Still he blindly searched, hoping to find the soft, sweet substance. His haste led to him bumping into a brass plate wrack, knocking over a row of porcelain plates. Y/n’s eyes widened at the sound of this and decided that now was the time to make their move. Quickly they flung open the large kitchen door.

“Stop, thief!”, they yelled, charging into the room.

However, what they saw was not at all what they were expecting. There, in all his glory, was a tall, young man hunched over the porcelain plates, attempting to clean up his mess. He wore an elegant silk tunic with matching white pants and a turquoise vest with elegant gold stitching swirled across the front. However, Y/n could care less about the man's attire. For they could not tear their eyes away from the crown atop his head. Golden with topaz and turquoise gems, the kingdom’s signature color and stones. The Prince felt a bit uneasy under the young servant's gaze however, he tried his best not to show it. Instead, he flashed them his signature, charming smile.

“I am awfully sorry”, Tooru started, calmly and elegantly moving away from the broken plates. “It was not my intention to make such a mess, or to frighten you so. I was simply searching for a loaf of that delicious bread that was served this morning.”

His words broke Y/n from their trance, as they finally realized exactly who they were speaking to.

“Your Majesty!”, they exclaimed, knees quickly bending, hitting the floor to bow in reverence before him with their candle still in hand.

It was a bit awkward, but what were they supposed to do? They had never been in the presence of royalty before! Tooru looked at the servant incredulously and suppressed a chuckle.

“Your Majesty?” he questioned, amusement dancing in his tone as he approached them. “I am afraid you have mistaken me with my father, my name is Prince Tooru.”

Y/n’s eyes widened and they gasped. “Of course” they thought bitterly, “Your first meeting with the man you’ll be working for and you soil it.”

The young cook hung their head low, embarrassed and ashamed of their mistake but also afraid. Y/n had heard stories about servants who were killed for addressing their hosts incorrectly. What was he going to do to them?

“Your Highness,” they started, their voice shaking slightly. “I give you my sincerest apologies. I assure this mistake will not be repeated.”

This time, the Prince could not control his amusement. A sea of genuine laughter came tumbling from his mouth and Y/n could not help but be entranced by it. His laugh was smooth and warm, just like the cups of rich hot chocolate the kitchen had prepared many times for the winter season. Snapping out of their thoughts, Y/n looked up at the laughing heir, confused.

“Are you not angered?” they quietly asked.

When the Prince kept laughing, the cook started to get frustrated. They were already embarrassed and now he was making it worse!

“Are you mocking me?” they challenged, albeit against their better judgement.

Tooru simply shook his head and wiped a stray tear from his eye.

“No no,” he started, letting out another low chuckle. “My apologies, It was not my intention to poke fun at you like this.” he assured. “I suppose I still have to get accustomed to being spoken to in such a formal way.”

This confused Y/n. He was the Prince? Did not everyone speak to him this way? Noticing the young cooks' confusion, Tooru smiled and offered them a hand.

“Here.”

Hesitantly, Y/n accepted his offer and allowed themselves to be pulled up by the Prince’s strength, blushing a bit despite themselves at the feeling of his hand in theirs. After helping the young servant off the ground, Tooru turned back to the broken china and began to kneel down to pick up the pieces.

“Oh!” Y/n exclaimed, quickly falling next to him, “Your Highness please, allow me!”

The Prince chuckled again and shook his head. “No no,” he said, lightly pushing the servant away from the mess. “It is my mess, allow me to take care of it. Besides, it would be incredibly unfortunate if you were to get hurt due to my foolishness.”

The young cook stubbornly stayed in place. This was their job after all, if they were incapable of completing one simple task then what use did they have?

“Well,” they replied quietly, a hint of annoyance in their tone. “At least allow me to assist you.”

Not giving him a chance to answer, they quickly knelt across from Prince Tooru, sat their large candle next to them, and began to pick up the glass shards. Tooru exhaled and shook his head at this yet he did not stop them, assuming they already had their mind made up. Together, the Prince and the cook picked up the porcelain pieces in silence with a strange tension hanging in the air that neither of them could quite place. After a few moments, when the glass pieces were almost all cleaned, Tooru picked up a particularly rigid piece of glass and pricked his finger.

“Shit” he cursed quietly, but not quietly enough to go unnoticed by the servant sitting across from him.

Y/n merely scoffed and shook their head. “And you were worried about me injuring myself” they teased.

The Prince was about to retort, but the crimson liquid seeping from his index finger caught him off guard. Glancing at his wound, the cook set down their glass pieces and began to stand up.

“Wait here”, they instructed before quickly grabbing their candle and disappearing from the kitchen.

Tooru complied and stayed sat in the dark on the wooden floor, cradling his wound and occasionally blowing on it to relieve some of the sting. After about two minutes, the large oak door opened and Y/n popped their head in to make sure the Prince was still there. Upon seeing him, they quickly made their way over and sat down next to him. Tooru noticed a thick white roll of cloth in one hand and a bottle of alcohol in the other.

“Let me see”, Y/n whispered. Their tone was softer than before, more careful and concerned.

He complied almost immediately, placing his palm to the ceiling so his cut would be on display. The young cook took his hand gently and inspected his wound closely. Meanwhile, Tooru gazed at Y/n and began to study them. This was his first time seeing them so close and the sight made his heart skip a beat. Their (e/c) eyes shined brighter than any gemstone in the candle light, their (s/c) complexion seemed to rival any deity’s, and the feeling of their hand, gently holding his, was softer than any silk that would ever touch his body. Prince Tooru Oikawa had charmed and dazzled dozens of fair maidens and bachelors across the kingdom, however, none of them had ever left them quite as enchanted as the cook sitting right across from him did.

“Fortunately,” Y/n started, breaking the Prince from his trance. “Your wound is not deep and there do not appear to be any shards stuck in the cut.”

The young servant briefly let go of him and Tooru found himself missing their touch. Y/n took the bottle of alcohol and poured some onto a piece of the white cloth, making sure they did not spill a drop onto the floor. Then, carefully, they took the Prince’s index finger and hovered the towel above the cut.

“This may burn a bit” they softly warned, waiting for Tooru to acknowledge their words.

Once he nodded in understanding, the cook gently brought the soaked cloth down onto the Prince’s wound. Tooru grunted at the stinging feeling and Y/n looked up at him sympathetically.

“My apologies, Your Highness” they whispered, stroking his arm softly as an attempt to calm him. “It will be over soon.”

Tooru blushed at the gesture and looked away, trying to regain his composure. After a beat of silence, the young servant lifted the cloth from the Prince’s finger and sent him a reassuring smile. In a flash, they grabbed the rest of the white cloth and began to wrap it around Tooru’s finger. The contrast of the burning sting the alcohol left and the coolness of the soft cloth made the Prince visibly relax. Smiling at this, Y/n finished winding the cloth.

“There,” they said, holding his hand up so he could see their handiwork, “it should be better by morning.”

As Tooru brought his hand in to admire the make-shift bandage, Y/n quickly gathered the rest of the glass pieces. Standing up, the young servant began to quickly dispose of the glass.

“You know,” they said, wiping their hands on their night shirt. “The next time you feel peckish in the middle of the night, you need only ring for a servant. There is really no need to travel all the way down here.”

Tooru smiled at this. “I suppose you are correct,” he replied as he regained his teasing façade. “However, the upper level of the castle gets so boring when you have lived there for nineteen years.”

The Prince stood up and began to approach the cook.

“Besides,” he continued, a large smirk on his face, “if I hadn't come I would never have gotten the absolute pleasure of meeting you.”

He then grabbed their hand and left a feather-light kiss on the knuckle. Y/n attempted to fight the blush and smile creeping on their face.

“Your recklessness will get you in trouble one day, Your Highness” they replied.

Tooru simply smiled and shrugged. Suddenly the grand, kitchen clock chimed, signaling that an hour had passed.

“The night grows short…” Y/n mumbled.

The Prince’s smile dropped, yet he nodded understandingly. “I suppose I should be going then..” he trailed off.

The cook nodded and watched him turn around to exit the kitchen. “Your Highness, wait!” they suddenly shouted. Tooru turned around, startled by their outburst.

“If you come back tomorrow night, I will be sure to save you some of that bread.”

Prince Tooru smiled brightly at this and bowed to them. “Until tomorrow then, my dear…” the Prince trailed off. A panic set in him once he realized he forgot to ask for their name. Noticing this, the young cook stifled a laugh.

“Y/n.”

Tooru flashed them an embarrassed smile. “Right,” he coughed, trying to regain his composure for the second time that night. “Until tomorrow, my dear Y/n.”

With that, the two parted ways. Prince Tooru left the castle’s kitchen that night with an empty stomach; however, he did not mind, in fact, he barely noticed it due to the overwhelming fullness of his heart.

Thus began Y/n and Tooru’s nightly routine. Every night at the stroke of midnight, Prince Tooru would sneak downstairs to the kitchen where Y/n would be waiting for him with fresh bread and warm tea. There they would do nothing but talk and share secrets they never thought they would. Y/n would tell him about their life. How they grew up, how they’ve never been inside the upper parts of the castle despite living there for so long, how they long to see how the other side lives. And, in turn, Tooru would tell them about his life. How his father ran the kingdom, how he was nervous to be as good a ruler as his father, how he wished to see beyond the castle to ensure that he could be a good enough ruler for his people. Tooru considered Y/n to be his closest ally and Y/n considered him to be theirs. However, there was always an underlying tension between them that neither of them had addressed, a boundary that had yet to be crossed. It was a feeling clear as day, yet neither of them could place what exactly this feeling was. So, through a fear of ruining their perfectly good companionship, both Y/n and Tooru kept this feeling to themselves, bottled up like a secret. These meetings continued normally for about a month until one day, the Prince came up with a plan.

It was a warm day in the beginning of June. The clock had just struck midnight and Prince Tooru was on his way to the main kitchen, as always. With a skip in his step he opened the large oak doors and saw Y/n pulling a fresh loaf of bread out of the wooden oven.

“You seem quite happy today, Your Highness,” they said, noticing his joyful demeanor, “did something good happen today?”

The Prince merely groaned and made his way over to them. “How many times must I tell you, you are allowed to simply call me Tooru.” he quipped, sending them a false look of exasperation.

The cook rolled their eyes, sensing the sarcasm in his tone. “You never answered my question” they retorted, a playful smirk on their face.

The Prince gave them a confident smile, almost unable to control his excitement. “Well, if you must know,” he started, causing Y/n to roll their eyes again. “I have come up with a plan for you and I.”

This caught the cook’s attention. “What do you mean ‘a plan for you and i’?” they asked.

Tooru began to beam. “I’m so glad you asked.”

He paced around the room as he explained his idea. “For a while I’ve been thinking about our situations. You wish to experience royal life and I wish to see the world. Well, it dawned on me today! We each hold the key to what we yearn for! You are able to come and go whenever you please, and I am constantly stuck in the castle.”

Y/n nodded, attempting to keep up with this rush of ideas. “I suppose you are right, in a sense..” they mumbled, watching the Prince pace.

“So,” Tooru continued. “I came up with a plan to help us both experience what we long for!”

Y/n nodded, invested in what he had to say. “Well, pray tell,” they said a bit impatiently, “what is your big plan?”

The Prince smiled, excitedly. “My father has gone to a neighboring kingdom for two weeks time,” he explained. “Whilst he is gone, I will accompany you on your visits to the nearby town during the day; there I may finally see how my people live and become a better ruler for them. Meanwhile, at nightfall, you will accompany me as my guest to my pre-coronation balls ; here you may finally get a chance to see and experience royal life! Don’t you see, Y/n? It’s perfect!”

Y/n gave him a disbelieving look. A beat of silence passed before they finally realized he was waiting for their response.

“Your highness...that idea is utterly mad.”

Tooru’s smile faltered. “How so?” He inquired.

Y/n shook their head and crossed their arms. “How exactly do you suppose this is to work? Won’t the townspeople recognize you? Your cover would be blown! Not to mention, I’m not sure the kitchen staff would take very kindly to me slacking on my chores to go frolic and play pretend.”

Once again, Prince Tooru let out a dramatic sigh and leaned against the wooden countertops.

“Oh sweet Y/n,” He said, a fake pout making its way to his features as he grabbed a slice of the bread sitting in between them. “You really have no faith in me do you?”

Y/n gave him an inpatient look, signaling for him to get to the point.

Tooru’s proud smirk returned. “I have arranged disguises for the two of us so we will be able to go out without being recognized!” He announced confidently. “You see, my plan is foolproof.”

Y/n scoffed. “Good, it needs to be if you are the one orchestrating it.” They teased, a smirk of their own creeping in.

Tooru gasped in mock offense as the cook let out a large laugh at his reaction. After a few minutes, the two stood in comfortable silence. The Prince climbed up to sit on the counter he was leaning on and bit into his bread slice. Meanwhile, Y/n contemplated his idea. As much as they enjoyed poking fun at him, Y/n knew that Prince Tooru was incredibly intelligent and they trusted his judgement completely.

“You are sure that we will not be caught?” They whispered, breaking the silence as they went to sit next to the Prince.

Tooru nodded his head and swallowed his bread. “Positive.” He assured, placing his hand overtop of theirs.

Y/n blushed slightly yet did not pull away. Small touches like this became frequent throughout their meetings, however, that did not mean they ceased to fluster them. Another beat of silence passed before the young cook let out a shaky breath.

“Fine.” They finally decided. “If you are confident in your plot, then so am I.”

Prince Tooru beamed and slightly squeezed Y/n’s hand.

“Wonderful! We will begin tomorrow morning,” He eagerly explained. “We will meet at the kitchen’s exit just before noon. I will supply both of our disguises and we can make our journey into town.”

Y/n let out a nervous chuckle and shook their head.

“Your recklessness better not cause me my head, your highness.”

Tooru gave them a bright smile and hopped off of the counter, extending his hand to help his comrade off the counter.

“Dear Y/n, you worry too much. Have a little faith in a close friend.”

With their agreement decided, the pair bid each other goodnight and hurried off to their quarters to prepare for tomorrow morning.

The morning sun slowly rose and shone upon the kingdom and its subjects. Neither the cook nor the prince had slept very soundly that night. Be it anxiety or excitement, neither party was quite sure. However, despite their tired state, the pair still found themselves at their arranged meeting spot and time. Y/n stood outside the door, the early summer sun warming their skin and cool breeze blowing across their face. The feeling was extremely calming. So much so, that they decided to lean themselves against the door and fully enjoy the serenity of the early June weather. Little did they know, Prince Tooru had arrived a while ago. It was a rare sight, seeing Y/n so calm and content, and Tooru was enchanted with it. In the month that the two had come to know each other, Prince Tooru had only ever seen Y/n with their guard up. Constantly stressed, on high alert. It was nice to see such a stark contrast, Y/n with their guard down.

“Angelic.” That was the term Tooru thought best fit them at that moment.

