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rainbows-fanfics · 11 months ago

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Help Unwanted (Chapter 2)

Summary: After losing the Pirate, Deacon is unwillingly paired with a partner to help with his job. The only problem is - they can't stand each other, and time is dwindling until he can re-capture all his lost prisoners.

Human AU of the Armada from Pirate101.

Pairings: Deacon/Queen!Deacon, Deacon/OC

Despite what happened, Deacon was thrilled to be working again. He spent his entire night researching his lost fugitives, theorizing their whereabouts as a head-start to his mission. He’d make an entire schedule for the next three months if he could. He came into work that morning with a plan already sorted in his head.

He arrived at the docks and found a woman sitting on one of the crates, kicking her boots idly. The two locked eyes when he appeared and she stood to her feet right away.

She was dressed like him - a tall, black-and-golden hat on her head, along with a full-face mask and sheets clipped onto its sides to conceal her hair. She wore what looked to be his coat incorporated into a dress - buttoned together on the sides of her stomach, the ends shy of reaching her ankles. A small black cape was attached to a gear collar exactly like his, except this one only fell below her shoulders.

He eyed her hourglass figure as she approached, her small boots emphasizing her steps. She stopped to place a hand on her hip. Her green eyes looked Deacon up-and-down without a word. She drank up his appearance, as he did with hers. He took the liberty of speaking first.

"..Why do you look like me?" He sounded unimpressed, but that was far from the truth. It was a little flattering.

Her voice had a Monquistan accent. "Queen designed the getup. Said something about it complimenting you."

He raised a hidden brow. "And your name?"

She tilted her head and crossed her arms. "Tell me yours first."

He'd never been too careful with his real name. He knew what tracks he left and wiped what he wanted from his files a long time ago. Codenames were unnecessary and a nuisance most of the time. "Deacon."

"...Dea."

He snorted. "Queen came up with that one, too?"

She sounded delighted. "I did. Just now."

"Charming."

She gestured for him to follow. He picked his cane off the floorboards and trailed behind, glancing at the docked ships they passed. They were getting less impressive and smaller in size the further they went. He hoped Kane didn't downgrade his ride as further punishment.

"I heard the Erebus was an impressive vessel. Had the biggest brig in the fleet. Easy to sail, too." Dea tsked. "Pity what happened to it."

"Yeah, well." He muttered, digging through his pockets. "Nothing I can do about that now."

When he glanced up, he found Dea looking at him from the side, a playful glint to her eyes. She knew what happened and was already rubbing it in his face. He wasn't going to escape the humiliation no matter where he went, was he?

They stopped at the last ship on the dock. Thankfully, it wasn’t the smallest one - its size equal to the Erebus, though not as familiar to him. Its structure looked similar to other prison ships, which piqued his interest. The sails were not their usual black-and-golden color, remaining a white and blue instead. As he observed the craft, Dea stood to the side and motioned proudly.

“Here she is - The Executioner .”

“She was named already..?”

“It’s a newer clockwork vessel. Kane picked this one for our mission. They let me name it, so I did.” She waited before adding, “-I thought it was fitting. We’re using it to execute our mission - therefore, the ‘Executioner’ . No?”

“...Isn’t that part of the Captain’s job?”

She scoffed, turning around and jabbing a finger at his chest. He was taken aback at the forwardness, stumbling when she poked him.

“I’m your co-captain, in case you’ve forgotten. And the first rule of my command is that I get to name the ship.”

He leaned forward to meet her abrasiveness. She was several inches shorter than him, not accounting the heels on her booties. “--Then let’s call it even: I get to sail it.”

She flicked her gloved hand. “Fine.”

Truthfully, the name of the ship didn’t bother him. When captaining Armada boats, he was more concerned with where it went and how it got there. And he likely didn’t deserve the privilege, after his incident with the Erebus. But he didn’t appreciate her making decisions on his behalf. This was his mission, after all.

They were noticed by some crewmembers, who dropped a board to allow them on. Dea went first as Deacon followed behind. They were greeted by the crew, who stood in a line and saluted them. There were soldiers, marines, and even a couple of dragoons and battle angels. The spymaster noted the higher selection of fighters and wondered if this was done purposefully, due to the failure of his last battle.

“ Captains !” They shouted loudly. He’d have to get used to the plurality. He moved in front of them and rested on his cane, preparing his usual introduction.

“ Buongiorno. My name is Deacon, the Armada’s Emissary and Spymaster. I will be the captain of this vessel for the next few months. You are expected-”

“---I’m Dea, your co-captain.” The woman beside him butted in, much to his annoyance. “You are expected to follow our commands and keep this vessel in ship-shape. We will be imprisoning any undesirables and pirates we encounter. Am I clear?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“For the glory of the Armada!”

The Armada soldiers repeated the line proudly. Deacon rolled his eyes. He wasted no time getting familiar with the ship - inspecting the deck, checking the sails, and assigning jobs to the crewmembers. He made note of everything he observed and wrote down his crew’s names, in a journal he kept with him on his voyages. He counted the empty cells and determined the full capacity of their future prisoners. When all was said and done, he went to visit the Captain’s cabin, only to get stopped by his female doppelgänger.

She looked at him expectantly. “Ready to assign the crew’s duties?”

“-Already done.” He flipped the journal to her view. She leaned forward to read his handwriting.

“When did you do that ?” She went to grab it from his hands, but he pulled it away before she could.

“I’ve done this a million times. There’s no time for dilly-dallying on the first day, especially when we’re expected to sail tomorrow.”

“Yes, but–” He was already opening the door to the cabin. She stormed after him. “You’re supposed to consult me ! That’s what co-captaining means!”

He stopped in his tracks. She was steaming under her mask, gloved fists clenched in anger. He grabbed the small journal from his pocket, flipped it to the right page, and handed it to her. She took it with a huff. She focused on reading what he’d written down. Deacon took this time to properly survey the cabin, seeing as this room will be his lodging for the next few months.

There were two beds on opposite walls, one for him and the other for her, both concealed by privacy sheets. A long table sat in the back respectively for mapping and navigation, with a built-in compass and globe in the middle of the room. A bookcase was placed against the wall with provided parchment paper. He glanced at the informative titles on navigation, geography, and varied history – noting the ones he’d have to read later.

Dea finished reading, sighing as she shut the journal. She went to return it, only to find the Emissary hunched in the back of the room. He was trying to open a chest he found under the captain’s desk. She stepped forward and carelessly dropped it, drumming her small fingers on the wood. She glanced at his crouched figure from the corner of her eye.

“You must be a lone wolf - one of those men who like to take charge. Who prefer to do things by themselves. Am I right?”

He nodded vaguely, only half-paying attention as he attempted each of his keys in the lock. She stifled an irritated groan. She didn’t want to lose her patience so soon.

“We’re working together . You can’t do something and tell me about it afterwards - we need to talk through things, and–”

She was interrupted when the box sprung open. They were presented with a gorgeous view of gold and doubloons. Deacon made no hesitation to count the sum inside. Dea was too busy marveling at the sight, snapped out of her trance when he dropped more than a handful of coins into her hands. She was quiet for a second or two, until she finally looked at him, and found he was pocketing a good portion as well.

“What’s this for?”

He tilted his head strangely at her. She turned defensive at his silence. “You dumped a bunch of gold in my hands..?”