After a few moments, Tooru decided that, while he was relishing the sight in front of him, they had to be going soon. Quietly, he tiptoed his way over to Y/n, who still had not noticed he had even arrived. A smirk played on Tooru’s lips as he appeared behind them. Carefully he raised his arms and placed them on Y/n’s shoulders, shaking them as he did so.

“Surprise!” He shouted in their ear, causing Y/n to flinch and smack the Prince against his head.

Y/n gasped as they realized what had happened.

“Your highness!” They exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

Tooru laughed and stumbled over a little bit.

“You pack quite the punch, don’t you dear Y/n?” He teased.

Upon realizing that he was fine, Y/n rolled their eyes and lightly smacked his shoulder.

“You fool, do not scare me like that again!” They scolded. “I could have hurt you!”

Tooru gasped in mock offense. “How rude, Y/n!” He whined, trying to banish the smile growing on his face.

Y/n rolled their eyes and began to walk ahead. “Are you ready to venture on, your highness?”

Perking up, the Prince rushed to catch up with them. Together, the prince and the cook made their way into town. It turned out, the “disguise” Tooru had brought for himself was a simple blue hood along with a plain white shirt and brown pants that he had undoubtedly taken from the servants quarters. While it was simple, it was a relatively good costume. He genuinely did look like a regular townsperson rather than a prince. Once the pair arrived, Prince Tooru immediately ran off on his own to mingle with the townspeople. To Y/n’s surprise, he was actually very good at speaking to his subjects. He had told them that he was a simple traveler and asked for them to tell him more about the kingdom. This way, the Prince was able to learn more about the issues going on as well as experience them first hand. As it turned out, the kingdom was experiencing issues that he had never even learned about. Seeing the way he interacted with his people sparked a new sense of admiration in Y/n. Beneath his confident, cocky façade, Prince Tooru was a leader who genuinely cared about his people. Y/n could not help but smile at the sight of him listening intently to what each person had to say, knowing that he would remember each encounter once they returned to the palace. As the day continued on, Y/n showed Tooru around the town. They took him to the best fruit venders, the sweetest farmers, and the finest tailors the kingdom had to offer. With each stop Tooru grew more and more in love with his kingdom and the people in it. After walking away from a vegetable booth, Y/n noticed that the sun would be setting soon. They stopped momentarily whilst Tooru kept walking.

“Wait.” Y/n said, grabbing the Prince’s wrist to halt his movements. “Before we venture back to the palace, there’s one more thing I would like to show you.”

A soft smile took over Tooru’s features and he moved his hand to entangle his fingers with theirs.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” He smiled,

Y/n grinned and tightened their grip on his hand ever so slightly. Then, with their hands still intertwined, Y/n began to lead Tooru to the edge of town. The Prince could not help but smile softly as the cook excitedly dragged him to their destination. Upon reaching the edge, the two walked on a dirt trail for a little while until they were met with a small, well kept garden. There was a small river flowing nearby and a large assortment of various wildflowers scattered about. However, what really stood out were the giant bushes of red gardenias that seemed to cover the entire area. Prince Tooru looked around in awe at the beauty of the secret garden.

“I discovered this place about a week after our first meeting.” Y/n said, carefully sitting on a small wooden bench right in front of a gardenia bush. “It reminded me of you, in a way.”

The Prince’s gaze shifted to the cook’s at this. He moved to sit next to them, his eyes wordlessly urging them to continue. Having gotten the message, Y/n shifted and gave Tooru a nervous smile.

“It served as a nice, comforting escape from everyday life. A paradise, even.”

Prince Tooru’s face flushed at this. The explanation was a bit vague but he didn’t ask them to elaborate any further, they didn’t need to. Tooru understood. This was a confession. He carefully placed his hand atop of theirs, as he had many times before, and squeezed it gently. A secret confession of a love returned.

“I feel the same way, thank you for bringing me here, Y/n.”

The two sat in a comfortable silence with their hands interlocked. And, as Y/n rested their head on the Prince’s shoulder, Tooru could not think of any other place we would rather be.

As the serene moments passed the sun began to fall, causing a hazy orange atmosphere to surround the garden. The shade from the trees covered Y/n’s face as they opened their eyes. Noticing how late it was getting, Y/n turned to tell Tooru that they should take their leave soon. However, the sight they were met with caused any words they could have uttered to be caught in their throat. Next to them, the setting sun hit the Prince’s face perfectly. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back in relaxation. The golden hues made Tooru’s hair look warm and soft.

“Just like hot chocolate during the winter time.” Y/n recalled with a smile.

Suddenly, the Prince’s eyes opened slightly.

“You know, staring is considered to be quite rude, my dear.” Tooru quipped, his lips curling into a smirk. However his expression was different from his usual, cocky, exterior. There was an underlying softness in his eyes and a faint blush on the apples of his cheeks. It was not hard to tell that this was a side of him only reserved for those close to him. While the rest of the world saw Prince Tooru’s confident façade, Y/n was the only person who got to see the genuine, soft side of him. The thought made Y/n smile.

“Night grows near, we must venture back to the castle soon.” Y/n whispered, fearing that if they were any louder the calm atmosphere would crumble like glass.

Humming in agreement, Prince Tooru stood up and stretched his limbs. “Shall we then, my dearest Y/n?” He smiled, offering the cook his hand.

Y/n accepted his offer with a content smile. With their hands intertwined, as they always had been, the two made their way back to the palace.

Upon their arrival, Tooru removed his hood and snuck Y/n past the knights guarding the castle’s entrance. The two then scurried up the grand staircase, towards the grand hall where the royal family’s rooms were located. Y/n looked around the hallway in absolute awe. They had never been in such an elegant place before. The white marble floors were freshly polished and the golden columns seemed to sparkle. The walls were hung with beautiful family portraits that seemed to come alive on the canvas. Y/n’s gaze had been fixed on one specific portrait with a golden frame with carvings of vines etched on the sides. The painting featured a young Tooru smiling brightly and standing next to a slightly older girl, who Y/n presumed to be his sister. Behind them stood a tall man with a confident grin, who they were able to recognize as the King, and a slightly smaller woman with a kind smile that Y/n did not recognize. All of the sudden they felt two strong arms wind around their waist as well as the weight of someone’s chin resting on their shoulder.

“This is one of my favorite portraits.” Prince Tooru whispered in their ear.

The cook’s face began to flush red, they had never been this close to the Prince before and the contact was foreign, however it was not unwelcome. In fact, it was almost comforting, being in his arms.

“It was painted a week before my mother passed.” He continued, his voice dropping ever slightly.

Y/n blinked, unsure of what to say in this situation. They never really knew their mother. She had died giving birth to them, so there were really no memories left of her to miss.

“How did she die?” They awkwardly asked, mentally screaming at themselves for asking such a question.

“I mean-” Their attempt to fix the situation was cut off at the feeling of Tooru tightening his hold on their waist.

“It’s okay.” He reassured, taking a deep breath.

“My mother was assassinated while she was in town one day.”

Y/n’s eyes widened as they turned their head to look at the Prince, who’s gaze was still fixed on the painting.

“Her death is one of the reasons I have been forbidden to leave the palace.” He continued. “I suppose my father fears I will meet the same fate she did.”

A long moment of silence passed. The tension in the air was thick enough to run a blade through.

“Do you miss her?” Y/n mumbled carefully.

Tooru’s grip on them tightened once again.

“Sometimes.” He replied, sounding like he had more to say.

Just as Y/n was about to encourage him to continue, a loud GONG! shattered the atmosphere surrounding them. Frantically looking towards a giant grandfather clock at the end of the hallway, Tooru noticed the time.

“Damn.” The Prince cursed, releasing his hold on the cook. “We are going to be late!”

Together, the two briskly made their way towards the Prince’s chambers. Once inside, Tooru closed the door and locked it. Y/n looked around the room and noticed two outfits neatly laid out on a giant, white bed. The Prince grabbed the pile to the left and ushered the cook behind a large, blue velvet curtain.

“Here.” He instructed, handing them the clothes. “You may change here.”

Prince Tooru quickly shut the curtain and fumbled around the room to get changed himself. Y/n began to disrobe as they admired the garments they were given. They were made out of the finest turquoise-colored silks and were decorated with beautiful golden accents. As Y/n pulled the garments over them, they were met with a softness they had never felt from clothing before. Moving around they noted how the silks seemed to sway and how the jewels seemed to glisten.

“Y/n!” The Prince called out. “Do you require any assistance?”

“No!” The cook replied quickly. “I am finished.”

Immediately, the curtain opened and Y/n took in the sight of Prince Tooru. He was wearing a silly button up shirt with a light blue-green vest and golden trousers as well as his usual golden, topaz encrusted crown. Y/n noticed that their outfit seemed to mirror the Princes slightly, what with the colors and the overall style.

“You look very elegant, your highness.” They complimented with a shy smile.

Tooru on the other hand was absolutely stunned. Before him he saw what he thought had to have been a deity. The way the colors complimented Y/n’s complexion and how the garments clung to their features in the most flattering way left the Prince speechless. It was at that moment, Tooru truly realized how deep in love he was falling for the cook.

Y/n shifted under his gaze, a bit nervous that he still had yet to say anything. Noticing this, the Prince mentally kicked himself.

“My dear, you look….” He trailed off, finding it hard to regain his composure.

A slightly cocky smirk made its way to the cook's face.

“My my your highness.” They teased. “I believe this is my first time seeing you at such a loss for words. Do I entice you so?”

A light blush dusted Tooru’s cheeks at their jests. A soft grumble tumbled from his pretty lips as he lightly hooked his fingers to the back of Y/n’s hair, pulling them until their faces were merely centimeters apart.

“Do not tease.” He warned, darkly and with seduction dancing in his tone.

A heavy blush settled on the cook's face. However, before things could escalate any further, the gong! of a clock echoed throughout the room, signaling that it was really time for the pair to go. Pulling away with a satisfied smirk, Prince Tooru held out his arm for Y/n to take. Wordlessly they accepted, hooking their arm around his and allowing the Prince to lead them to the ballroom.

As the pair entered the ballroom, Y/n could not help but be astonished once again by their surroundings. The room was ginormous. The marble floors and golden walls mirrored those of the great hall almost exactly, the only difference was that throughout the ballroom, several marble statues of various greek gods were scattered throughout the floor. With a large orchestra in the corner of the room playing a familiar tune Y/n had only heard from the castle’s kitchen and various couples already waltzing around the dance floor, Y/n had easily guessed that the part was in full swing. Prince Tooru chuckled lightly, amused at the cook's obvious admiration.

“Shall we go and mingle with the guests?” He suggested, leaning in closely to their ear so that Y/n could hear him over the boisterous music.

The cook gulped harshly. They had forgotten they would have to interact with an abundance of such high class individuals. Sensing their nervousness, Tooru reached to grab Y/n’s chin with his thumb and pointer finger.

“You will do great.” He reassured. “They will adore you almost as much as I do.”

His words made Y/n relax a bit and instilled a newfound confidence within them.

“Alright.” They stated, determination laced in their voice. “I am ready, let us go forth.”

Smiling proudly, Prince Tooru led the cook to the dance floor and the night truly began. As the hours passed by, Y/n and the Prince danced until their feet ached, joked with guests until their voices got scratchy, and drank various types of wine until their heads got dizzy. Y/n could not think of a time when they felt more alive. The night had been a huge success. That is, until Tooru had to part from them for a moment to have a conversation with another leader.

“Just remain here until I return.” He had told them, his hands holding theirs. “Tis only a conversation about a treaty between our lands, I shall only be a few moments.”

And with that, he left a feather-light kiss against Y/n’s knuckles and disappeared into the crowd of nobles. As soon as he left, the entire atmosphere of the room began to shift. The previous excitement that filled Y/n’s veins had passed and been replaced with an overwhelming feeling of anxiety. Looking around the room, Y/n had only one thought in the back of their mind;

“I do not belong here.”

Feeling out of place and judged, Y/n frantically searched the room for someone familiar to them. They found themselves searching for the warm eyes of their father in the sea of people but, unfortunately, it was no use. Y/n felt hopelessly alone.

“Perhaps a little fresh air will do me some good.” Y/n decided, making their way towards an exit that led to a balcony just off the side of the ballroom’s entrance.

Exiting the crowded ballroom, Y/n leaned against the railing of the balcony. As the cool summer’s night air danced lightly across their face, they took a deep breath and attempted to relax.

“I just do not understand you Tooru.”

A deep voice interrupted Y/n from their thoughts. Searching for the source, their eyes landed on a balcony only a few feet away from the one they were on. They spotted Prince Tooru standing next to a taller man of whom they had never seen before. The man wore a black button up along with a dark red vest and black trousers. He had spiked black hair and atop his head sat a cold, ruby encrusted crown. Y/n had no doubts that he was also royalty and concluded that he must have been a friend of the Prince.

“You are going to be King soon, the Great King I might add.” The man continued, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“Are you not worried about who will succeed you afterwards?”

Tooru rolled his eyes at this, his signature unbothered smirk making its way to his face as he turned away from the other prince.

“Kuroo” He started, his voice calm and collected, a stark contrast against the man’s (now known as ‘Kurro’) brash tone. “It is as I keep telling you, I need not worry about a successor. It is already set in stone that my nephew will be the next heir after I.”

The response had only seemed to aggravate Prince Kuroo even further.

“Even so.” He argued. “Would it not be nice to settle down with another? Find someone to spend your days with?”

This question caused Prince Tooru’s smirk to fall and a far off look to gather in his eyes. There was an intense moment of silence between the two royals.

“I cannot afford any distractions.” Tooru said finally. “My kingdom is my first priority, you know this.”

Kuroo had let out an exasperated sigh.

“So, you will never be wed?” Kurro asked, defeated.

Tooru instantly answered, the hard, far off look never leaving his face.

“Never.”

Something about this conversation struck a chord within Y/n. They were unsure if it was the intensity of the situation, the amount of wine they had taken in, or the fact that (up until recently) all of their feelings had been bottled up. However, as soon as the words left the Prince’s mouth, Y/n let out a quiet, choked sob. Their emotions had moved to the forefront of their mind as the harsh reality set in.

“Of course.” They thought, tragically. “We were never meant to be in the first place.”

Bringing a hand up to their mouth, as to not let out any more miserable sobs, Y/n promptly exited the balcony and made their way to the exit of the ballroom. Making their way through the crowd of drunk, dancing nobels, they successfully reached the front gates of the castle and continued walking. They walked, and walked, and walked, until suddenly their steps turned into sprints. Y/n thought they must have appeared to be insane, running through the town in fancy clothes, sobbing their heart out. Nevertheless, they ran. They ran until their legs had reached their destination, the garden they had visited earlier that day. With a heavy heart, Y/n took a seat on the bench they sat on earlier that day with the Prince.

“How could I have been so naive?” Y/n thought bitterly as they buried their face in their hands and began to sob. Of course they could have never been, they resided in two completely different worlds. It was unknown to the cook how much time had passed before they began to hear footsteps nearing their location. Y/n quickly looked up and was met with a rather disheveled-looking Prince Tooru.