“It’s more than usual because there are two Captains now, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He resumed what he’d been doing. Dea held her palms out, no idea on what to do with what she was given. She grew agitated. “That still doesn’t answer my question!”

Deacon finally stopped his movements. He looked at her for an awfully long time. The silence grew tense and uncomfortable. She shifted her feet and blushed under her mask, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Over what - she didn’t know. He soon clicked his tongue.

“Have you ever Captained a ship before?”

She was offended, as he assumed. “What?”

“They give you a chest of gold for necessities.” He shut it for emphasis, locking it with the same key. “-Every Captain knows this.”

Her defensiveness was immediately replaced with humiliation. She discarded her share in one of her dress’ pockets, promptly looking away and clearing her throat. “-I knew that. It’s…been awhile, that’s all.”

He continued to stare at her, which did nothing to ease her discomfort. The quarters felt unbearable. She wanted out of this room as soon as possible. She turned on her heel and headed straight for the door, refusing to pass her partner a second glance.

“I’m going to check on the crew.”

He watched her leave in a hurry, slamming the door behind her. He stood to his full height and grabbed his journal from the desk. His eyes traveled back to where she once stood, replaying Dea's confusion in his head. They drifted back to the door and he hummed inquisitively to himself.

He suddenly wanted to know more about his 'co-captain'.

#pirate101 #p101 #pirate101 deacon #queen!deacon #help unwanted #fanfiction #fanfic

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 3 years ago

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Irresistible Danger - Part 60

Synopsis: After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,229

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Author’s Note: We’re back! Omg y’all...I finally have a path to the ending for this fic! After this chapter, I’m planning for there to be 5 more chapters until the end, which will give ID a total of 65 chapters. I’m still working on writing and editing these last chapters, but I’m pretty confident in that timeline :D I also plan to post each Friday again, so there should be chapters now through September 10th, if all goes according to plan.

PDA

You woke with a smile the next morning, partially because of the happiness filling your chest like a balloon. The other part was because the warm body behind you, accompanied by a rasp of beard on your shoulder and soft lips on your neck, signalled that you weren’t alone.

The florid orange rays coming in the large windows told you that it was still early, the sun barely risen above the horizon. Turning over onto your other side to face Negan, you took in his tousled hair and heavy-lidded gaze.

“Mornin’ doll,” he said, voice raspy with sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his irresistible mouth. “No crack-of-dawn meetings today?”

His lips quirked against yours. “Nope, thank fuck,” he murmured, before rolling atop you and spending a good portion of the morning taking you apart with pleasure, then putting you back together piece by piece with cuddles and toe-curling kisses.

When he later glanced over at the clock and saw that it was almost 10am, he gave a groan and flopped onto his back with a forearm covering his eyes. “Much as I’d love to stay here all day, I gotta go with a couple Saviors to check out one of the nearby outposts. They reported some concerns about their fucking security measures, and also requested a few more men be stationed out there to help divvy up their shifts, so I wanna go see if there’s any fucking issues for myself.”

While you felt a tiny thrill that he was so willing to tell you this information, to let you know about his duties as leader, you also had a moment of worry about him possibly assigning more men out to work the outpost. “Is that the one you brought Simon in from a couple weeks ago?”

Knowing exactly where your thoughts were headed, he said, “Don’t get your fucking panties in a bunch, doll. If the outpost needs more hands, I was planning to send a couple of my newer Saviors.”

Pleased at this response, you smiled and leaned in close so your mouth was hovering mere millimeters from his, before whispering, “I’m not wearing any panties to get in a bunch.”

Before he could react, you rolled out of the bed and strode to the bathroom, putting a little extra swing to your hips. The growl and unmistakable rustling sound of sheets being thrown off was your only warning before Negan scooped you up into his arms and marched into the bathroom.

An hour later and you were both sufficiently clean (after first getting extra dirty against the shower wall), and you saw Negan off from his rooms with a kiss and warning to be careful. He gave an arrogant smirk at that, which got him an eye roll and playful shake of your head as a response.

You watched as he strode down the hall towards the staircase, shoulders encased in leather and his whistle echoing off the walls. While they’d never dare ask him about it, you couldn’t help but give a little smile at the thought of his men wondering why the hell their usually punctual leader was almost ten minutes late to leave for the outpost...and why he seemed so happy about it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Unable to contain your excitement over the events of the night before, you headed over to Ben’s room not long after Negan left. Thankfully he was there, having just returned from finishing up serving breakfast. His roommate was out this time, so you were able to huddle across from one another on his bottom bunk and catch him up on your conversation with Negan.

Ben listened intently, mouth slowly falling further and further open as you went on. When you got to the part about Negan admitting he wanted only you, and called you his partner, Ben let out a whoop of joy and threw his arms around you in a hug.

“I knew it!” he exclaimed. “That big lug is head over heels for you.”��

The two of you chatted happily for a bit, before you left and wandered back down to your own room. It had felt like forever since you had a chunk of time to just relax in your bed without over analyzing or stressing over something Negan-related. Gone was the weight of that padlocked box of questions, which made both your brain and subconscious very happy. The three of you snuggled up on the bed and spent the next couple of hours finishing your re-read of Harry Potter before it was time to head down to the kitchen for dinner prep.

Today’s menu consisted of lasagna using leftover deer meat thawed from the freezer, with the signature side of rolls. Trixie had unofficially promoted herself as being in charge of roll duty, making sure the dough was the right consistency and the ovens at the perfect baking temperature. She wasn’t rude about it, but the little bit of authority she showed when instructing another staff member how to properly knead the dough seemed to fulfill her need to be seen as a knowledgeable and important part of the staff. And in all honesty, none of her feedback to the others was incorrect, so rather than reprimand her or say she was out of line, you had caught her eye at one point and given an almost imperceptible nod of approval. This caused her smile to beam so bright that it was a wonder you didn’t need sunglasses.

As it turned out, you weren’t the only one who had noticed Trixie’s presence and been keeping a stealthy eye on her. Andrew, a member of the food prep crew, had been not-so-subtly following Trixie with his gaze lately, and today was no exception. He was an attractive man in his early 20s with shoulder-length black hair and kind brown eyes, a much more appropriate candidate for Trixie than her previous choice.

It seemed safe to say that Trixie was aware of the attention as well, as she found every reason possible to flounce past where Andrew was busy loading trays of lasagna into an oven. At one point, she even stopped to chat briefly with him, and out of the corner of your eye you saw her toss back her head and laugh at something he said. If it seemed a bit overly dramatic to you, well, Andrew didn’t seem to mind. In fact, her reaction caused him to fumble with the tray of pasta he was holding, almost spilling the entire thing onto the ground. He thankfully saved it at the last second, otherwise you would’ve had to interrupt and lecture the two of them about focusing on their work and not chit-chatting. And you didn’t want to do that, not when Trixie finally seemed interested in a guy more her age who was actually available and seemed to genuinely like her.

Despite your initial tension with Trixie, you now realized that she had just been struggling to find where she fit in, to feel like an important part of the community. She’d initially been scooped up and led astray by Amber, but thankfully she had found her way back on the correct path and was making progress at getting along with the others, rather than isolating herself and using condescension as an emotional wall. Someone like Andrew, who was kind-hearted and considerate, not to mention absolutely captivated by her, was exactly what she needed.