“I thought I would find you here.” The Prince whispered, afraid to startle the young cook. “Why did you run off? I thought we were having a lovely time.”

He sat down and reached to place his hand atop of theirs, as he always had, only for Y/n to flinch and remove their hand from his reach. This had puzzled Tooru. He tilted his head and looked at them with confusion, silently urging them to explain their behavior. Y/n let out a sigh and shifted away from the Prince slightly.

“Tooru..” They trailed off, trying to find the words to explain the situation.

The Prince was taken aback. Y/n had never addressed him by his first name before, and the sound of hit caused his heartbeat to speed up ever so slightly.

“What are we doing?” Y/n asked, sadness deep in their voice.

This has perplexed Tooru even further.

“What do you mean, dearest?” He asked, genuine confusion evident on his face.

At that point, all of Y/n’s frustration and sadness had begun to bubble over and pour out violently.

“What are we doing?” Y/n repeated harshly. “Surely you do realize that we cannot be together, we can never be together! There is no future for us, you made that clear in your conversation with your comrades!”

Tooru sat there in shock. He had been unaware that they had been listening in.

“Besides.” Y/n continued, letting out a shaky breath. “You and I were never meant to be anyways. We are too far apart, from different universes.”

A choked sob left the cooks lips as they hopelessly avoided the Prince’s gaze.

“So tell me, your highness, what are we doing?”

A long moment of silence passed through the garden as Prince Tooru processed what he had just heard. In reality, Y/n had simply left the conversation too early. After a little more arguing, Tooru had confessed to Kurro that he had fallen for one of his servants and, following his coronation, he had sworn to find away for the two to wed. Prince Tooru loved Y/n more than he had loved anything else. After realizing he had not been the best at accurately expressing that, his heart broke like the porcelain plate that cut his finger when they first met.

“Y/n..” Tooru mumbled, scooting closer to the cook. “Y/n, look at me.”

He grabbed their face gently and, hesitantly, they let him. Prince Tooru’s eyes were filled with concern and love, while Y/n’s were filled with tears and devotion.

“Y/n L/n.” Tooru whispered, his voice soft and full of complete adoration. “I am completely, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. They put their hand on Tooru’s wrist and pulled back from him a bit, as if to inspect him to see if he was lying. Yet, when Y/n looked into his eyes, all that could be found was pure, sincere emotion.

“I love you so much, my heart aches.” The Prince continued. “I will not rest until we do have a future together. If I am to spend my life with anyone, it has to be you. ”

A moment of silence passed before Tooru leaned in cautiously, giving Y/n a chance to pull away. However, without a second thought, they leaned in, connecting their lips in one fluid motion.

And, as the two lovers shared their first kiss in a garden of red gardenias, a sense of hope began to bloom in their hearts. A hope that maybe, just maybe, the universe could allow these two worlds to collide. Just this once.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #tooru oikawa #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa #oikawa x reader #royalty au #frog.fiction

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tardytothepardy · 3 years ago

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Fruits Basket - Vol. 20

I want to try to break the book into three main chunks. The last time I did that, it was easier to write about. So uh, the first chunk has to do with Tohru and her feelings about Kyo, and Kagura's reaction, the second chunk is Akito and Ren's past being revealed (it's totally a mess but it's to be expected), and the third chunk is about things unraveling.

Ok cool let's do it. (The picture was at the end of one of the chapters, I just liked it a lot idk) (also tumblr needs to increase the character limit for the alt text, it's only 200 characters, which goes by quick. twitter has like,, 420, which is more manageable)

Tohru came to Kazuma's house to visit Izusu, and Kagura came to confront Tohru about something. What possibly could it be (as if I didn't say so in the beginning)? Kagura was talking about it a bit with Kazuma, and he said he just hopes that Tohru's feelings don't come from a place of pity (which is a mild "oof" point for Kagura, because that's mostly why she loved Kyo), because Kyo has had to deal with people either flat out hating him, or being nice to him out of a sense of pity. Even Kazuma admitted (earlier in the series. I don't remember when but I remember reading it) that part of the reason he took in Kyo as a child was because he was making it up for how he treated his grandfather, the previous Cat. Over time, those feelings fell away, in favor of genuinely caring for Kyo's wellbeing, but Kazuma doesn't seem to be the one who would forget about stuff like that. (Also it turns out that the previous Cat's partner basically stayed with him out of a sense of pity, as well)

It turns out that Izusu and Tohru were talking about the same thing, and Tohru worried if her feelings for Kyo were selfish, because she wanted nothing to take Kyo away from her, not the curse, not the Sohma family, nothing. Kagura then bust into the room, smacked Tohru across the fucking room it seems, and said, "Then fucking tell him that!!" (direct quote, 100%) Izusu yelled at Kagura for hitting Tohru, asking what right she had for doing that, but given Kagura's nature, it doesn't seem completely out of nowhere. She just got pretty emotional in that moment.

For Tohru, it seemed to knock the right screw loose for her, and she thought back to when she was talking about her father to Kyo, and if he said really anything against what she was talking about, she apparently would've just zipped her lips and pretended she hadn't said anything, and moved on, but he didn't. Which is pretty nice of him to do, honestly. Anyway, when she came to again (because she got knocked out from Kagura's emotion-packed slap), Kyo was sitting there, because Kazuma had called him, ("Hey dude so there was a smackdown here and Tohru got knocked out lmao" is how I'm imagining the call. kjdhkfgjh can you imagine Kazuma saying "lmao" I can't) but Kyo didn't ask about the fight (which was a Wise Lesson from Shishou™), another nice thing for him to do, though in my opinion it would be a pretty easy thing to explain.

Ok, so now onto the second chunk, which kinda has some of the stuff in the third chunk later on but whatever. Story flow, it's pristine today.

It starts with some of the,, maids? or something that are in the Sohma house (they never get names so far as I can tell, and I don't really know what to call them, but at one point someone referred to one of them as a maid, I think? Idk.) talking about Ren, and wondering why Akito still let Ren wander around freely like she does. Another said that Akito can only do so much, because apparently there is a crowd of people in the house that are "Ren-followers", and if she had Ren be completely contained within an area, there's a chance that those followers might start some shit, which would be a headache to deal with. One of the maids said that Akito has been sick (or holed up in her room) for too long, and the rest of the Juunishi are doing nothing to help, which does not help with Ren, who spouts out stuff about how the Juunishi doesn't really care about Akito at all. The maids seem to have a particular thing against Ren, because they view her as an unsuitable woman who somehow managed to become partners with Akira, the previous God, I think, but also the father of Akito.

Speaking of Akito, she has a box. That same box that Ren tried to use Izusu to get back. Something about that box has to do with Akira, and it seems important to both Akito and Ren, though honestly at this point Akito is probably just holding onto it out of spite for Ren, I wouldn't be surprised (I, too, am a petty bitch. I understand the mindset). She asked Kureno if he has any idea what is in it, and when he says he doesn't, she simply says, "Father."

Now we jump over to Ren and Shigure, who are also talking about about that elusive box. Apparently Shigure was tasked to get the box, but obviously he didn't succeed. He said (thought? He didn't say it aloud, it was one of those thoughts thing--- anyway) that he didn't really care, he didn't even want to touch that box, much less even look at it, it was no loss to him. Out loud, he says that it would be inappropriate for him to hold it, and Ren agrees, saying that only she can have it, just like how only she could have Akira, when he was alive. Are you already sensing where this is heading? Well, I'll say it anyway.

Flash back to Kureno, he's thinking about Akira, from when he was younger and Akira was still alive. He remembers Akira as very beautiful, in a fleeting way. Akira was sickly, all the time, and sad. Everyone knew that he wouldn't live for very long. But since he was the head of the house, of the family, it was imperative that he find a partner and produce an heir. That person was Ren, who was one of his care-takers. The rest of the staff (or something??) didn't like that she was going to be with Akira, it seemed unsuitable, but she was the only candidate. She was the only person who recognized how lonely he was, is what Akira said as a defense when people objected. And so, they were married. The older members of the family despised it, the younger thought it was the beginning of a new change, a new era. Ren said (because this section is flipping between Kureno and Ren) that it was only them two (haha grammar): Akira and Ren, they were all who mattered. She was everything to Akira. So when she had Akito, well, that muddled things. Because now there was another person that Akira loved: his own fuckin child. That's right. Ren got jealous of her own child because Akira loved his very own daughter. That's,, that's something. Shortly after that, Ren decided that Akito would be raised as a boy. Or maybe it was while she was still pregnant. At any rate, she said it was because it would be unsuitable for the head of the family to be a woman, but we all know the real reason: it's so that Akira wouldn't be loving another girl, even though that other girl was his daughter. Jfc Ren is a handful. From Kureno's memory, it seems like even as a kid, Shigure recognized that.

Back to Shigure and Ren, Shigure says that he feels sorry for Ren, probably thanks to all that upset she has. She says the same, that the Juunishi have had to deal with the abuse that Akito has dealt to them simply because of that "bond", and that there's no way that anyone could honestly love Akito. Shigure also comments that sometimes he thinks that if Akito had been raised as a woman, she'd look exactly like Ren, which instantly pisses Ren off. She just starts screaming about "Who do you have to thank for Akito being born! I'm the reason that (insert angry comment about how she's the only reason why x happened)". I'm kinda glad she isn't in the series much, this is exhausting. I know she's in the book later, and maybe a bit more in the next few, but jeez. It's a lot.

Anyway, let's end the chapter with Momiji having his curse be broken. The end is near (for the Juunishi, not this post lmao).

The second that the curse breaks, Akito knows it (that's probably the bond. I doubt it's some kinda "we'll be friends forever uwu" kinda thing, it's just kinda an awareness of each other, or maybe just God's awareness of everyone) and races towards Momiji, begging him to not leave. Now that the curse is broken, Momiji is confused as to how those thoughts he had prior for Akito were even there, now that he sees Akito clinging onto him, whimpering and panicked. Momiji waves her away, saying that he'll keep it a secret, and that Akito should go rest, wasn't she feeling sick earlier?

We pan over to the school, where Haru is asking Yuki if he's noticed anything off about Momiji. Haru can't place it, but something seems off, maybe not. Kyo ends up running into Momiji walking down a hallway, and asks him about it (he overheard the others talking about it), and Momiji just out and says it: his curse broke. He said he imagines that Tohru would be happier about it if it were Kyo's curse that broke, and that he (Momiji) lost. (I guess he lost in some unspoken one-sided competition of "getting" Tohru, because y'know she's not her own person who is capable of deciding these things for herself or anything)

Later, Momiji goes back to the main Sohma estate, to apologize to Akito for how he acted yesterday, but also to say that he won't be staying there any longer. Akito takes it like a champ, slapping Momiji across the face and insulting him, saying that he's a traitor, he has nowhere else to go, his family either doesn't remember him or hates him, he'll never be happy! and Momiji's just like, "Yeah lol I already feel lonely", that he can't be with the person he loves, and he no longer has that One Thing that previously connected him to most of the other people he's close with, and that there's no going back. He does say though, that it's not Akito's decision or place to say whether Momiji will ever be happy or not, because he might not be happy now, that does not mean that he won't ever be happy in the future. He then asks Akito how long she will stay at the house, thinking that eventually, everyone will come back to her, that no one will be happy without her. What if it's actually her that is most afraid-- Akito isn't down for an analysis, she just tells Momiji to leave.

Let's now go down memory lane, down a nice and happy time, especially for Akito and Ren: Akira's death and it's after effects. Happy times. (apparently i was wrong, the thing i said was the third chunk that wove in nicely with the second was just the second chunk, i think this is the actual third chunk)

Akito is thinking back (on a rainy morning, extra points for setting the mood) on her relationship with her parents. With Akira, it was nice, he always was kind and caring, telling Akito that she is what everyone has been waiting for, and that she thought she was the one Akira loved the most. With Ren, however, she was always cruel, from the start. She always glared at Akito, she was always mean. Akito hates her. We're brought back to the day Akira died, where Ren bursts into the room, asking why she wasn't notified sooner, why Akira had to die alone. One of the attendants said his condition worsened too quickly to call Ren close by, but also that Akira hadn't died alone; he died with Akito by his side. The attendant said that Akira's will had been passed onto Akito, she was now the head of the family. Ren was angered at that, there's no reason for Akito to still be around now! She only tolerated her child being around because Akira liked her, but now that Akira is gone, there is no one to love or care about Akito. Akito said that wasn't true, that all of the Juunishi will love her, because of their bond. (Which is basically what Akira said. He put most of that stuff into her head, and she doubled down on it whenever Ren said anything against it, which might as well be every single time they were around each other)

Back to the present, Kureno comes in the room to talk about something, but Akito interrupts him, saying that she was happy when Yuki was born, as the Rat. It was mostly just something she used to prove Ren wrong, and she used it as long as she could (much to the deterioration of Yuki's mental health). She thought back, over the years, to all the bad things that had happened, how she tried so hard to keep everyone close, and how all of them had, one by one, come to "betray" (cough cough, try to live their own lives, cough cough) her. After Shigure and Yuki left to their present residence, Ren said that they had given up on Akito. When Akito again mentioned their bond (which, really, now that I think about it, has basically been the singular thing straining to keep everything under control. Akito's sole sense of identity was being God, she's never had anything else.), Ren waved it away, then challenged that if any of the Juunishi can go out into the world, experience it in all it's freaky magical ways, and not be taken in by it, and instead return to Akito, then she will have been proved wrong, Akito's claims this whole time will have been correct. If they failed to, however, Ren said that Akito would have to give up the Sohma name. But Akito believed it, she truly believed she was right, that nothing big enough would come between her and the rest of the Juunishi (Tohru has entered the chat). She had to believe it, she just had to. But now, it's evident, between how Haru reacted upon learning about Izusu, Momiji's demeanor after the curse broke, the general way that the rest of the Juunishi float away from Akito, that it isn't true, and with that, she has nothing to hope for.

Upon this realization, Ren bursts into the room, knee-length hair floating around her, eyes crazed, knife in hand, demanding for Akira. Demanding for that box, and whatever contents were inside. In response, Akito fuggin yeeted it at Ren, she didn't give a shit. It flashed back to right before Akira died, and he soothed Akito by saying that, despite dying, he will always be with her. He wanted for Ren to be happy. He wasn't upset that he was dying so soon, he knew that he was just a man who was going to die, but he was happy that he was able to have a child, and to have had that child with Ren, and since that child was special, it was proof that their relationship was a special one. Back to the present, Ren scrambles to the box, tears it open hungrily to find,,, nothing. The box was empty. It'd always been empty, said to have held Akira's soul, but it was mostly just something to help Akito with Akira's passing. Suddenly, Akito grabbed the knife that fell from Ren's hand, poised to stab Ren but then--

Hiro's curse broke. Ren can thank that bond she always scoffed at for saving her life. But hey, now Hiro can hold his baby sister, which is nice. Yay for family moments.