Focusing your attention away from young romance and back to meal prep, you spent the next forty-five minutes making sure everything was baked to perfection before sending out the first trays of lasagna and rolls. However, your mind kept randomly returning to Negan, almost unable to contain a secret smile each time you remembered where the two of you now stood. The usual worry and second-guessing had been replaced by the stability of knowing how he felt, and each time you remembered his words from last night a flutter of butterflies went off in your stomach.

Negan had told you this morning that the outpost he and a small team of men were going to was less than an hour’s drive from the Sanctuary, so he planned to be back around dinnertime. Sure enough, about 20 minutes into when the first round of food was being served, you saw a small group of Saviors enter the cafeteria and settle down at a table. You guessed that they were the ones who had been out on the mini mission, and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing them back safely and with jovial expressions on their faces. You could always tell when things went wrong on a run, due to the overall aura of the men who returned, but this time they were smiling and talking animatedly with one another. Hopefully this also meant that Negan was in a happy, and perhaps affectionate, mood when you went to visit him later...

It was as if your thoughts had conjured the man himself. You were out in the cafeteria with a large water pitcher, making rounds to refill empty glasses for people, when a hush in conversation made you still and look up.

And there he was, standing at the entrance to the cafeteria with his signature leather jacket unzipped just enough so that the edge of a white tee peeked out over the top. He scanned over the tables like a king surveying his domain, looking both intimidating and absolutely delicious with the arrogant way he held himself, as if he had no cares in the world but was also ready to take on anything.

When his eyes landed on you, those sinful lips quirked upwards at the edges, and you swore that even from the distance of half a cafeteria you could see his golden gaze light up at the sight of you. He moved, striding with determination and purpose to close the space between your bodies. The breath caught in your chest at his beauty, at the raw masculinity and almost animal magnetism that surrounded him.

He stopped mere inches away, and you gazed up at him in both welcome and a bit of confusion. Trying to act calm and unaffected, and not show how much you wanted to grin and launch yourself at him, you said, “Welcome back.”

Your eyebrow cocked in question when he shook his head with a low chuckle. “Oh no, doll, that won’t do at all.” And with that, he wrapped an arm around your waist and lowered his head...

And kissed you in front of the entire Sanctuary.

A wave of shock jolted through you, at the same time as your body automatically responded, molding itself to his. Your brain was flatlined on the floor from the unexpected move, while your subconscious ran around it in circles screaming with excitement.

You could practically feel all the astonished stares from community members, as they watched their all-powerful leader break one of his cardinal rules and kiss you to within an inch of your life. And dear god, what a kiss it was! His lips were firm yet gentle, his tongue just barely tracing your bottom lip, as if he couldn’t help but steal a little taste. He wasn’t holding back, and the primal part of you recognized that he was publicly staking his claim for all to see. There could be no question after this moment that you were his, and that he wanted everyone to know it.

When he finally pulled back, you could only look up at him with what must’ve been an utterly dazed expression, if his pleased smirk was anything to go by. Glancing to his left and then right, his brow furrowed and expression turned serious as he bellowed, “What the fuck are you all looking at?”

His words had the desired effect, as eyes dropped back to their plates and the community stuttered back to action, obviously trying and failing to act like something monumental didn’t just happen. You’d have given a lot of points to know what they were all thinking, but you didn’t see any angry expressionsand no one had said anything or acted out of line, so hopefully that was a good sign.

Negan’s warm hand rubbed comfortingly up your bare arm, and it was then that you noticed he didn’t have his gloves on. That also sparked the realization that he wasn’t carrying Lucille, which was strange since he always had her on his person when making an appearance in front of the community.

Now that you’re thinking about it, did he even have her this morning, when he left?

You thought back to when you had kissed him goodbye and watched as he walked down the hallway. Surely he’d have taken her with him to the outpost...but you honestly couldn’t remember seeing her up over his shoulder. You had to just be forgetting, because there was no way he’d leave her behind.

That train of thought was brought to a halt when the hand on your arm trailed down along your waist and settled possessively on your hip. “I wanted to put in a request for one of your staff members to bring two servings of dinner to my room, for Simon and yours truly.”

Before you could ask if he needed time alone once you were done with dinner, he provided the answer. “We need to go over the fucking outpost inspection results, but I’ll come and find you once it’s done.” It was the second time he’d done that today, answering a question before you had the chance to voice it out loud, which was a sign of how well he was coming to predict your thought process.

You were still a bit in shock at all of this, especially how he was discussing his evening plan with you so publicly and audibly, as if to show that you were more than just his in a physical sense. He was broadcasting to the community that you were what he had already told you last night: his partner. His voice had been low enough that only the nearby tables would’ve heard, but you knew every moment of this interaction would be spread across the entire community within minutes after he left.

Giving a smile and trying to look like ‘yep, this is completely normal, no big deal, I am totally not internally screaming with joy and wanting to climb his fine ass like a tree’, you replied, “Of course. I’ll have it sent up immediately.”

“Thanks, doll,” he said with a final smirk. Then his face morphed back into the intense, badass expression of the Sanctuary’s leader, and he strode out of the cafeteria.

You were left standing there, still a bit shell-shocked by what had just occurred, but also giddy as hell over it. That emotional high was only slightly dimmed by the awareness that now, with Negan gone, you were the sole center of everyone’s attention. A quick scan of the cafeteria showed that most community members were trying not to openly stare. However, the lack of chewing and frequent side glances thrown your way as your legs finally unfroze and started back towards the kitchen were proof that they had all seen Negan’s display of affection.

While the rest of the community might’ve at least been making a feeble attempt not to obviously stare, the same couldn’t be said of the kitchen staff. At least a couple of them must’ve witnessed what happened when serving trays of food, and those members must’ve scurried back to the kitchen to report it to the others. Every single one of them was staring in wide-eyed silence with a mixture of shock and fascinated curiosity when you walked back through the swinging doors.

Even though your face felt heated and you were a bit off-kilter, you still managed to sound slightly firm when announcing, “Alright folks, back to work. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief when they didn’t argue, but a couple of them did give knowing grins, Trixie included, though at least they all seemed good-natured about it. Trying to act as though your world hadn’t just been spun off its axis with that public kiss, you went over to Ben, who was the only one that had stayed fairly composed the entire time. In fact, his eyes danced with mirth and he was obviously trying to hold back a smirk, so you felt only minimally evil when telling him of Negan’s request that two servings of dinner be taken up to his rooms for him and Simon. Ben gave a playful glare when you told him to take up the food himself, saying it loud enough that some others heard, making him unable to say no without looking a bit suspect.

When the tray was ready to go a few minutes later, you quietly murmured to Ben as he passed by on his way out of the kitchen, “Say hi to Simon for me.” The words caused a hint of pink to flare in his cheeks as he gave a halfhearted glare. You almost felt guilty for teasing him, but knew Ben would more than forgive you when Negan came through on his promise to get Simon his own room.

Though the kitchen staff still threw glances your way here and there, they quickly fell back into their usual routine and no one made any direct comments. You were safe from scrutiny...at least for now. At least no one seemed to have any extreme concerns about what had happened, making you wonder how many of them had suspected what was going on between you and Negan before now.

Once dinner and cleanup were over, you headed back up to your room. Negan had said he would come find you when he was ready, so you planned to just lay back and relax until then.

Oh, who were you kidding. After that kiss, you were totally going to sit on your bed and think about all the dirty things you wanted to do to him the moment the two of you were alone.

Trying to convince yourself that you could be at least semi-productive and pretend to have a hobby other than fantasizing about the leader of the Sanctuary, you pulled the copy of Harry Potter off your bedside table. You were just opening to the first page, planning to restart it again from the beginning, when a firm knock sounded at your door.

Pulse jumping with excitement, you rose from the bed and didn’t even hesitate to cross the room and reach for the doorknob. It never occurred to you that it might be anyone other than Negan, let alone for it to be the last person you’d have ever expected to see at your door. But things had been going so well today that it was almost as if fate was bored with your happiness and wanted to add some drama to the mix.

Totally ignoring the warning prickle that ran up your spine, you opened the door with a welcome smile. It quickly died on your lips at the sight of who was standing on the other side, hands on hips and eyes throwing daggers your way.

It was Amber...and she looked pissed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#negan #ash writes #negan's thirst squad #irresistible danger #negan fanfiction #negan fanfic #negan x you #negan x oc #negan x reader #fanfiction #fanfics #twd #the walking dead #jdm #jeffrey dean morgan #twd negan #negan slow burn

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fatiguing-thoughts · 4 years ago

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“Fate” - Paul Lahote

Request: The reader (shy!fem!reader) meets Paul (twilight) in the woods while he is in wolf form and he imprints on her. Coz the reader is shy and has no friends (lol) she befriends the 'wolf'. So when they have been friends for a while Paul finally transforms into his human form and explains everything and then fluff? Thank you 😊❤️

The crunching of leaves. That’s all I can hear now. I continued walking forward, loving the noise and the smell of the pine trees around me.

This was my daily routine now, for the last week. The woods were always my safe place, where I went to clear my head. It’s where I always spent my free time, my time for my personal thoughts.

I had just moved to Forks about three week ago, I came from Oregon. I wanted to be closer to the Olympic National Forest, and for some reason, it just called to me. It called to be my new home.

I spent the first couple of weeks unpacking and settling, but the newfound freedom and time to explore the great forests around my small town were beyond enticing.

The loneliness was setting in, pushing me to go into the woods more and more. Even though I was still lonely out here, it was much better than being alone in the house. I missed my family and friends, but living here was something that just felt like I was doing something… right.

The loneliness out here wasn’t as deafening than in my small home. I felt better surrounded by trees, listening to the sounds of nature, or the lack of normal everyday sound; it was music to my ears.

As I pressed forward, I found the new clearing I chose the other day. This one a little bigger than the last, more calming to me.

I put my blanket down, played some soothing music; a beautiful composition. I took out my sketchbook, drawing my surroundings.

That’s when I heard the grass shift across the clearing. The leaves crunching, a shift in the atmosphere. The feeling washed over me, I was no longer alone.

I felt my breath hitch as I tore my eyes away from the sketchbook, looking across the clearing.

I saw a wolf. An enormous wolf. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’ve seen wolves, and they’re not anywhere near the size of this. I wouldn’t even come up to the shoulder on this one, it had to be about 6 feet tall on all fours. This couldn’t be real.

I blink hard, but when I open my eyes, it doesn’t go away, my sight was not deceiving me.

That’s when it happened, our eyes connected. I couldn’t break the eye contact, neither did the massive creature.

The wind got knocked out of me, I felt something in me shift. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but it wasn’t fear.

No, fear was the last thing from my mind. What I felt was peace. I couldn’t imagine why I felt so at peace with a creature that could kill me faster than I could blink, but it’s all I felt.

I broke the eye contact away, hoping that I didn’t make the situation worse and frighten the wolf.

It walks a bit closer, head low. I still feel that feeling, the feeling of someone sitting on my chest-- but in the best way.

“Jesus.” I mutter as it moves closer.

The paws were easily the size of my head, thumping along the path to me. I felt the ground move as it got closer.

A look of curiosity and caution painted the enormous face, eyes never tearing from mine.

“Holy shit.” I mutter again.

It stops in its tracks, about five feet from me, looking at me as if it was asking for permission to approach closer.

I gulp and swallow the lump in my throat. The sense of peace and calm is still radiating through my body. I stood up from my spot, feeling as if it was the best thing to do at this moment.

The wolf nods its head towards me, in which I nod back.

It walks closer before bowing its head, eyes still looking into mine. I see my reflection in the iris. Its eyes were that of a beautiful chocolate brown. I admire the rest of the wolf up close, noticing all of the different grey and silver tones in its beautiful fur. I cautiously reach my hand out, knuckles out, offering it to smell me before I even thought about petting it.

As I outstretch my hand, I feel the enormous head under my palm. I begin to graze my fingertips along the top of its head, daring to dance my fingertips upon the center top of its snout.

Its ears laid back against the massive head, leaning more weight into my touch. The fur was so soft, I found myself growing more and more comfortable with the presence of this being. I was way too close now, I lost all sense of caution.

I smiled at the wolf as I returned the eye contact. It moved even closer, standing against my side. I laid my head upon the side of where its shoulder began. I never felt so small before. I felt a little grumble come from the wolf’s chest before it backed up, and laid down next to my blanket. I plopped myself back down.

I caught the wolf’s eyes wandering over to my drawing of the clearing.

“You like art or something?” I chuckled softly, knowing how silly it may seem to be talking to this wolf, though deep down I felt we had some kind of understanding.

The wolf nodded, before placing its head on my leg. The head was heavier than I imagined, but I enjoyed it. It was a soothing weight. The nod must have been coincidental, I tell myself.

I then begin to scratch behind its ears, and laying the rest of my body down, head still on the front of my thigh.

“This is the best, well only, company I’ve had in a month.” I smile to myself, once again trying to converse with the creature.

I heard a large huff of air and felt the warmth on my thigh grow, the breath passing through my jeans.

I check the time on my phone, seeing that it was later than I thought. The wolf and I sat here for hours, though they passed quickly.

“I should leave now, sunset is approaching. I gotta get out of here before dark. After all, who knows what’s in here.” I chuckle as I begin to sit up, getting my things together into my backpack.

The wolf looks at me, puffs again, and almost seems to roll its eyes. I could’ve sworn it looked just like it did.

As I begin walking, I notice the wolf walking beside me.

“Ah, walking me to my car? A gentleman, I see.” I laugh softly to myself.

As we approach the end of the forest, the beginning of the treeline and my parked car in sight, the wolf looks down at me.

I return the eye contact, and scratch behind the ear again, earning the leaning of the massive head into my hand.

“This is an everyday thing for me. Same place tomorrow.” I say laughing at how ridiculous I sound.

I earn another nod from the wolf and can’t help but feel that it truly understands what I’m saying.

I walk over to my car, the distance between the wolf and I growing. I felt empty as the space grew, a newer feeling. I walked over to my car and looked back to see the wolf standing where I left it.

I wave goodbye, earning a nod from the massive being. I get into my car and watch it run away, faster than I’ve seen anything move.

The drive home was quick, as it mostly consisted of replaying the days events.

I knew for certain that I was either insane or blessed.

Sleeping tonight came easier than ever before. No nightmares, though the eyes of the beautiful creature filled my dreams that night.