Boo for Akito, because it's just really grinding in that the curse is quickly falling apart, and there's absolutely nothing that she can do about it. Ren taunts Akito, asking if she was trying to kill her. The attendants blow up, one yelling at Ren for making such a scene, taking a knife with her, and another scolds the first for giving Akito that box in the first place, it's stupid! The first attendant said that Akito knew from the start that it was empty, common sense would say that much! (idk man it could've held one last letter from Akira to Akito, a letter wouldn't affect the weight of the box significantly, it's not common sense)

Akito leaves the room, and Kureno follows. Akito says that it was both common sense but also not, that there wasn't anything in the box. She wanted to believe there was a chance that something was in that box, some kind of invisible energy that would help her. But even after opening it, seeing that it was empty, she still held onto it, knowing there wasn't anything. And that was her common sense, that's what she thought. She'd never been given any other way of thinking, of living, so why and how should anyone expect differently? Kureno says that she can start learning now, that that was what he wanted to talk about earlier, that she can't stay here, she'll never be able to move on, to which Akito cuts him off with "Fuggin now, bitch?? You're saying that now?? That doesn't help me! It would have helped in the beginning! But not fucking now!" (which btw is true. i doubt akito was even allowed to go to a public school, that she was schooled within the estate. i really believe that she's never really been outside of the the properties that the Sohma family owns) Then she stabs Kureno, with that knife she's been holding all this time. She reasons with it saying that Kureno's "halfway kindness" has been killing her this whole time, that it can't be fixed by Kureno saying that maybe Akito should go touch some grass. As Akito is running from the scene (more like haggardly stumbling), she continues thinking that it's Kureno's fault, it's not on her, until she remembers what Yuki was saying at the New Year's gathering about blame. It doesn't really fix anything, it just momentarily makes you think that you're not in the wrong. *record scratch* What if it's Akito's fault, then? All of this? What if it's her fault? What if it's the fault of the person who made everyone change? What if it's Tohru's fault?? (dun dun dunnnn)

Meanwhile, back at the other Sohma house (Shigure's house?) Tohru has some confessing to do. Before that though, Kyo has some confessing to do, though not about the same thing. He tells Tohru that he knew her mom before she died, and that he was the reason she died. He tells her that they met when he was really young, and how they had kinda become friends (in that way that people become friends by talking often, but Kyo never told Kyoko his name, because he had some weird thing about having a name so similar). That all fell apart the day that Tohru went missing. He promised that he would find her and rescue her, but after finding that Yuki had done it (the evidence was The Hat), he lashed out, and never talked to Kyoko again. Years later, when he was at the crosswalk, who was beside him but Kyoko, who he recognized instantly. He wasn't sure what to do, whether to say something to her or hold back. He was totally able to grab her arm, get her out of harm's way, but he didn't, he was too scared. (plus yaknow the whole cat thing) He beats himself up about, still to this day. He does the same with his own mom's death. It was his fault that his mom killed herself, she couldn't stand having such a monster as a child. It was too much for her, and she couldn't take any longer. (It wasn't. I won't say that his mom wasn't put under strain for having Kyo, for knowing that he wasn't human, that he turned into a weird monster if his bracelet was taken off, but from what we've seen of his dad, it was probably at least 85-90% his dad's fault. He was too caught up in the politics of the Sohma family, ashamed of the fact that Kyo was the Cat, the worst out of them, that he couldn't even salvage having one of the good freaks to have as a child of his, and he took it all out on his wife and later his son.)

And the book ends on that cheery note. (Why do I say stuff like that why I am I like this)

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deathisanartmetzli · 3 years ago

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A Capri-Sun Pouch || Nadia & Metzli

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @humanmoodring @deathisanartmetzli

SUMMARY: Nadia and Metzli make a deal.

WARNINGS: None

Really, it wasn’t Nadia’s fault that she was drinking coffee this late. It was Coffee Plus’s fault for being open late enough for her to grab an americano to go while she walked around town. Used to, when she woke up from the first exorcism over a year and a half before, she would go on runs late at night, wearing whatever clothes she’d had on for the day, in an attempt to exhaust herself. Now, Nadia didn’t want to be exhausted. She just wanted to be awake. So awake she was, walking around town a little too late for most people to be comfortable, a to-go cup of coffee in her hands that she occasionally sipped on.

There weren’t too many people out, so Nadia walked a ways to the closest cemetery. She wondered what it said about her that a year ago she had been so scared of the dead. Really, a year ago she hadn’t been herself, another woman in her head and body. Now the dead provided a kind of comfort that she couldn’t get from the living, as much as she enjoyed being around people these days. During the day, she needed emotions, to not feel alone, and the library was good for that. The Artesian was good for that, too, on nights that she worked the bar. But when it was late, and when she didn’t want to bother anyone, the dead made good company. The ghosts kept her own feelings at bay, even if she couldn’t feel them the way she felt the living. They were a reminder that she wasn’t alone, and, God, Nadia hated being alone. Sometimes she craved being alone. It was a paradox. There was someone other than the ghosts out with her; they seemed less focused on her and more focused on another, and she looked around, curious. “Hello?”

Sleep hadn’t found Metzli in over a century, and it wasn’t going to, ever. After the last few days they had, they just wanted to roam about, maybe find a snack, but mostly just let themselves wander. Bex’s blood from the day prior kept them sated, but they could always eat a little more. Their appetite waned though, as they found themselves strolling about a cemetery. There was too much to think about, too much to figure out. Answers escaped them and it frustrated them to no end. Maybe this was a bad idea. Yuca would be curled up at their feet by now if they had just stayed home. She’d be purring and even making biscuits as they played video games.

With a sigh, an unfamiliar voice sauntered into their ears. Tilting their head in curiosity, Metzli saw Nadia. “Yes?” They answered, acting as if they truly belonged there. Ghosts surrounded them, but they ignored them completely. No use speaking to the dead if you had nothing for them, after all. “What are you doing here so late at night, miss?” Metzli asked with a hint of charm, trying to mislead the stranger into thinking they were innocent and cared about her well-being.

Another person that Nadia couldn’t feel. Like Griffin, like the ghosts. She looked at the stranger, her curiosity growing even more. It was always strange when she couldn’t feel someone, when she knew they were standing in front of her. Or, at least, she hoped they were standing in front of her. A part of Nadia wanted to reach out and touch them, to make sure. She was never really sure. But she responded easily, holding up her cup of coffee and saying, “Just, you know, out for a walk. It’s a nice night, right?” She looked up at the sky, taking in the thick clouds. “I mean, it’s not, like, snowing in August at the moment.” Which was really fucking cool, in her eyes. Or maybe warm was the right word. “What about you? It’s kinda late for anybody to be out, right?

“Can’t sleep. Figured I’d do something spooky.” Metzli replied, turning on their charm. Nadia was cute, really cute, more like absolutely gorgeous. Definitely a sight that they were happy to see. “I’m Metzli, what about you?” They extended an ice cold hand to shake, the other lazily went through their curls as they smiled at Nadia.

Seeing someone, especially a woman this late at night wasn’t usual, and it almost always meant they were either dumb or supernatural. Metzli gathered that it was the latter. Though she smelt human, there was an aura about her that they couldn’t quite place yet. An aura that the ghosts around both of them responded to. The response wasn’t negative by any means, they hoped she wasn’t any trouble.

Nadia laughed. “You know, maybe I’m just weird, but cemeteries aren’t all that spooky.” She ran a hand through her own hair. Really, the forest was much spookier. Or abandoned buildings. Her apartment before it had been cleaned. That weird fucking company on 666 Brimestone. Plenty of spookier places than a cemetery.

“I’m Nadia,” she said, taking Metzli’s had and giving it a shake. Maybe their hand was just cold because hers had been warmed by her cup, or maybe it was the air. Somehow, though, Nadia didn’t think so. She’d been told she had cold hands, but theirs were like ice. “Nice to meet you, Metzli,”she added.

It was Metzli’s turn to laugh now. Their smile grew as they did, and they were relieved that she was responding well so far. “Yeah, you’re definitely weird,” They replied playfully. “But that’s okay. So am I.” Carefully, they sat onto a bench near the two, needing to get off their feet. Not only that, but they practically expected Nadia to follow.

“You sure you’re just out for a stroll? Pretty woman like you shouldn’t be out so late. This place likes to prey on you.” Metzli’s words sounded vaguely like a threat. Maybe it was. They were hungry enough. But no, they were trying to be better. “Luckily, you ran into me though. I ward off creeps and all things that go bump in the night. It’s kind of my super power.” Patting on the bench, they compelled Nadia to join them. “Come. Sit.” The words were heavy, and subtly demanding. If they couldn’t get a meal, at least maybe they could have a distraction.

“You know, I keep encountering other weirdos in the cemeteries. I don’t know what this says about me or you.” Nadia kept her tone light, joking, friendly. She might not be able to feel them, their presence and emotional dead zone for her, but she could tell that they were flirting. She’d ignore it until it got too blatant, though, just to make sure. Fuck, she wasn’t even sure that she knew what flirting was, doubt creeping in with the way that she couldn’t feel them, couldn’t really know for sure.

“Just out for a stroll, yeah.” Nadia moved to sit without even thinking, keeping a respectful amount of distance between them. “I’m kind of like you. I couldn’t sleep.” She didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to see the things that sleeping always forced her to relieve or imagine. What’s a memory? What’s a dream? How could she possibly know, anymore, when her mind hadn’t been hers for so long. Nadia raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid there’s not much left to prey upon, but I do appreciate the, uh, creep warding.”

“It says we need to find new places to hang out,” Metzli chuckled, wincing slightly from the broken bones obtained from the day before. An arm draped across the back of the bench, their hand hovering only mere centimeters from Nadia’s shoulder. “Creep warding? Oof. I need to work on my flirting game. I may be getting rusty.” They mocked being struck in the heart, pretending to be hurt by simple words. This was made obvious by yet another charming smile.

“Really though. ‘Not much left to prey on?’ Something’s up. You don’t come to a cemetery ‘cause it’s particularly fun. It’s quiet. It has solitude.” A certain sincerity laced their voice, becoming a little vulnerable in the moment. “If I’m being honest, I don’t sleep. I can’t…” Even if they literally could sleep, they probably wouldn’t. But not knowing whether or not Nadia knew of the other side to White Crest meant they had to be careful. “Too many thoughts. Too many memories…you know?” Metzli’s eyes were soft and a little distant, thinking of all the events as of late.

“Hm, maybe.” Nadia cocked her head to the side, taking in their wince, reading their facial expressions as much as she could. And, right, yeah, okay, they had been flirting. They were still flirting. So Nadia kept her smile carefully neutral. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m notorious for not recognizing flirting well. And, besides, I’m, like, kind of in a relationship, so,” she waved a hand over her face, “I’m a little blind to this kinda shit.”

Keeping up the neutral look, something she’d worked on over the years, Nadia said, “What? No, no, I think that cemeteries are a hell of a time. This is, like, totally where the party’s at.” And she avoided looking at the ghosts around them, the way they swayed a bit more, coming in closer, their features a little clearer. Her expression turned empathetic, though. “God, yeah, I relate to that. The not sleeping, the too many thoughts, memories, shit like that.” She rubbed her arms, chasing away imaginary, ghostly fingers and real chills.

“Is literally everyone taken in this town? Can’t catch a break.” Metzli rolled their eyes, but kept their arm on the back of a bench. “Trouble in paradise though? You said ‘kind of’ and I can work with that.” A small chuckle escaped their throat as they spoke. There was no chance now, but they didn’t care. Nadia could still be a distraction, a welcomed one at that. “God, I haven’t slept in like…over a century.” It sounded like they were exaggerating when they were actually being completely honest.

A solemn look was strewn over Metzli’s face as they thought back on everything. How they wished they hadn’t met Bex. No, not that. They wished that they had never been convinced to give up their soul. “Can I be candid?” They asked abruptly, “Are you different? What are you? This town is weird and I just need to know.”

A bit surprised, Nadia said, “Is everyone in town taken? Surely you haven’t been turned down that much. You’re-- I mean,” she motioned at them, “you’re, like objectively insanely hot.” She blinked, though, and shook her head at their words. “Oh, no, no trouble. It’s just new. I was…” she paused, trying her best to think about how to word things, “out of town for a couple of months, so things got paused, but, no trouble.” She watched Metzli closely as they spoke, considering their words. “Long time to go without sleep,” she mused.

“Honesty’s always appreciated,” Nadia said, and maybe that came from being best friends with someone that literally couldn’t lie. Even if Nadia was shitty at returning the favor. Even if she relied on little white lies to help her feel like she was in control of her life. “Am I different?” She repeated the question only to give herself time to consider what she wanted to say. “I’m-- Well, yeah, I guess. I didn’t really know about it for awhile, but I guess. I’m an empath. Super lame, right? Supernatural empath.” Nadia rolled her eyes. “It sure is fucking weird. Are you… also different?”

Metzli smiled at the compliment, confidence building once again. It had been a while since someone was so blunt about their appearance. “Insanely hot, huh? Thanks,” Leaning back, they rested their head on the back of the bench, letting themselves relax. They were in good company, supernatural company. “Empath isn’t lame. It’s not as lame as being a twilight reference.” A huge grin formed on their face and they brushed a hand through their hair.

The air was cold, but the interaction between the two was warm. A warmth they had only really experienced with Bex as of late. And a little bit with Milo too. Was making friends this easy? “If you didn’t get it from that alone, I’m a vampire. A shitty, soulless vampire.” Metzli insulted themselves, feeling utterly down and broken. Picking themselves up again, they scoffed at themselves and ruffled their hair once more.

“Can’t forget objectively. You’re, like, really attractive,” and Nadia raised an eyebrow, “and you totally know it.” She got as comfortable as she dared, rolling her shoulders, the sound of bones and joints popping loud even to her. “Oh, come on. I’m a glorified moodring. And one without any sort of healing or strength or speed or anything. Kinda totally lame. Especially in comparison to Dracula.”

And Nadia had kind of figured the some kind of dead species thing, but it was nice to be right. She’d only ever met one other vampire, and the only question she’d really asked was if he’d met Queen Elizabeth I, and he’d been nothing like Metzli. She looked at them, frowning. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? I mean, I don’t know about the soulless thing, but you don’t seem too shitty.”

A hand waved dismissively at Nadia, obviously disagreeing with her statement. As far as Metzli was concerned, their only saving grace was their gallery and their cat. Nothing but horrible acts and deadly attacks. For as long as they could remember, they never thought twice about what they wanted to do kill-wise. No one's life mattered anyway, not even theirs. “Just wait,” they replied solemnly. “Once I’m done with this little theory, I’m probably just gonna go back to my antics. Not gonna care who I bite or who I hurt anymore. You met me at the perfect time.”

Their smile faltered, only for a moment, not looking forward to the disappointment they’d most likely conjure. “Being an empath must be shit sometimes. I feel no empathy. Very few feelings that connect me to others, actually. Can’t imagine the exhaustion, on top of your own life too.” Metzli thought out loud, trying to shift the attention to Nadia. She probably needed the cover of night more than they did.