I woke up the next morning feeling at ease, but also if something was missing. I was almost counting down the minutes until I got to go back to my little clearing. Hopefully doing some work will make the day pass faster.

I ferociously finish my work for the day, hoping that it would make time pass. Though my mind continuously wanders back to yesterday.

Was it even real?

What if the creature didn’t show up today? Would I just have imagined the understanding that I thought we had? Was the connection just an imagination?

No, I know what I saw. I am not insane, I am not making any of this up.

As the agonizing hours passed, I sat and drew. I found myself drawing the eyes of the creature. They were all I could see all day.

I look over at the clock and basically spring off of my couch, grabbing my keys and backpack to head back out to the woods.

I walk over into the clearing and sit in my previous spot on the blanket. This time I had some snacks with me, as I didn’t eat today from being so distracted.

I began to peel my orange when I heard the snapping of a branch behind me. I took a sip of my water as I turned to look at what was behind me.

The deep, chestnut brown eyes looking down at me. I felt such a connection to this wolf, I felt safe.

It then moves next to where I sat, laying down once more.

I place my orange down back onto the brown paper bag.

“Blueberries?” I outstretch my hand with a few berries in it, offering it to the creature.

His snout found my hand, hot breath finding its way into my palm. The rough tongue and soft scraping of teeth against my palm as it took the berries from my hand.

I smile before getting some more, offering again. The wolf once again took the food from my hand.

I truly enjoyed the company, though it did confuse me more than anything. I couldn’t describe the connection I felt to this magical being, but it was there.

I began to make some small talk to the wolf, though I know I would not get a response.

“You’re my first and only friend, bud. I moved here a little less than a month ago. Still unsure of what brought me here, but I think things are starting to add up. I just miss having people around, ya know?” I look over to the creature, noticing that their eyes never left my face.

The wolf nods, putting his head back into my leg and nuzzling into me. I scratch behind their ears.

“Anyway, I left Oregon to come here. I miss my friends and family, but I think I’ll be happier here. So far, I’m loving the new scenery. I used to spend a lot of time in the woods back there, it’s where I have my personal thoughts, where I unwind. Now that I’m here, I already have a buddy so soon. I always did it alone, but here you are. Even though you can’t talk, I enjoy your company.” I spoke softly to the being.

Its eyes never broke from mine, just like always.

“Your eyes are magnificent.” I softly chuckled.

The wolf nuzzles closer to me, and I lay down on my blanket.

This is how I spent my days now. This continued for weeks. Getting closer to this beautiful creature, befriending the most beautiful being that ever existed on the planet.

Until one day, when I showed up to the clearing at the usual time. My new friend nowhere in sight.

I sat down in our usual spot, waiting for the arrival of the creature.

I waited for about ten minutes before I finally heard the relieving crunching of twigs and leaves behind me.

“It’s about time you showed up, I got worried.” I bit back my smile.

The wolf had a telling look in its eyes today, almost nervous.

I scratched behind the large ear, once again being leaned into. I grew to really love this.

As soon as I sat down, I noticed the wolf didn’t follow suit as per usual.

It looked me in the eyes, nodding its head to the treeline. My eyes followed as the wolf walked behind the brush.

I stood up, but didn’t follow the being out of the clearing. I watched from the treeline as it disappeared just out of view.

Then I heard it.

The shifting of bones. The brush disturbed from movement.

I back up cautiously.

A moment later, a tall, muscular man walks out of the tree line.

I back up a bit out of surprise. I observed him in his entirety. His cutoff jean shorts, t-shirt, and beat up old shoes. Beautiful russet skin, cropped black hair, and... deep chestnut brown eyes.

Those eyes. The ones that engulfed me into a state of peace with every look. I would recognize those eyes in a sea of people.

The tall man smiles at me, walking closer.

I don’t back up this time, confused yet comforted by the look in his eyes. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen, I was drawn to him.

“(Y/N), it’s me.” The man says.

“How do you know my name?” I question.

“Well, you told me a few weeks ago. Well, my other form.” He chuckles.

“Okay, maybe I am nuts.” I laugh softly.

“No, you’re not. Well, after listening to you for weeks, you might be. But, I have a lot of explaining to do. I’m Paul by the way.” He chuckles.

“Hi Paul.”

We walk over to my blanket and he sits with me.

“So, I guess I’ll explain to you what I am.” He says, slightly smirking at me.

“I think you should, I’m very confused right now.” I smile back.

“Well, I’m what you would call a shapeshifter. I shift into a wolf. You met me in that form.” His chestnut brown eyes peering into my soul, pleading for my attention.

“But how? Why?” I manage to speak.

“Well, we’re not the only magical beings. But it’s a Quileute legend, well clearly a lot more than a legend… I’m a protector of the land and people. But these are tribal secrets.” He says, still never breaking eye contact.

“Protector? From what?” I was now concerned.

“Well, vampires.” He answered, laughing at how crazy it sounds to say out loud, to explain to an outsider.

“Vampires are real? And they’re here?” I ask, slightly getting fearful.

“Yes. There’s been some coming into the area for some, not for anything good. There’s a coven here, though they’re what you call ‘good ones,’ only feeding off animals instead of humans.” He explains.

“Wow, this is insane. But, how did you find me?”

“Well, one of the other members of the pack picked up your scent, as well as one of the vampires we were looking for. So we took turns watching to make sure they didn’t hunt you. Which by the way, you should not be spending so much time in the woods alone. Have you ever heard of bears? Or murderers? Have you learned anything from horror movies?” He laughed.

“Yes. I have. But it’s just, it’s what feels right for me.” I admitted.

“I understand. You seem like one with nature.” He laughs.

“So you guys protected me?” I jump back a step.

“Yeah, well we took turns while the others went other places.”

“Oh, so why did you stay for weeks? And why did you hang out with me?” “Well, when it was my turn, something happened. And then I couldn’t leave you. I needed to be the one who watched over you. I wanted to get to know you, I wanted to meet you. We connected.”

“I know, I felt that. I feel like I’ve known you for ages. But what happened? How are we connected? Why do I get to know the tribal secrets?” I asked, I needed to understand.

“Well, you’ve taken this so well. So there’s this thing. It’s called imprinting.” He finally looks down at his hands.

“Imprinting?” I question.

He looks back into my eyes.

“Well, it’s kinda like soulmates. Like love at first sight, almost. Although, it doesn’t have to be romantic. It’s kind of like-- when it happens, whoever a wolf imprints on, becomes the world. There is no gravity, it’s them holding you down to the Earth. You would do anything, be anything for them. A brother, a protector, a lover. It’s super intense, but it happens to some of us. And well, you’re my imprint.”

I looked at him and nodded. I was trying to take this all in, it all made sense as to why I felt so strongly connected. Why I felt so at peace, why I loved being so close.

“Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in. I understand. But just know that it is dangerous for us to be apart. It’ll hurt us both-- emotionally, physically, mentally. However, you hold the reins here.” He gave me a soft smile.

“This is a lot. You’re right. But, I feel so connected to you. I wanna be around you, I love being around you. I’m so glad you’re actually a real person. However, I do want to take this slow. I want to get to know you as a person, not just the wolf. I want to meet the real you. I want to expand the friendship before any kind of romantic relationship blossoms too fast.” I say honestly.