“What kind of fucking theory are you testing out?” Nadia asked, squinting at them in the dark. Maybe there was something to this claim of theirs that they were soulless, but, somehow, she felt like there was more to it. She laughed, the sound as bitter as the coffee in her hand. “What can I say? I’m a lucky girl. It’s really up for debate on what kind of lucky, but I’m lucky as shit.”

Nadia knew that tactic, the one of changing the subject back to the other person to avoid talking about things that, really, were always unavoidable eventually. Still, she allowed it. She couldn’t remember how many times people had allowed it for her. “Like I said, it’s the lamest superpower. And it doesn’t even work on everyone. Like, I can’t feel you. Or other, uh, undead people, I guess. Not really sure how that works. But, really, now that I’m figuring it out, it’s the least exhausting thing about me.” She took a sip of the coffee.

“Whether or not I can be good,” Metzli answered simply, with no semblance of emotion. Their eyes avoided hers, not wanting to delve too much deeper on the subject. “A friend of mine said it was a choice, so recently I took to not consuming blood unless I knew where it was sourced from.” Sucking breath through their teeth, they chuckled dryly. “Pretty much starved for almost two weeks and had to feed off of her. Stupid, I know, but I had to start somewhere.”

They were thankful that Nadia took the signal, and didn’t press much further. Like them, she had probably experienced being pushed to reveal information they weren’t ready to, thus she understood the need to just move on. “What’s more exhausting? How hot you are and the many suitors that want to get with you?” Metzli joked, bringing a lightheartedness to the conversation.

Considering Metzli’s words, Nadia looked at them before nodding. “I mean, yeah, it’s kind of a choice. “Good” is a relative word that we put a lot of societal expectations on, but, like, it’s totally subjective. What I consider to be good could be completely different to what you consider to be good, which could be different to what, fuck, I don’t know, the pope considers to be good. Good and evil are binaries that only exist in fiction, I’m afraid. Nothing’s that simple.” Nadia wished it was that simple. There was nothing that she wanted more than to be able to call Cordelia evil and let that be the end of it, but she’d been more than that. She’d been a person, once upon a time, and greed and selfishness had made her twisted, but she was still a person. “We’re all just people capable of both. Soul or no soul. If that’s a problem for you or whatever.”

Raising an eyebrow, Nadia asked, “Do vampires do the whole blood bag thing, or is that made up by Hollywood? Whatever the case, uh, to paraphrase some kickass cinema, people are friends, not food.” Then again, who the hell was she to attempt to curb a vampire’s appetite? She looked at Metzli with a lopsided smile. “Nah, it’s the constant reliving of near death experiences,” she joked back. “Really weighs down the mind, exhausts the body. But, like, if I sleep, it wins, right?”

“I guess so. I’m just more inclined to commit heinous acts without questioning it. Without any regard to anyone. You don’t get to be soulless without doing something exceptionally…horrible.” Metzli trailed off to think for a bit. Being so open lately had made it easier to reveal information, easier to talk and do more than just flirt. Nadia had a way about her too, though. She was lighthearted even about her own troubles. Metzli liked that, they liked not having to be so serious about these things.

“I’ve only done the blood bag thing a few times. I got one from a really obscure source that said they got it from a hospital. It was expensive, but I don’t know the town well enough yet to know where to get my food.” They shrugged a little weakly, embarrassed by the lengths they had gone to just to attempt to be “good.”

Even now, Nadia had no serious disposition about her pain. Sure she looked a little hurt, but that didn’t stop her from teasing herself about it. “You humans need sleep though. Does anything help?” Metzli asked, their voice a little dry and uncaring despite trying to seem genuine. They felt nothing, and did not want to do anything to help, so if she revealed what would and they could do it, they would. Doing the opposite of what they want, ensuring they’d be doing some good regardless.

“There are plenty of people with souls that commit heinous acts without questioning it,” Nadia said. Hell, all Cordelia had been was a soul, and she’d never felt guilty. Or maybe she had, and Nadia had just been asleep in that time. Or thrown out of her body. “You’re not, like, special. I don’t know, maybe you just have a better excuse. ‘Sorry I killed your mom. I left my soul in my other pair of pants.” Maybe she was making too light of this situation. Maybe she needed to tone it back, some. She’d been told, when she was younger, that her sarcasm and stupid dry wit would get her in trouble one of these days. At the very least, her parents had never been impressed.

“Locally sourced and organic blood bags,” Nadia mused, thinking that this was the world that she was living in, now. Where she had conversations with people who shopped for blood bags like they were fruit at a Whole Foods. Or maybe drugs in a back alley. “Well, I’ve always heard that the good stuff is the most expensive. And, you know, kudos to you for actually trying not to feed on the first motherfucker you see. Or, like, in my case, the first sleep-deprived dumbass walking alone at night.”

Laughing at both Metzli’s tone and words, Nadia said, “Oh, yeah, humans absolutely need sleep. I crash really hard every few days. But nightmares are a fucking bitch, especially when there’s always just a little bit of, like, uncertainty about what’s real and what’s not. So I try to put that shit off as long as possible.”

Metzli laughed heartily, even throwing their head back. “Oh man, that was good. I needed that laugh. Fucking shit. Wow, you’re adorable.” Their tone was lighter, feeling better with how Nadia approached the matter. Her way of handling sensitive topics was refreshing, granting them a little bit of freedom from the depressive state they had fallen in. “I thought about it, not gonna lie. But I’m pretty fed at the moment anyway. Trying to keep my figure, you know?” Another smile creeped up on their face, obviously joking.

It had been a very long time since they had had a nightmare. But they remembered them, albeit the memories weren’t fond ones, they remembered them nonetheless. “Been a while since I had one,” Metzli stated, “But I do remember them sucking. More than me too,” Another joke, an attempt to keep the mood light. “Always thought having someone there would help, but…yeah, never got that chance. And now I can’t sleep anyway. Can you do anything to stop them? Or make them better at least?”

Metzli pondered on the idea, maybe keeping her company would help. Hell, maybe they could get a payment via feeding off of her if she agreed. They could do something good and totally get something out of it. That’s how it worked, right?

“I aim to bring laughter and joy everywhere that I go,” Nadia said, the tone of her voice dry even as she schooled her face into a deadpan. “And I take full offense at being called adorable. Puppies are adorable. Cats are adorable until they hit that point that they’re just large and grumpy and mean. But grown women with designer bags under their eyes? Not adorable.” She took another sip of coffee. “Fair enough. My blood might give you heart palpitations, anyway. Do you have a heartbeat?”

Nadia supposed that it would have been quite some time since Metzli had a nightmare, especially if they couldn’t sleep. She wondered if the absence of a soul played into it in any way, as well. Could one experience bad dreams if they didn’t have anything to feel bad about? Was that what it meant to be without a soul? “They do indeed suck worse than any vampire could ever hope to. Sometimes having someone there helps. It’s nice to be able to feel people, to not be alone. But it’s always a game of real or not real, you know?” Is she still there? Is Nadia still in control? How long has she been asleep? Where is she? “I sleepwalk, too, so that’s fun.”

“No, no. I’m a vampire. Undead. Can’t really be qualified for that term if I have a heartbeat,” Metzli tapped on their chest and laughed. “This thing hasn’t moved a muscle in over a century. But your blood would probably start it up again.” Another laugh and they were feeling much lighter. This late night walk ended up working out very well. Even if they probably wouldn’t scratch a certain itch. They leaned back and rested their arms behind their head, even more comfortable than before. Save for a few groans from the damaged ribs.

“I’d like to challenge those nightmares then. Maybe I can suck more,” Metzli gave Nadia a warm smile and looked her in the eyes. “Listen, I know you’re not interested at all, and that makes me uninterested anyway. But uh…if you need some company, I’d be happy to be around. Got nothing to do all night and I don’t sleep anyway.” They offered, shrugging her shoulders so Nadia knew it didn’t matter if she declined or not. “Just an idea.”

“Hey, how is a lowly, uneducated empath supposed to know what qualifies as undead or not? I don’t know if you people have heartbeats or eat cereal or sleep in coffins,” Nadia said. She was enjoying this. Somehow, she always seemed to get into bantering conversations with people that she couldn’t feel while she was in a cemetery. Two things couldn’t really be called a pattern, but it was really fucking weird that it happened twice. “I don’t even have blood anymore. Just caffeine and tequila.”

For someone that claimed to not have a soul, Metzli was kind. Or, at least to Nadia, it seemed like they were trying to be. “You wanna be my sleep support vampire?” she asked, eyebrow raised. She… didn’t know if she wanted that. She remembered when Regan had offered to make sure she didn’t sleep walk, how disastrous that had been, and she didn’t really know Metzli. They were nice, but she didn’t know them. “I’m probably really boring to watch sleep. Or, like, really depressing. Unless you enjoy, uh, night terrors. But I could always use company. Keeps shit from getting lonely. Makes it easier to stay awake.”

Metzli was enjoying Nadia’s company. Having people around proved to be better than they thought. Never had they met so many people that they actually connected with. They just never took the time. Connecting always seemed so minuscule, so useless. After a century spent in solitude, they were finally beginning to understand why people intermingled. “Sleeping in coffins is such a gross stereotype. I don’t even sleep!” They laughed, the sound echoing through the cemetery. Ghosts turned to acknowledge the source of the sound before continuing with their monotonous tasks. “Ooh, I do like a little tequila with my blood. Makes for a great time.”

The space between the two grew smaller as a hand patted Nadia’s leg momentarily. “Nah, this would be a straight up job. And I wouldn’t watch you sleep. More like, I play video games and you just sleep. And in return, maybe I can take a bite, get a buzz from your blood?” Metzli raised an eyebrow, curious to what her answer would be. “Of course, that is a pretty steep payment, so I could settle for something easier. Like I said, just trying to find an ethical resource, and what’s more ethical than consent from the source?” They shrugged, trying to downplay the seriousness of their offer. “Or if you know anyone, I’d love to get my hands on some human blood of some kind. Bagged or not. Just trying to make conscious choices.”

“Like I said, how’s a poor, uneducated empath supposed to know?” Nadia asked. “Maybe you guys hang out in coffins. Again, no idea. My vampire knowledge is horribly literary instead of actual.” More things that should be disturbing, that would be disturbing if the young woman that she’d been years ago still existed, was how comfortable she was around people that she blatantly knew could kill her. And here she was, trusting that they wouldn’t. How stupid was she to trust someone that had already revealed to her that they were soulless? Pretty fucking stupid. “It’s quality tequila. I’ve developed a taste for the finer stuff, lately.” She blamed working at the Artesian. It was better than blaming the ghost with expensive tastes.

“Ah, a job.” And if that kind of self-serving mentality was what made Metzli soulless, then Nadia could understand it. That wasn’t soullessness. It was pragmatism. “You want me to give you blood in exchange for sleep?” She thought about it. Really, was it any worse than chaining herself to her bed at night or passing out at the kitchen table? At least, this way, she could be sure that she wouldn’t pull her arm out of its socket or walk out into oncoming traffic. “How much, exactly, are we talking? And I wouldn’t ask you to do this every night. Sometimes I have plans at night, anyway, and I really don’t mind the whole not sleeping thing. But, uh, how much are we talking?”

“May need to give you some research homework if we’re gonna be friends,” Metzli chided half-heartedly. For most vampires, this innate trust Nadia was having was dangerous. And if the two of them had met a few weeks ago, Metzli would have surely taken her down with no problem. There would have been no friendly conversation, there would have been no exchange in names. But here the two were, seeking escape in their own respective ways, laughing. Even discussing services and charges.

Metzli’s eyes widened in surprise at Nadia’s response. They stammered, tripping over their words before settling on saying something, anything. “Whoa, whoa, really?” Hiding their surprise was pointless. “I guess in exchange for a night’s sleep, half a pint would be enough. If I do this for 3 days or more, we can just settle for a once a week deal. It’ll keep me fed and you wouldn’t have to deal with too much biting. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up liking it.” A mischievous smile laced their lips, a stark contrast from their earlier surprise. “And you’ll probably get a good night’s rest when I do feed. You’ll be so loopy that you just pass out.”

“Hey, I’ve read all the classics. It’s not my fault they’re wrong,” Nadia said. But she was actually interested in this, in learning more about supernaturals. Research had always been Nadia’s favorite part of college. She’d just wanted to learn. She’d just wanted to read books and write papers and learn. And if she got to learn about something real that she’d always thought to be fiction? Then she wanted to learn even more.

“I mean, why not?” Nadia shrugged. It was interesting to see Metzli stammer when they’d been so composed previously. “You want ethically sourced blood. I’m well aware that I’m, like, constantly on the verge of having a really bad time because of sleep deprivation, and I’m willing to look for solutions wherever I can. The idea of just passing out sounds really fucking nice. If I can get away with not being woken up by nightmares, then I’ll take it.”

When Nadia agreed, it was hard to contain their absolute shock. She had actually agreed. Metzli had greatly underestimated their new friend. Two birds, one stone. “There are plenty of reasons why not, but I don’t want this deal to go sour.” They said, a giant grin on their face. “When do you want to start? And where?” Licking their lips, their fingers twitched in anticipation. With a fresh meal right in front of them, their body vibrated and their mouth watered. No control would be lost, but the instincts were dutifully acknowledged.

“You can always back out. And when you invite me into your home, you can always rescind the invitation,” Metzli explained, using the tactic of transparency to make Nadia feel safe, like she had control. In this case, she very much did. “Alternatively, you could sleep at my place some nights when you get comfortable enough. My gaming setup is the best there, but I can make due with my Switch.”

This was probably the stupidest fucking thing that Nadia had ever agreed to. Like, just really fucking dumb. But it was just a little blood. She could stand to lose a little blood every now and then. “You’re right, totally a fuck ton of reasons not to do this. But, like, I’m a shit decision maker. I’m curious to learn more about vampires, and I’m curious to see if this works. I get knowledge and possibly sleep, and you get your ethically sourced meal.”

Nadia considered it. She hadn’t slept much the night before. Barely at all. She rolled up her sleeve and looked around. It was an empty cemetery, save for the ghosts. One that she recognized as Eunice, Nadia’s unaccustomed eyes managing to pick up on a few things, seemed to be moving about anxiously, fretting. Eunice was a fretter, Nadia had learned. She held out her wrist. “No time like the present. If this gets too much, then we’ll stop, but. Might well just fucking do it.” She paused, frowning, “And what’s a Switch?”

Metzli arched a brow at Nadia, watching her roll up her sleeve and look around the cemetery. She really did make horrible decisions. Though, they did give her a few chances to change her mind. If she said yes, then she was good to go, and they didn’t hesitate any further. Sweet, sweet liquid copper was calling to them, and there was not going to be a struggle. There was not going to be anything inherently wrong about this.