“That sounds like a great idea. Maybe you can come to the bonfire at La Push tonight. I think it’ll help you understand more. Plus then you’ll meet the rest of the pack. We could work on the friends thing, too.” He smiles from ear to ear, probably excited at the mention of a romantic relationship.

We talked for hours, more about us personally than the imprinting thing, wolf thing, or vampire thing-- we saved that for the bonfire.

The bonfire went well. I met the whole pack. A lot of banter and rough housing between the guys, especially when the imprint jokes came around.

I took a liking to Leah, though she was rough on the outside I felt that we would be great friends.

Over the next few weeks, Paul and I spent almost all our free time together. Things were great. Of course the friends thing didn’t last too long, how could I not want to have this amazing man as my partner? He was caring, sweet, protective, and even handsomer than anyone else I had ever seen. Our relationship was one purer than anything I could’ve ever imagined.

Getting closer to the pack was great, I always had friends around. I loved Emily and helping her cook for the bottomless pit-stomached boys. It was like I was meant to be around, I guess that’s fate for you.

Most of all, I cherished every moment I had with Paul. Stealing hoodies and having more fun than I’ve ever had before.

I loved Paul Lahote more than I could put into words. No words were needed.

This was happiness, this was pure bliss.

We spent our days on hikes, fooling around and rough housing at the beach, and doing whatever we could do together.

He whispered sweet-nothings into my ear at any given chance, causing me to smile, blushing like a maniac. His warm hugs and cuddles, sleeping next to him only brought me peaceful sleep I desired my entire life.

Fate truly is something.

_____________________________

Word Count: 3280

Yes this was long. No I’m not sorry. Yes I enjoyed it. Might have been a swift transition, but it’s super long and idc. Thank you for coming folks

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #twilight #twilight x reader #sam uley #jacob black #jared cameron #Quil Ateara #seth clearwater #leah clearwater #brady fuller #collin littlesea #embry call #wolf pack x reader #writing

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wondernimbus · 5 years ago

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play pretend — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

prompt: in which two people are forced into marriage; reader falls in love. draco doesn’t.

a/n: hi listen to the song dusk til dawn if you wanna get into ur feelings while reading this .. anyways enjoy!!!

No matter how much Draco tried to deny it, part of her had always known that unwanted feelings lingered. Feelings from the past that should have been left there but weren’t—feelings that shone through during the most intimate moments; underneath bed covers, when Astoria’s name would slip past his lips instead of hers, or afternoons spent out by the garden when she would catch his eye and find him looking at her in a way that made it so painfully obvious that he was trying to find something in her that he could love.

The first time his and [Y/N]’s families had ever met, Narcissa Malfoy had pulled her away from the dining table to tell her in a voice of caution about a girl named Astoria Greengrass; the very same one Draco had fallen in love with during his time at Hogwarts. The girl came from a wealthy family, but one that was not wealthy enough—her blood was pure but her name not as well-respected as that of the Malfoys’ (word had leaked of an early ancestor having married a Muggle). Simply put, she was, though close to it, not good enough for Draco. The history of her family line and her insufficient wealth just couldn’t make the cut; Astoria Greengrass wasn’t good enough to wed into the Malfoy family—regardless of how much Draco claimed to have felt for her.

And so Astoria and Draco’s story ended with tragedy; with separation and arranged marriages to anyone but each other. Astoria wedded a man of her status; someone who could afford to marry her, and Draco to [Y/N], who had never known love until she met him—the very person who couldn't feel the same for her.

She'd wedded Draco fully aware that mutual feelings of affection were the last of any of their families' concerns. As long as no Muggle blood besmirched each others' family trees and the purity of blood was carried on further into newer generations, petty things like love hardly mattered.

Except somewhere along their forced time together in a lonely manor by the countryside—a dowry from her family to the Malfoys—[Y/N] began to look at Draco as less of the man who had been forced into marriage with her and more of a man she could learn to love. And so she did; she learned and loved and found a comfort in him that she had never been expecting to. It took time, yes, but once she took that courageous step and the floor gave out underneath her feet and she fell for Draco faster than she could even blink, she couldn't stop.

Because once you start to love someone, you are done for. You won't be able to pull yourself back out.

Maybe that's why Draco can't forget that one Astoria Greengrass. Maybe that's why he can't quite look at [Y/N] the way she wants him to. Maybe it's why, when [Y/N] foolishly tells him "I love you" in hopes that maybe this time he'll say it back, he doesn't.

[Y/N] wants to be angry. She wants to be able to grasp Draco’s shoulders, shake him to his senses and scream at him to forget Astoria, you can never have each other but you have me and I love you and I want you to be able to say the same for me so please just let go of her. But to set her pride aside and ask something like that of him takes plenty of courage—courage that [Y/N] isn’t entirely sure she has.

So she sits and pretends like everything is fine. Tells herself that the man she loves loves her back when she knows he doesn’t. And he knows it too.

Playing pretend—she’s gotten quite good at it over time.

—

When Draco holds her at midnight and presses himself close to her, it's like he's trying to imprint himself onto her very skin, trying to ingrain part of himself onto every inch of her body he can reach. And in a way, he does, in patches of faint red and purple and dark blues that mark her skin wherever his lips go.

They almost never talk at night. They're much too busy wrapped up in each other's arms and legs to bother with words. [Y/N] threads her fingers through his hair and pulls him in and Draco kisses her so hard it's like he's trying to make up for everything that he can't give her; kisses with passion that isn't quite driven by love but rather desperation for something—someone—he can't quite have.

And it hurts because [Y/N] knows that when Draco groans into her mouth and tightens his grip on her waist and glides his lips down her skin, it's not her face in his head. And it's not her name that leaves his lips, either, when the night progresses and they are drunk in one another's touch.

But [Y/N] is okay with it—or so she tells herself.

She has Draco. She's happy. She loves him, even though he doesn't. She is happy.

She has to be.

—

Jealousy.

That's what [Y/N] feels.

[Y/N] has never met Astoria Greengrass but she is pathetically jealous of her. She is jealous of everything about Astoria that Draco fell in love with, whatever that might be. And it's ridiculous because she doesn't even know what she looks like or how she is; all that [Y/N] knows about her is that she must truly be something else to have captured Draco Malfoy's heart and to still have it in her hands after all of this time.

An arranged marriage and a year forced apart—you'd think that that would be enough for Draco to move on.

They've been together for a while. Draco still looks at her like he's not really seeing her. He doesn't love her, and [Y/N] isn't exactly sure he ever will. Every day she wakes and hopes that by some miracle he has opened his eyes and has begun to finally see past the future she knows he still fantasizes about with Astoria, but that is yet to happen. For now [Y/N] is helplessly in love with a man who has his heart set on someone else.

And at some point she has become angry, but not at Draco nor the woman he loves—no, she is angry at herself. She catches sight of herself in the mirror and hates what is staring back at her. She goes up to her reflection and frowns and contemplates what it is she's missing. If the sight of her own face is revolting to herself, then it is no doubt that others feel the same way—including Draco—and is that why he can't love her? Because of how ugly she is? Or is it how she acts? How she speaks, how she laughs, how she smiles, how she is?