“A Nintendo Switch. It’s a console. One I can take around. Gotta have something to do late at night that isn’t painting, you know? I own a gallery, so art is my whole job.” Metzli said, gently wrapping their right hand on Nadia’s forearm and cupping the other with their left. Exposing her wrist to them, red eyes began to glow in the night, and canines extended into fangs. It was a smooth transition, calm and serene.

“Take deep breaths, and let me know if you start getting sick. Half a pint shouldn’t take more than ten seconds.” Slowly, Metzli’s teeth inched closer to Nadia’s wrist, giving her more time to breathe. As gently as they could, they sunk their teeth into her skin, sapping the energy from her, and savoring every gulp.

It was one thing for Nadia to be told that Metzli was a vampire, but it was another thing to see their fangs, to watch their eyes glow red in the darkness. One of the ghosts came in closer to their bench. “It’s fine, Eunice,” Nadia said, hoping that she was talking to the right ghost. “I’m not caught up on gaming consoles from the last few years. Totally had a DS in high school, though.”

Nadia took a deep breath and counted to ten as soon as she felt needling like teeth pinch into her skin. It hurt, but it wasn’t anything like some of the pain that she’d experienced. It wasn’t like getting shot by an invisible bullet or a knife or an exorcism. When ten seconds were up, she asked, her voice cracking before she cleared it. “You’re-- You own an art gallery? That’s kind of cool.”

With a huff, Metzli released Nadia’s arm and applied pressure to her fresh wound. They saw the ghosts hovering around them, but didn’t acknowledge them like she did. Non-corporeal beings weren’t ones they often mingled with. “That was incredibly satisfying. Are you feeling loopy at all?” They asked, still applying pressure to Nadia’s arm. “And yes, I do. You can come by any time. It’s called Crest Works Art.”

Their eyes and teeth were still shifted, but were gone with a blink of an eye. Silence fell between them, the only sound in Metzli’s ears were the ghosts and Nadia’s unsteady heartbeat. “I can carry you to my place or yours. Supernatural strength has its perks,” they smiled, their whole face back to looking human.

“Not loopy, just--” Nadia tried to stand before promptly sitting back down, her head spinning. “Wow. Okay, maybe a little-- My fucking head, dude. Holy shit.” She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. “Glad to be of service. But cool. Cool, cool, cool. I dig art. The girl I-- The complicated relationship thing-- she’s an artist. I like art.” Maybe she was a little loopy.

“Oh, please. I’ve been stabbed with a fucking knife, I can totally walk.” But Nadia absolutely couldn’t walk. Not right at that second, at least. God, her fucking head. “I might need assistance for the walking thing. I am but frail and human. Or, like, a cookie. Isn’t that what people get after donating blood? Cookies? Doesn’t that help?” Would coffee help? She looked down at her cup. Probably not. It was empty, anyways. “You don’t know where I live, and I’m definitely not up for walking that far, so, like, take me to your art den. At the very least, if I don’t sleep, it might be wicked cool to see your stuff. If that’s okay.”

“Right, complicated relationship. Is she gonna be upset that you’re letting an extremely hot vampire drink your blood?” Metzli jested, helping Nadia up to her feet, and then smoothly maneuvering her into their arms. “I keep food stocked in my apartment just in case, and I believe I should have cookies.” The walk began, a slight breeze brushing through their hair. Nadia was definitely strong, they were even more sure of it after the stabbing comment.

“You’ll get to meet my cat, Yuca. You’ll also have to disregard the mini sofa I purchased for her to lay on next to my own couch.” They laughed, holding tightly to Nadia. It would take thirty minutes, but the two would get to Metzli’s apartment in no time at all.

“I hope not,” Nadia murmured, but the truth was that she didn’t know. And, really, there were probably a lot of people in her life that would be upset over the fact that she’d essentially offered herself up as a Capri Sun pouch for some maybe sleep and information from a century old vampire. “I think the vampire part might be more of a problem than the extremely hot part, if I’m being honest. No offense.” But she nodded her head at the mention of food. She was feeling… drained felt a little on the nose, but it was definitely the word she was looking for.

“You bought your cat a sofa?” Nadia asked, laughing. “Dude, that’s, like, so fucking sweet. Maybe you have a soul after all.” That drained feeling was starting to creep up like the way she felt when she knew she was about to pass out. She knew it was going to happen soon. The last thing Nadia remembered thinking about was the fact that she wanted to buy a cat sofa for Rhiannon, too.

#a caprisun pouch #wickedswriting #metzli and nadia #dash #writings

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years ago

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Hellooo how's your new job going?? I hope it's going well! Anyway, I had an idea where the reader comes home kinda late and Geralt stayed up waiting for them. They're roughed up because they got in a fight with some asshole, nothing too bad, but blood looks scary and Geralt bandages their wounds while gently and exasperatedly chastising them?? (Along the lines of 18, 25, and 72?) Oof long prompt ok bye

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt x Reader Word Count: 1,000 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock @kemmastan @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @amirahiddleston @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual a/n: Long prompts are perfectly ok! Work is going alright, still a bit of an adjustment and still just shadowing but I’m scheduled to “meet” with my first client next week! Thank you for the prompt request and your patience! xo

The blood had dried and you were grateful for that at least.

The cool night air had stung against the wet, bloodied parts of your face and you’d had a longer way to walk than you realized. It would have been shorter if you hadn’t let the bastard lure you out to fight instead of forcing him to accept your challenge at the tavern. Your head ached and it was far later than you’d told Geralt you’d be back by but you were reassured by the thought that he would certainly be asleep. Or so you’d thought until you saw the campfire still blazing away, something Geralt never left burning when he went to sleep lest it grow out of control. He looked up the moment you noticed him as if he could sense your thoughts and you saw him blanch, a surprising feat for one so deathly pale already. You stumbled through the clearing and he crossed over to you in an instant, taking your face in his hands which began to gently feel around your scalp for lesions.

“It’s late, shouldn’t you be asleep?” you asked. The amber eyes met yours, a look of incredulity and frustration in them as his mouth thinned with barely repressed anger.

“I was waiting for you,” he said. You felt guilt settle into the pit of your stomach and let him lead you to an overturned log though you wanted to tell him to stop fussing. He pulled out the waterskin and a clean cloth, wetting it before kneeling before you. The cloth was cool and you were grateful to feel the stickiness be wiped away. You were startled by how quickly the cloth turned red, not even the soft pink of a trace of blood but so red it looked as if it had been dipped in blood itself.

“Oh,” you said as you stared at it, watching Geralt wring it out and rinse it again and again. He continued to clean it, looking relieved when he saw it was a relatively small cut and not the large wound he’d expected.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he bit out. You winced from the sharpness of his words as well as the sting of the cut as he rubbed an ointment into it to clean it out and prevent infection.

“If you’d been there you would’ve fought him too he was talking about Ciri, saying the most horrific things and I couldn’t just-”

“Yes you could have,” he interrupted, “You should have.”

“You would have done it too,” You insisted.

“I am a witcher and you are just a human,” he barked. You flinched and he felt a slight pang of regret at his choice of words. He knew you felt insecure about your role as his travel companion. You were neither a mage nor a witcher or even a bard who could charm the townsfolk. And lately even he would admit you were mostly a pain in his ass, but you were his pain in the ass and he couldn’t imagine doing any of this without you.

He finished bandaging you in tense silence, your eyes burning with unshed tears as you stared into the crackling fire, allowing the dancing flames to distract you from all of the unspoken words you were biting back. Words you would regret and most of them words you knew were untrue. When he finished he rose and took a seat next to you on the log, trying to find the right words.

“I worry,” he said.

“I know,” you replied with a heavy sigh.

“You are very capable and very smart. Most of the time,” he said pointedly, trying to find a balance where you understood that you couldn’t take risks but also that you were valued, “I know that what he said must have been horrible. I trust that you had reasons, but you are…”

He wrestled with his words and his still forming feelings for you. Feelings he scarcely believed or trusted or knew what to do with. Feelings that made him go half mad waiting for you and made his blood run cold when he’d seen you covered in blood looking like a ghost.

“You are important to me,” he finished, “And I need you to help me keep what is important to me safe.”

You stared at him for a while and eventually he cracked under the weight of your insistent gaze and turned his eyes to meet yours. You held them, staring at each other in silence as more unspoken words formed but no sound broke the stillness beyond the crackling of the fire. You smiled softly and nodded in acknowledgement and he was grateful that you didn’t ask for answers or clarification when he had neither to offer you just yet.

“You need sleep,” he said decisively. You nodded in agreement and yawned, the adrenaline worn off and the physical toll of the night just as exhausting as the heightened emotions. You walked to your bedroll and lay in it. You’d just closed your eyes when you heard a soft whumpf next to you and turned to see Geralt lay his next to you, looking a tad sheepish when you gave him a questioning look at his sudden closeness.

“It’s important that you stay warm. So your wounds heal,” he said, kicking himself for how lame his excuse was. You fought back the smile and just nodded with a serious expression and when he lay besides you, you stretched and yawned and “accidentally” fell back against his chest before falling asleep. His hand lay on his side but when your breathing evened out and he was almost certain you were asleep, he let it protectively curl around your waist before tucking your head beneath his chin, the smile on your face unseen but the skip in your heartbeat felt against his chest. Geralt was in a great deal of danger, he realized, but somehow he couldn’t stop smiling.

#Geralt x Reader #Geralt imagines #Geralt fluff #Geralt angst #tw blood #reader request

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castiel-left-his-mark-on-me · 5 years ago

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OMG, Jensen and Misha are having SO MUCH cybersex. Probably only slightly less than all of the cyber cuddling they're doing, too. I bet this is SO HARD on them 😢

They’re both sticky—from sweat and everything else. Jensen can see the low lamp light gleaming off Misha’s skin; and Misha can see the same in the glow from Jensen’s screen.

It has been months since they’ve actually been next to one another—the longest time they’ve been apart in over ten years. To say they hate it would be a grave understatement, but at very least, they have video-chat to make it all a little more bearable.

“Jesus—I’m disgusting” Jensen grumbles, reaching off to the side to grab a box of Kleenex.

Misha watches as the man cleans the splotches off his own stomach; and he smiles, knowing that Jensen could roll around in fresh manure and still be far too attractive for his own good. “Yup. You looking all sweaty and sexed-up is the worst.”

Jensen rolls his eyes but he still grins into the camera. “Well, you’re looking pretty bad yourself then … with your hair all long and that scruffy beard on your face.”

“What? Now you don’t like my beard?”

“Nope. I hated running my hands through it. I hated how it felt against my thighs. And I really hate it when you’re all scruffy like that and then you suck me off. It’s just awful.” Jensen’s grin has grown from ear to ear because the memory of the last time Misha’s lips were around him is already making his spent-dick twitch again.

“If that’s true, then why didn’t you let me shave it the last time were all together?” Misha knows the answer, but he loves Jensen’s post-orgasm ramblings too much not to egg him on.

“What can I say, I’m a masochist.”

“So—the next time I see you, I should just tie you down and torture you with my beard hair?”

Jensen bites his lip as he imagines it. “If you must.”

Misha chuckles softly. “When it comes to tying you down and having my way with you, it’s basically law.”

Jensen laughs a little too hard at that. “Since when do you care about following the law?”

After a pause, Misha sits up some more. Jensen has heard all his stories—the breaking-and-enterings, the petty theft, even the ones that he didn’t get caught doing, which is really lucky, because if he had, he’d probably still be in jail. “I have my moments.”

“Well …” Jensen sighs, feeling a sudden wave of tiredness wash over him, “I miss your moments, and I miss you.”

Misha’s eyes lax at the corners, feeling something wash over him as well—but it’s not exhaustion, only love and admiration for the man on the other side of the screen. “I miss you too. Very, very much.”

Jensen yawns and then scoots closer to his laptop so that he can prop his elbow on the desk and hold his head up with his hand. “But I miss you more. I should be falling asleep next to you right now.”

“I know. You’d be the little-spoon.”

Jensen nods, eyelids sagging a little—the new closeness to the image of Misha making him feel just a little bit better and a little more relaxed. “I like being your spoon.”

“I like spooning you … and forking you. And occasionally knifing you.”

Jensen scoffs as he fakes a grumpy-glare into the camera. “Okay, Cas. What has Dean done to piss you off this time?”

Misha snorts but soon, he’s leaning closer too, wishing he could feel Jensen’s warmth through the monitor, but there’s only the cool air of the room around him and the dim hum of his computer. “He hasn’t kissed me yet.”

“Hmm” Jensen says in understanding. “Well, I will make sure to give him a good talkin’ to. Cas will get all the kisses the next time they see each other.”

Misha smiles, watching as Jensen’s body droops and his eyes start to flutter closed. “Good. I hope next-time is really really soon. Jensen nods slightly but he doesn’t respond, and Misha knows that it will only be a few more seconds before the man is asleep in his chair. “Jensen … Jensen …”

“Huh?” Jensen snorts, jolting awake a little. “Wha?”

Misha can’t help but laugh. “Go to bed now, or else you’ll wake up with keyboard-face.”

“Don’t care” Jensen grumbles after another moment. “I miss you too much.”

Misha sits back once more, wishing so badly that he could crawl through the screen and hold the man, it makes his stomach hurt. “I know … but I will still be here tomorrow. We can talk then.”

Jensen groans, but he eventually sits back too, stretching out his naked body into a long, beautiful line, and Misha can hear some of his friend’s bones crack through the speaker. “Oof” Jensen grumbles, finally relaxing before rubbing his neck.

“See?” Misha muses. “You’re too old to be up this late. Now, go to bed—before Danneel scolds me again for exhausting you.”

“Nah, she’s getting sick of me at this point. She probably welcomes the break from my snoring.”

“I know Vicki feels that way about me” Misha says, but he’s all too serious. Him being around the house so much is driving the poor woman mad. She never asked for a third child.

“Well, tell her she can send you my way if she needs to get rid of you” Jensen mumbles sleepily.

Misha looks the image of Jensen over once more—noting the bags under his eyes and the slack in his muscles. “Will do; but seriously, Jensen … go to bed. I will talk to you tomorrow.”

Jensen glances as the clock in the corner of the screen as it reads one AM. He is exhausted, and he knows that his kids won’t let him sleep in tomorrow since he promised them a game of soccer in the backyard … the idea of which seems almost painful to think about now. “Yeah … yeah, you’re right. I’ll go to bed.”

Misha smiles into the camera, happy that his friend is finally listening. “Good. I’ll call you later, okay?”

Jensen nods once more, but then stops, finally waking up just enough to really look at Misha through the screen. “Okay, but hey, Mish … do me a favor, will ya?”

Misha pauses, leaning a bit closer with the serious tone he hears in Jensen’s voice. “Of course. What do you need?”

Jensen takes a moment, taking in Misha’s face—his nose, his lips, his beautiful eyes that glow even brighter now that the guy is sitting so close to his monitor. He’s stunning, and Jensen can’t help but stare.

“Well …?” Misha prompts.