Whenever Draco disappears to "clear his head" and [Y/N] is left alone, she finds that the manor is too small to hold the vast amount of nothingness spilling out of her at the seams, so she goes out into the highest balcony that overlooks the sea and breathes in as much of the salty breeze as she can until the feeling in her chest doesn't quite feel as suffocating anymore.

It's not the marriage she'd been hoping for all of those years ago when she was a naive child who believed in fairy tales and happy endings. But at the very least, she loves. And she is grateful to Draco for allowing her to know what that feels like, even when he can't quite give it back to her.

—

But hearts are made of soft things, tissue and blood and muscle. Things that break and wound easy. Things that tend to scar instead of heal. There is only so much you can do until a human reaches breaking point and their heart gives away, and [Y/N] finds herself one Thursday evening with blood dripping down her knuckles and shards of glass scattered on the floor.

"What happened?" Draco's voice is soft, imploring, almost loving but not quite. It's always almost. Almost what [Y/N] wants. Almost how a husband should love his wife. Almost.

"Tripped," [Y/N] winces. Draco kneels down in front of her from where she's sitting on the toilet, hands gently caressing her own to inspect her blood-smattered knuckles. It's a terrible excuse; how do you trip and punch a mirror?

But Draco doesn't question it, and [Y/N] doesn't have to tell him that she'd looked into the mirror and despised what she saw so much that she'd been overcome by an irrational anger and began to beat her fists against her own reflection until the glass splintered and the skin of her wrists did so along with it.

Draco tells her to wait, so she does, sitting in the cold bathroom by herself with blood dripping down her knuckles onto the floor until Draco comes back with a cloth in one hand and a pouch of healing ointments in the other. Once he's cleaned up the mess on the floor, he kneels in front of her again and, quietly, gently, he begins to wipe the blood from her hands.

"Does it hurt?" Draco murmurs. His brows are drawn in the middle in a slight frown as he tries his hardest not to press too hard. He pauses and looks up at her, and his eyes are gentle, almost loving. Almost.

[Y/N] forces out a painful laugh. "Nothing I can't handle."

A smile tugs on the edges of Draco's lips. "As expected."

Then he quietly resumes nursing her wounds, and [Y/N] doesn't realize that she has started crying until she tastes the tears on her lips. Draco notices but doesn't say anything.

And because she is pathetically in love and she wants him to feel the same, when the cuts on her wrist have been bandaged and Draco is tucking away all of the tubes of ointment in his pouch, saying something about being more careful the next time (even though the both of them know fully well that her tripping was an excuse), [Y/N] tries again and says, "I love you."

Draco freezes for nothing more than a split-second, but [Y/N] notices—her gaze is fixed on him intently, helplessly trying to gauge a reaction that part of her knows won't come. But she wishes it would.

Her wishes are unheard. Draco nods, turns his head just a fraction of an inch to look at her out of the corner of his eye, and offers her a sad smile.

Almost.

—

"No, listen to me, Draco—I am TIRED!"

"And you don't think I am?"

"I know you love her—Merlin, of course I know, I see it every time you look at me—but I'm asking you to try to love m—"

"You say it like it's easy."

There is a sob rattling in the back of her throat. [Y/N] swallows it back down and turns away from Draco like he hasn't already seen the absolute mess of tears on her cheeks.

Draco stares out of the window, jaw taut and his fists clenched so tight at his sides his knuckles have gone a ghostly white.

"I knew we were getting married but I never expected much beyond a sealed contract and an agreement between our families—I never expected to fall in love with you but I did so here I am now asking you to do the same for me."

A beat of silence. "You're not her."

Another swallowed sob. A brand new fissure in her heart that joins the thousands of others. "I'm sorry."

More silence. Then: "I am too."

And then Draco leaves first, because he always does.

—

Their fights don't last long. Days follow and Draco and [Y/N] go about as they always do, pretending like the gaping void between them isn't there. Whenever night comes, Draco will roll over and press a quiet kiss to the back of [Y/N]'s shoulders, snake one hand around her waist, and whisper I'm sorry, and [Y/N] will turn and drag her lips against his until Draco captures them in his own and they are stuck in that endless loop of want again.

Draco kisses the breath out of her and she kisses him back. Kisses him enough to make up for those few terrible minutes of anger she'd accidentally let loose days ago. Kisses him with love, with passion—with everything Draco doesn't have.

When she gasps for air and Draco pulls away and trails his lips down her neck, leaving a trail of what feels like pure flame behind in his wake, she digs her nails into his shoulders and holds him in place. In a strained voice she says: "Look at me."

He doesn't. Draco kisses her throat and against her will she sucks in a desperate, shuddering breath, and the air sounds like Draco's name. "Look at me, Draco," she repeats, fingers pressing into his skin more insistently.

This time he stops and pries his lips away from her skin and hovers over her, eyes searching hers.

"When you're with me," she begins, eyes dark, breath coming quick, "I want to be the only one inside your head. I want you to look into my eyes and see only me."

His grip on her waist tightens; her hands twist unsteadily in his hair, gaze clearing just a tiny bit as she says, "Please."

And then he is dipping down to kiss her again, lips parted, breath rough. Somewhere in between their almost frantic kisses he whispers a response, and [Y/N] is much too lost in the feeling of his skin on hers but she thinks that Draco might be breathing words into her skin. They sound like apologies—sound like I'm sorry, sound like Astoria.

[Y/N] throws her head back as Draco brushes his lips over the curve of her collarbones and whispers something audible this time, and this time it sounds like I'll try. Feels like hope. Feels like a door opening to something.

Feels, for the first time, something more than almost.

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junko-and-riri-domain · 4 years ago

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❦ boys & girls try to pretend | p.sh

❦ genre: park sunghoon x reader, fluff, semi-angsty?

❦ warnings: none (if there are any warnings I missed in relation to this post please let me know!)

“Boys and girls try to pretend

They’re not catching feelings

When they’re catching feelings”

❦ note: this was inspired by “boys & girls” by James TW, some lyrics were changed to fit the narrative of the story

As 7-year-old you looked at 7-year-old Park Sunghoon skating in the ice rink, there was a sort of air about him that had you curious about the boy. As most 7-years-old, the two of you were just gaining a recent awareness of what it meant to live life. Park Sunghoon knew the minute he stepped onto the ice that ice skating was his everything. He loved the thrill of it, the cold air, but most of all the freedom it provided. Over some hot chocolate, once he finally left the rink, the two of you got to talking which led to your parents exchanging numbers. Sunghoon wasn’t a talkative boy most of the time but his parents noted how he made an effort to talk to you.

You later found out that the two of you attended the same primary school but were in different classes. You found out one lunch at recess when you noticed some guys in the 3rd grade crowding over someone. Curiosity got the better of you and you wanted to see what was happening only to find out that the boy you drank hot chocolate with a few days prior was getting bullied. You stood up for Sunghoon, telling the bullies to “fudge off!” despite the slight fear you felt, the bullies left the two of you alone. The two of you spent the remaining few minutes of lunch together, bonding over a penguin plushie your aunt bought you as a gift.

It didn’t take long before the two of you became friends, a concept you’ve heard of but neither of you truly experienced until each other. The next year of school, the two of you were in the same class. Not only were you in the same class, but you hung out with each other outside of school, mostly at the ice skating rink where the two of you truly noticed each other. Some days you joined him in skating but for the most part, you preferred to watch, a habit that would continue in later years to come.