Jensen shakes his head a little as the gravel in Misha’s voice sends a small shiver up his spine and jolts him out of his trance. He smiles “Don’t shave your beard in the morning, okay?”

Misha smiles back, chuckling at the silliness of this man—this man that he’s been head over heels for for the better part of a decade. “Okay … I won’t shave it … for you.”

Jensen sighs, feeling extremely lucky that Misha would do anything just for him, even something as simple as not shaving a beard that he knows drives the guy crazy when it gets this long. “Thanks… I love you … a lot.”

Misha feels his chest tighten, and suddenly he’s finding it hard to fight back the burning tears welling up in his eyes. “I love you too, Jensen. More than you know.”

“Good” Jensen says, locking eyes with the brilliant blue ones that are halfway across the country but completely in his heart.

“Very good” Misha smiles. “The best.”

#Ary answers #Cockles #Jensen Ackles #Misha Collins #quarantine #you know I had to write something ...#I know they hate being apart #poor babes #Ary writes #fic rec #ficlet #jenmish

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precuredaily · 4 years ago

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Precure Day 204

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 Go Go! 06 - “King Donuts Awakens!” Date watched: 8 January 2021 Original air date: 9 March 2008 Screenshots Transformation Gallery Project info and master list of posts

mood

The character re-introduction arc reaches its epic conclusion and shows us where Rin has wound up after her moment of self-realization in the Y5 finale. It turns out, she wound up constantly tired. Relatable. Let’s dig in!

The Plot

Nozomi and Rin are on their way to Natts House to prepare for the grand re-opening. Rin is visibly very tired and confesses that she was up late the previous night.

images with sleepy auras

As they arrive at the store, they run into Syrup.... or more accurately, he runs into them, carrying an urgent letter from Milk. (Remember this, because Syrup sure doesn’t) However, just then, a brilliant light erupts from inside of Natts House, so they all rush in to see what’s happening. They find everyone gathered around a table with the Rose Pact in the middle, glowing, and then it opens up and King Donuts emerges, fully awake. Then he yells at everyone to stop staring at him.

blinded by the light...... how does that song go again?

After the opening, the gang tries to introduce themselves to King Donuts, but he assumes it’s another Eternal trap until Coco and Nuts reveal themselves. Instead of being relieved, however, he just pivots his anger onto them for being incompetent and letting him get attacked by Eternal. So yeah, not off to a great start here. While they watch the goings-on, Rin yawns, and this further annoys the already irate king. Growing frustrated, he tries to leave, but finds that there’s a barrier around the Rose Pact that’s trapping him until he fully recovers. As you may imagine, this does wonders for his good mood.

I’m not yawning because I’m bored, I’m yawning because I’m bored AND tired.

Cut to Eternal’s headquarters and a very fatigued Scorp drops a huge report on Anacondy’s desk, mentioning he hasn’t slept for six days while writing it. However, she dings him on numerous minor errors, deeming it unusable, and tells him to combine it with the previous report and redo it. Exhausted and holding a stack of paper half his height, Scorp collapses and the pages fly everywhere. I have to say, Koyasu acting tired is a fun change of pace for him.

these are the eyes of a man who has lost all hope

Back at Natts House, everyone is still trying to appease King Donuts. He insists he’s fine already but in attempting to demonstrate this, he wears himself out quickly. Karen offers him the apple she snapped a few episodes ago, but he refuses to eat it because he doesn’t trust them. The girls give up on him for now, because they need to get to work opening up the store, but they notice Rin has fallen asleep.

Nozomi advises them to just leave her be, trying to get Syrup to help them pass out fliers instead. He refuses and wants to know why they don’t wake Rin. Nozomi explains that Rin was busy all day with sports clubs, tending to the family shop, and watching her siblings, so she stayed up all night designing accessories because it was the only free time she had. (I am very familiar with this concept.) She also admits that Rin didn’t tell her this, she deduced it because she knows Rin and how she works.

With that settled, the remaining girls, as well as Coco and Nuts, get to work handing out fliers. Syrup, however, stays behind to look over Rin, because he refused to help any other way. He muses over his situation.

At that moment, Rin wakes up, and Syrup asks if she really was up all night designing jewelry. She realizes her old friend Nozomi has read her like a book. She admits to feeling guilty that she not only stayed up late working, but she couldn’t come up with any ideas, and now she’s missed out on handing out fliers as well. She feels useless (big oof) and contrasts herself with Syrup, who she says is working hard to get to the Cure Rose Garden. Syrup disagrees and insists she works way harder than him. At this point, King Donuts, who has been listening in, interjects and commends Rin for being critical and analytical of herself, saying it’s the key to self growth. I feel like there’s a missing line in here about not slipping too far into self-doubt, but regardless, Rin remembers she’s supposed to be at futsal practice and runs off before the end of the King’s speech.

“Gah!” - Natsuki Rin, 2008

After she’s gone, the king and Syrup discuss how hardworking she is, along with the other girls. Also there’s a gag where King Donuts didn’t recognize Syrup until he turned back into his fairy form which further establishes that Syrup has a bit of a negative reputation far and wide.

Meanwhile, at the practice field, Rin isn’t doing a whole lot better at futsal than she was at jewelry design. As a result of staying up late, she’s still tired, so she’s missing passes or overshooting goals. She even accidentally kicks the ball over the fence and into the woods, so she goes to retrieve it while yawning some more.

It’s here that she is confronted by an equally sleepy Scorp, who asks her to hand over the Rose Pact so he won’t have to write up his report, and he can sleep. It’s kind of pathetic, kind of comical.

Scorp turns the futsal ball into a hoshiina, so Rin transforms as well. Syrup swoops in to save her from Scorp but drops the Rose Pact, so King Donuts tries to talk down the villain. However, Scorp is undeterred and even sees more value in having one of the monarchs inside the Rose Pact. The other girls show up and transform, temporarily distracting Scorp (as well as the king, who is surprised that they’re the legendary warriors) but he then continues his advance until Rouge punches him away. Then she hears Lemonade screaming as the Hoshiina tries to fling her off, so Rouge rushes in to kick it and rescue her friend. Scorp once again tries to capture the Rose Pact, so Rouge separates from the team again to protect the fairies, but Scorp captures her instead and taunts her about trying too hard to do too much by herself and says she’ll only ever be halfway finished. This hits Rin at her core and she is unable to resist an attack from the Hoshiina, but at the last moment her teammates jump in front of her to defend her. They remind her that she’s not alone, they’re there to help her, and then Dream gives an inspiring speech about how Rin always challenges her situation and works harder than others, so they’ll always support her. Scorp is unimpressed, but Dream rushes him with a Shooting Star. Feeling newly motivated, Rin also performs her new finisher on the Hoshiina: Fire Strike! She summons a fireball at her feet and then kicks it into the monster, which of course dissolves back into a normal futsal ball. Scorp flees, muttering about how he’ll have to include this in his report as well.

As the dust settles, King Donuts admires the Precures, and then has a seemingly random realization about the Rose Pact and the Red and Blue roses, or rather, the lack of blue rose. In case you had forgotten that plot point.

the answer will surprise you

Back at Natts House, King Donuts opens up a bit more to the girls and they chat back. However, he quickly reiterates that he doesn’t acknowledge Coco and Nuts as rulers yet. When they ask Syrup to help them with the shop, he reminds them that he’s only here to deliver a letter from Milk, and he finally hands it over to Coco. (took him long enough) It turns out the letter says there’s an emergency in Palmier Kingdom and everyone needs to come there quickly! They want to go but aren’t certain how.... until they remember Syrup has the convenient ability to travel between worlds. He initially refuses, but King Donuts cleverly appeals to both his pride and his kind-heartedness, causing him to think about the conviction all the girls have shown in their solo outings thus far, and he agrees to take them. So just as quickly as it opened, Natts House is closed again and the gang boards Syrup to fly to the Palmier Kingdom. As they rise into the air, they soar forwards into a watercolor warphole, surrounded by floating lights. They fade to white and the credits start.

The Analysis

Something I truly appreciate about this episode is that it picks up from the first series finale, and shows that Rin hasn’t magically become a top tier accessory designer, she still has moments of artist’s block, and she really struggles with just finding time to create, which impacts her social responsibilities. (sounds familiar) Rin’s struggle is a recurring theme, and I'm always glad that unlike certain later shows, they don’t glamorize her sacrificing sleep, they just portray it as something people sometimes do even if it’s not in their best interests. Contrast with that episode of Go Princess, you know the one. It’s a straightforward cause and effect: Rin stays up late designing, so she’s tired the next day, and that influences her interactions.

It has some positive responses, such as getting King Donuts to recognize how hardworking she is and swaying his opinion on the girls; and some negative impacts, like kicking the futsal ball too hard and over the fence. With all that said, I must once again remind you all not to sacrifice your well-being for your goals, even if I’m bad at following my own advice.

King Donuts (or Doughnuts if you prefer) is an interesting character. At first he’s paranoid that he’s in another Nightmare trap, but as he grows to accept his circumstances he warms up a bit, especially when he hears about how hard Rin is working. He remains critical of Coco and Nuts, understandably so, since their negligence led to him being attacked previously. However, he doesn’t dislike them, he is sharp-tongued because he wants to make them better kings. Physically he resembles a diminutive dragon. It’s not the most apparent visual but when all four Rulers are together the pattern begins to become obvious. More on that ~eventually~.

although they’re all in the OP so, ya know, clues

A secondary theme throughout this arc has been to show Syrup starting to acclimate to the girls and begin appreciating their hard work and way of doing things. He’s still stubborn and wants to do his own thing, but it takes less arm twisting to get him to go along with the girls’ requests. Usually. As he admits to King Donuts, he respects their work ethic and their devotion to the causes they love. He entered the picture as a loner delivery boy who just wanted to do his job, but getting roped in with the Precures’ misadventures has opened his eyes somewhat. He’s going to be fun to watch as the show continues. However, he has a reputation, as we’ve seen. We don’t know exactly what the details are but several characters seem to have a low opinion of him, and we’ll find out more about that in coming episodes.

The fight in this episode is interesting in how..... not interesting it is. It kind of fools you into thinking more is happening than actually is. There’s a lot of talking and not as much action as you would expect. The Cures and Scorp or the Hoshiina will exchange a few blows and get thrown around, then one of them starts lecturing the other side about their beliefs. Sure, all Precure shows have elements of this, I can remember a few other fights that were more talk than combat, but it seems particularly egregious this episode. I do like how Scorp’s mocking has an effect on Rouge though. She’s already feeling really unaccomplished and then he goes and tells her she’s useless without her friends. It starts to weigh on her heart, but her friends quickly step in and say hey, we love Rin, she has us to support her, it’s okay if she can’t do it all by herself. As a result of this quick pep talk, she unleashes Fire Strike, her new finisher, and boy does THAT shine. It’s the first soccer-themed Precure attack in the series, and more will follow in subsequent years.

Compared to some of the other finishers, Fire Strike is more straightforward. Rouge creates a ball of fire and kicks it directly into the Hoshiina. It’s less over the top than her teammates attacks (flying into the enemy, twin whips, flying discs, or an arrow made of water) but the animators manage to punch it up a bit with some suitably dramatic effects that sell how fast, hard, and powerful this kick is. Also I have to say, the shot of Rouge bringing her leg all the way back to ready the kick is really cool.

Her leg is cocked and extends past her head. If you’ve ever tried this you know it’s hard, so even if you can make a drawing do anything, it still looks impressive, and the next shot where she’s kicked it is gorgeous. The flame walls, the way she’s lifted slightly off the ground, the way the ball is warped, all convey a sense of power and motion. Yeah, she’s just kicking it straight ahead, but you get the sense she could kick it through a brick wall.

I do have to say, on the negative side, the framing device of the episode feels a little forced. If this letter from Milk was so important, Syrup probably should have pushed it on the girls a little sooner. Maybe just dropped it off with Nozomi when he first met her in the morning. They still could have seen King Donuts awakening but they would have made moves to go straight to the Palmier Kingdom instead of doing all that work advertising and opening the shop only to have to close it again right away, and skipping Rin’s moral quandary. Since those are at the root of the episode, it might be hard to cut them, so alternatively, to keep them, the episode could have been written such that Syrup could have received the letter at the end, so he wasn’t holding onto such an important and urgent letter all episode long. It’s the little things. And on that topic, I find the third act (fourth act?) after the fight to be a little too goofy. Syrup finally hands over the letter, then they all hem and haw about how they’re going to get to Palmier Kingdom and they beg and plead Syrup to do it until he finally agrees. The only truly funny part to me is Nuts lamenting that he has to close Natts House after he just opened it.

Also there’s this ending sequence.

vimeo

This is the single worst thing I have ever made in the name of this project.

It’s overall a well-thought out episode and it smartly moves between story elements, smoothly concluding the character reintroductions and setting up the Blue Rose arc that follows. I appreciate how seemingly unconnected events flow into each other and they lead to the King seeing that the girls are legitimately good people. It’s probably the most cohesive episode of this arc, although I still think the character reintroductions peaked with Urara’s. The others have been good in different ways, but there’s a deeper bit of heartfelt emotion that episodes 2, 3, 5, and 6 just haven’t been able to match.

Next time, Milk’s emergency turns out to be largely imagined, and we meet a new villain. Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 1 kettei!

#Precure #Pretty Cure #Yes! Precure 5 Go Go!#YPC5GG06 #PCD204

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lamarkeu · 4 years ago

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Episode Summary: We finally meet Seokmin’s family, our final Superman for Return of Superman Episode 1 (Today is a New Day)

Genre: Fluff

Masterlist for SVTTROS Series

Italics: Narrators Boo Seungkwan (BS) and Lee Minhyuk (LM)

Bold: Staff

Regular: What family member says/ what the Camera films during the Show

🎶 Listen To: Take Me To You by GOT7🎶

Y/N: The Return of Superman “Today is a New Day” Part 3

BS: You might have noticed a different voice in the booth. Minhyuk, unfortunately, is at home sick so we have a guest to help finish today’s episode. Some of you may know her as the host of Stars’ Top Recipe at Fun-staurant as well as other KBS programs.

Y/N: Hello everyone, I’m Lee Y/N, nice to meet you. I hope we have a fun time watching the episode together. Let’s get started, shall we?

BS: This superman family lives in a spacious modern two-floor studio-style apartment. The big open windows bring natural light to emphasize the minimalistic design elements.

BS: Walking into the house we're immediately blown away by the neatly kept kitchen, breakfast bar, dining room table and spacious living room. The main hallway has two bedrooms.

Y/N: One is used as a storage room for clothes and other materials, while the other holds a neatly kept pink princess bed that looks brand new, a play kitchen as well as other toys.

BS: We’ve seen the majority of the house on this point but still haven’t met a single soul. Who on Earth could this superman family be?

Carefully carrying your daughter from your bathtub onto the bathroom floor of the master bathroom, she grabs a cute green spring dress sitting on the towel rack to put on herself.

Turning away for a second to grab the hairdryer and brush in the sink drawers.“Do you want to brush your hair this time?” you ask your daughter.

BS: That voice sounds oddly familiar, perhaps they’re friends of ours.

Y/N: I know right? Maybe they're outside of seventeen. I know Krystal Wang has been a popular tv host lately.

BS: That’s right. I’ve actually talked to Jackson Hyung about joining the show, and he seems interested. But I'm not 100% sure about that."

“Yes please, mommy!” Your daughter nods energetically handing her the brush. She begins brushing her hair while you turn the hairdryer on.

Once completely dried you turn it off and begin applying lotion onto her face.

You gently wipe the remainder of the lotion residue and leave a kiss on her button nose.

“Mommy, can I have another kiss?” She asks sweetly with her lips in a pout. Laughing at her expression before kissing the top of her head and finally revealing your face to the camera.

BS: Oh my gosh, Noona that’s you and Seol-hee. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were going to be on the show.

Y/N: Your favourite Hyung and I made a bet to see who’s making dinner tonight. I’m glad it worked out in my favour.

BS: This means our final dad for today’s episode is none other than Dokyeom-Hyungie!

“Can daddy also get a kiss?” you and your daughter turn to see your husband leaning against the doorway.

Seokmin struts into the room before picking your daughter up naturally into his arms.

The weight of your body shifts as you're tippy-toeing to leave a quick peck on his cheek. He jerks his head fast without thinking causing the two of you to accidentally touch lips.

Both of you are left in a blushing mess shyly looking away from each other as your daughter begins complaining about not getting any kisses from her dad.

Hello, my name is Lee Seol-hee, I am 4 years old. My mother is Y/N and my father is Lee Seokmin. Please take care of my family.” Your daughter bows respectfully to the camera.

A contented fatherly smile can be noted on your husband’s face as he watches. “I’m Lee Seol-hee’s father, musical actor and Seventeen’s main vocalist, Lee Dokyeom”

I’m her mother Lee Y/N, an experienced journalist, singer and host of varying KBS programs. Thank you for welcoming us into your family.

How did you two first meet?

“I got hired at my first journalist job and was asked to interview the EMK Company when they first put on the musical ‘Xcalibur.’ Seok was one of the final actors to be interviewed.”

Seokmin laughs thinking about how that day had planned out for him. “It was so embarrassing. I had just finished a Seventeen schedule, so I had to run from the studio straight to the theatre all sweaty and as soon as I saw her my eyes went wide in disbelief.”

“Disbelief?” You presented him a questionable look.

“Yeah, I couldn’t understand how on Earth God let one of his most beautiful angels come to and bless me with her presence.”

Quickly place your hands over your cheeks to cover the embarrassing redness from showing up on the camera. “Ah stop, you’re making me blush. There’s no way you thought that.”

“Did too,” he pouts while insisting, “that’s why I was so awkward and nervous during the interview. Even more so when I asked for your number and you said yes. Every day since then has almost been like a dream.” He receives his hand in yours caressing the back of your hand with his thumb lovingly.

When did you realize you wanted to get married?

“Oof, that’s a good question.” nodding enthusiastically before turning to your husband, “Did you want to go first?”

“Sure. I would say it was during one of our late-night pillow talks, and we started talking about the future. I had never had a relationship where we openly spoke about it.”

He stares at your eyes lovingly, his lips producing a smile as he spoke. “ With Y/N, we both discussed the idea of an apartment, kids and a dog. It was the first time someone ever reciprocated the same hopes and dreams I wanted.”

You gasp, surprised by his answer. “Are you some kind of mind reader? I was thinking the same thing.” You grasp his hand to hold before showing it off to the camera. “We really have the best teamwork.”

How did you react when Seol-Hee was born?

“Y/N and I had been trying for a baby for almost a year straight and almost gave up.” You squeeze his hand reassuringly before picking up from where he spoke.

You smile at him before speaking towards the camera. “We tried one more time, before deciding to take a break. In some twist of fate, I got pregnant.”

“The months leading up to her birth were stressful mostly because Seventeen was preparing for a comeback.” He explains, getting exhausted just by the memory of that day.

“It was during a performance Y/N had called my manager saying that her water broke.”

“When we finally got to hold her in our arms that day, it was almost as if all the worry and doubt had left my body and was replaced by the love that I had always longed to feel.” You look down at your daughter, who had managed to fall asleep on your lap during the interview.

What can the viewers look forward to with your family?

“Being in an idol group as well as musical theatre has definitely influenced my own family. There isn’t a time where either Y/N and I or even Seol-Hee aren’t singing, laughing or cracking the cheesy jokes.”

He utters a chuckle as he speaks. “We hope you enjoy the silliness of our quirky family.”

#seventeen #dad!seventeen #dad!svt #dad!seokmin #seventeen scenarios #svt ros #lamarkeu ros

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douxspider · 4 years ago

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— 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦

‘PETER PARKER x READER INSERT’

— Senior year. You’ve been friends with Peter Parker & the geeks for a long time and homecoming is nearing. Your feelings for the boy with secrets, Peter, start to overgrow your sense of mind, and somehow it managed to get worse once Peter & MJ happened.

tags: canon divergence, jealousy, pining, secret identity, friends to lovers, mild angst, implied anxiety, near death experiences, carnival, far from home's ending didn't happen word count: 7,604 published: 9/28/20 ao3 link songs inspiring this fic: heather by conan gray, peach scones by hobo johnson

— — • — —

A long shaky exhale, blown from your pursed lips, before your fingers twitched and began to play the C chord on your guitar.

“I still remember, the third of December,” your voice carried out shyly, fragile, “me in your sweater. You said it looked better on me than it did you,” pausing, “only if you knew, how much I liked you,” your eyes darted across the concrete flooring, “but I watch your eyes as she…”

Another C chord, “Walks by… what a sight for sore eyes…” Em to Am, “brighter than a blue sky…” You dared not to glance upwards, completely focused on the dark tinted guitar resting in your lap, strumming along to your voice, “She’s got you mesmerized while I die…”

Taking a moment, you began to strum against the guitar harder, “Why would you ever kiss me? I’m not even half as pretty…” Closing your eyes tightly, you sang out, “You gave her your sweater, it’s just polyester, but you like her better.”

Your Fm chord began to give out. “I wish I were Heather…”

Stopping, you leaned back, hearing the city streets below you whir. Pulling your hands through your locks of hair, you moved your thumb down your face to gently nibble at the thumbnail, before giving a defeated sigh and shaking your head.

It’s not worth it, you thought, I don’t know why I bother with this song when…

Clenching your fists, you looked down at the street all the way from your parents’ apartment, watching the cars slow to stop, and accelerate to go.

“Pretty song, lady!”

You jumped, your heart pumping as you clutched onto your guitar and fumbled with the yellow guitar pick in your hands, your hands trying to catch it. It began to head towards the edge of the railing, and you gasped before webs caught it, dangling it in front of your face.

You looked up and saw Spider-man hanging down from the patio above, his white triangular eyes wide while he yanked the guitar pick into his latex covered hands and offered it. “My bad. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Tilting your head, you took the pick, murmuring out a thanks before curiously asking, “What are you doing here, sir?”

“Mid-day patrol.” Spider-man shrugged. “Got bored. Heard your singing. Came here.”

A little flustered, you couldn’t help but to smile and shake your head playfully. “It’s not good to slack off, Spider-man. For all you know, I could’ve been a siren trying to lure you away from your duties,” you began to tease, feeling it fall natural.

Spider-man’s eyes turned wide before he inched closer to you, upside down, peering at your face closely. You felt your facade drop rather quickly, your lips pinching together.

The hero drawled, “Well… ‘ya caught me.” He gave a chuckle.

Your face was most likely redder than usual.

Suddenly, shouting commenced from the streets, and you both looked to see a group of men running from a store-owner. “Duty calls, miss siren,” you heard Spider-man thud onto the railing, on the upside, extending his arms out. Before he left, he turned to you and gave you a two-fingered salute, causing you to stand up and watch him swing to the building across and chase down the criminals into an alleyway.

You clutched onto the railing, eyes watching the red figure before sighing.

You immediately dialed up MJ, your closest friend, who also happens to be dating the boy you’ve yearned after for years.

“Spider-man just talked to me.”

“Y’know, it was kinda flirty,” You spoke as you poked the flan on your plate, MJ pouring a concoction of syrups into her coffee.

“He could also be thirty years old,” your friend suggested.

Grinning while leaning back, you started, “What’s wrong with older men?”

MJ didn’t seem amused.

“Okay, it was nothing, you’re right. He’s a flirty guy. Playful. Y’know,” you waved your hand, “I get it. I was just surprised because he heard me singing…” you admitted, “I don’t really show everyone that.”

MJ seemed curious now, her head pulling upwards, dark curls framing her face. “Singing, huh?”

“My guitar.”

“Ah.” The girl ahead of you criss-crossed her legs up onto the seat. “I’m sure he appreciated the free music. Are you coming to the sleepover tonight?”

You blinked. It completely fell on you that Peter was hosting a sleepover— you all did a monthly sleepover to commemorate the amazing friendship you all shared. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I? Missing it is like missing a funeral. Not good on the resume.”

MJ smiled. “I better see you there. You’re in charge of bringing movies.”

“Movies?! Whose idea was that? You all know my movie taste is garbage,” you immediately argued.

With a snap and point of her index finger, MJ pointed at you, “Exactly.”

Sinking into your seat and letting your fork carve its way through the soft cake-like dessert, you pulled the flan to your mouth and let the milky and creamy taste melt at your tastebuds. Your eyes peered out the window, seeing a familiar red superhero swing through the streets.

“Guess I’m bringing movies…” you murmured.

—

“Y’all, Betty asked me to homecoming.”

The three of you glanced at Ned in surprise. “For real?” Peter asked out, and his voice caught you by surprise, you fought down the urge to just look at him.

“I know! That’s insane! I thought I’d have to bring Y/N as the like… friend date… no offense,” he held out his hand to you, of which you raised your own.

“None taken. I get it. I’m happy for you— how’d this happen?”

“She texted me,” Ned said with a grin, looking at his phone with the utmost happy expression on his face. You crossed your arms and leaned on one leg.

“Well, now it’s up to you, Y/N,” Peter spoke up from beside you as MJ moved to peek over Ned’s shoulder to look at the texts.

Jumping at the sudden voiced intrusion, you looked at him. “What’s up to me?”

Peter only gave a patient smile. “You need to find a homecoming date.”

You gave a fake disinterested groan, flapping your hand in the air. “Ehh… I doubt that. I’m good going solo, y’know? Gives me time to do whatever the hell I want. No required dancing, no forced conversation, I don’t have to follow someone like a lost puppy dog…”

“Why don’t you just ask Spider-man?” MJ teased as she sat down on the couch, pulling her legs up.

You rubbed your hand on your face, exhausted. “Are you serious?”

“Wait— what about Spider-man?” Ned asked, a look of alarm on his face.

“Nothing! Nothing about Spider-man. Michelle,” you pulled out with gritted teeth as you placed your hands on your hips, “is just being Michelle.”

“Oof, that full-name reveal,” MJ said with a mock pained expression, placing a hand on her chest, “You wound me.”

“Nah, I’m curious about this Spider-man thing,” Peter spoke up while sitting next to MJ on the couch. It was nothing, really, you told yourself, but seeing the way the sides of their bodies touch nearly set you into a whole different realm of insecurity. You watched as Ned peered curiously at Peter, who only shrugged at him and looked back to you. You wondered why they looked at each other like that.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “We briefly spoke. I don’t get why it’s a big deal though— he speaks to everyone. He saves the city, talks to civilians, it’s literally what a normal guy does. I told MJ and she’s totally blowing this out of proportion.”

“You should take him to homecoming,” MJ spoke, and the entire room just about sputtered in surprise. You got why you were surprised, Ned and Peter seemed to be on a whole other level of things you didn’t understand. Guy things, probably.

“No—” you immediately refused, “No, I—”

Ned interrupted with a knowing smirk. “What’s wrong with Spider-man?”

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with him— I just—”

“You don’t like Spider-man?” Peter asked, and it almost broke your heart from the random puppy-dog eyes he gave you.

“No, it’s just I was already thinking of asking someone,” you blurted.

Oh, shit.

MJ frowned, cocking her head. “Didn’t you say you were gonna go solo?”

This is what happens when you lie to your best friends.

“I did, but that’s because… that’s because I didn’t know if he’d ever say yes, that’s all,” You explained quickly, hoping the subject would be dropped from the heavy matter.

“He?” Peter asked, “Who?”

Oh, god, Peter, don’t ask me—

The most random name popped in your head. “Brad Davis.” Shit, God, why him?

“Brad Davis?!” They all exclaimed.

“No, no, you can’t ask Brad, Y/N,” Peter cut in, “Not him.”

“It’s rather him or Flash, man,” you said with a crack in your voice.

They all groaned again. “Dude, just ask Spider-man, you’ll be better off,” MJ spoke up.

“Oh, yeah, like I can just waltz into Spider-man’s house and be like, yo bro! What’s up! I know you’re probably old and decrepit but I was wondering if you could stop your amazing heroic acts and come to a stupid homecoming dance with some jailbait?”

Ned raised his eyebrows. “Jailbait? Now, Y/N, I didn’t know you were gonna go that far for homecoming—”

“Listen.” Your interruption was quick. “I don’t want to ask Spider-man. Enough with the Spider-man talk. Literally the most random thing ever, thanks MJ for starting absolutely nothing. Anyways, I’ll ask Brad Davis, he’s...” Glancing at Peter briefly, you began to channel your feelings for your friend into Brad, “Cute, and a really nice guy. His laugh does things to my stomach, that’s how you guys know it’s real.” A few chuckles resounded around the room. “I know you guys didn’t always get along,” you gestured to Peter, “...but he’s changed. He’s sweet to me.”

That much was true. You and Brad often partnered up in AP World History, seemed like a cool guy, no longer pining after MJ. Seemed single enough.

Peter’s confused face dropped, and MJ shrugged, glancing from Peter to you. “Well, I think you guys would be cute.”

“I agree.” Peter smiled. “Y’know, I’m willing to put aside past stuff if he makes you happy, Y/N. Besides, we fought over petty boy stuff. Easily forgivable.” His arm reached the back of the couch, right behind MJ, you were hyper-aware of each interaction they had, even if it was nothing.

“Same, Y/N.” Ned was beside you, patting your shoulder. He then gave you a hug. It was so random, but you patted his back. “It’s okay to have a crush on Spider-man, though.”

You shoved him off. Everyone broke out into laughter, and you couldn’t help but to chuckle along, though your heart didn’t meet theirs. It never would.

If having a supposed crush on Brad Davis and Spider-man is what keeps me away from Peter, then it’s fine.

... you can read the rest of this chapter on ao3!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #reader insert #spider-man #homecoming #far from home #sfw #T #my writing #douxdamian #tom holland #multichap #fic #wish i were #7k

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