When you turned double digits, things started changing. You’d be entering middle school soon with more classes and newer people. One Saturday, Sunghoon was at your house and the two of you were having a Disney movie marathon. The scene of the Sleeping Beauty kissing scene appeared on the screen,

“Mama said that people only kiss when they love each other,” you found yourself saying as you glanced over to Sunghoon. You knew love in the form of warm breakfast and being tucked into a blanket but not yet in form of the scene where Flynn Ryder and Rapunzel were surrounded by lanterns on a canoe. Sunghoon looked at you,

“Do you love me?” he asked. He wanted to know your answer for some odd reason despite not knowing the weight of the question. With you, the feeling you gave him was something similar to the one he felt while on the ice but somehow different? You nodded,

“Mama said to love everyone.” Neither of you knew exactly what happened at that moment when Sunghoon made his way to you, your lips brushing for a second, no more, no less. Your first kiss was etched into the history of the world, one of billions of events that occurred that day in that very moment. The kiss wasn’t mentioned nor talked about after that day but the two of you were gaining an awareness of what it meant to be boys and girls.

“You’d talk about a certain boy

And he’d give you his advice

While you’d tell him what to say to all of the girls he ‘liked’”

At 13-years-old, things started changing between the two of you. You were given the talk about puberty with a new awareness of the “birds and bees.” Your group of friends increased, often teasing you and Sunghoon but neither of you paid any mind to it. Feelings of conflict often filled you when you noticing the differences in Sunghoon. The way he was taller, his hair styled differently, and the difference in the atmosphere when he got close to you. The things he did for you were done so in silence but were still actions that you noticed like how he’d give you your favorite bag of chips during lunch or how he waited by your locker to walk home with you. Despite realizing that you had a semi crush on Sunghoon, you were started to have feelings for a boy in your English class, one named Jaeyun. With no other person to ask, you’d talk about it with Sunghoon, often failing to notice the way his jaw clenched slightly or how his gaze grew colder. As a rebuttal, he talked about a girl in his English class and you’d give him pointers on how to talk to her despite the slight sinking feeling in your chest. You and Sunghoon had English class together but you didn’t know which girl he liked and you found yourself not wanting to know.

“As he watched you get close to him

He knew it was serious

Something inside lit up a fire

Can’t help if something’s changed”

You and Sunghoon as a pair started including Jaeyun somewhere down the line. Sunghoon found something else he wanted to do apart from ice skating which no one ever thought possible. He first asked you about it, preferring your opinion over any one else’s and while you were scared of losing your best friend you knew that this was something that’d make him happy. So, you told him to go for his dreams of becoming an idol. On the days that you and Sunghoon weren’t together, Jaeyun was there for you which lead to the two of you getting closer. One night, a rare event happened. Sunghoon’s practice ended early and the two of you headed to the ice skating rink. You decided to skate with him today, wanting to have his presence near you rather than watching from afar.

“You and Jaeyun,” you heard him say in a low voice as you skated. Your hands were linked, an action that was something you were used to with how long you’ve known each other that you didn’t think much of it.

“What about Jae?”

“Are you two… together?” Unsure as to what he was truly trying to ask,

“We went to the festival together yesterday.” The festival was one Sunghoon was supposed to attend with you but couldn’t.

“Just the two of you?”

“Well yeah, since you weren’t there,” you answered. Sunghoon said nothing and you accepted his silence. He was so deep into his thoughts that he ended up tripping over his skates and falling. Because the two of you were holding hands, you were accidentally brought down with him. As the feeling of falling came over you, you waited for the impact of ice on your body but it never felt. Sunghoon let out a slight hiss of pain as you opened your eyes and saw that you were on top of him, his arms wrapped around you to protect you from the ground. His eyes settled on you with an emotion you couldn’t decipher,

“You ok?” he asked. There was something about how the two of you were settled within this moment, the close proximity of your faces, the cold temperature of the ice that caused it to turn a few degrees higher due to the newfound body heat you were sharing, and the way his arms felt so natural around you. A shift in your relationship occurred in this moment and while you both knew it, neither made the effort to acknowledge it.

“We had so much to lose

But I kissed you anyway”

In the following weeks, you started drawing lines between you and Jaeyun. He didn’t exactly notice that you had a crush on him in the first place with how outgoing he was to everyone, but Sunghoon did notice. However, you drew lines with Sunghoon too as you saw how passionate he was with the dream of becoming an idol. Making an effort to state that you two were just friends despite how much you wanted to be more, Sunghoon allowed himself to stay behind the lines you drew out fear of ruining the foundations the two of you built your life upon. Weeks turned to months which turned to years and before either of you knew what was happening, Sunghoon’s dream of becoming an idol was within his reach. You cheered for him on i-land, and cheered for ENHYPEN when the members were announced. Due to Sunghoon’s newfound busy schedule and the responsibilities of life pressing on you, your video calls that sometimes lasted an entire day shifted to regular calls that decreased in time which turned to mere texts that became inconsistent. Constantly, you found reminders of each other whether it be when you saw a penguin plushy or were drinking a cup of hot chocolate. It didn’t take long before an entire year passed since you last talked to each other. Then, at 3 in the morning, Sunghoon showed up in front of your doorstep.

“Sunghoon?” you asked despite it clearly being him.

“Can I come in?” For the first time in both of your lives, the silence was something you didn’t know what to do or say. Until finally, you took his hand and brought him inside. Sunghoon was gaining popularity and you didn’t want a box of mangoes being delivered to your doorstep anytime soon. His height towered over yours as you got a good look at the boy you missed more than you cared to admit. As his eyes settled into yours, his hand pulling you closer his arms wrapped around you.

“I missed you, y/n,” he whispered. There was a gentleness only owned by Park Sunghoon when he lifted up your chin so that you were looking at him. Then, he tilted his head slightly.

“Boys and girls try to pretend

They’re not catching feelings

When they’re catching feelings”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you brought your hand up to his neck. The closeness of your bodies like the time in the ice skating rink where you fell on each other but here the process of falling for each other was truly starting to take effect. Kissing Park Sunghoon now, the two of you were boys and girls trying to pretend you didn’t have any feelings for each other. The only thing was that now you were no longer boys and girls like you used to be. And now, you were no longer pretending.

|❦ end of story, written by riri| |blog master list|

more fics: (the fics linked below are all fluff but the master list has angst)

|warm mornings (jungwon, written by junko)| |you, jake, and layla (jake, written by riri)| |storms & ghosts (jay, written by riri)|

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years ago

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God please can I get anything with Rook hunting down his escaped darling? This man has a thing for chasing you down you cannot convince mo otherwise

I’ve been meaning to write a special headcanon/scenario post about Pomefiore to celebrate the release of Chapter Five, but,,, this’ll have to do, for now. I’m doing a disservice to the best dorm, but hopefully, some Rook content will delay by inevitable shame.

Title: The Hunt.

TW: Violence, Kidnapping, Strong Predator/Prey Themes, Implied Stalking, and Mentions of Death.

You really used to think Rook was just on the extravagant side.

That’s how it’d seemed when he first introduced himself, dropping to one knee and pressing his hand to his chest, declaring something loud enough and incoherent enough to draw the eye of every onlooker within earshot. Some of his actions were questionable, his gaze often leaning towards the unnerving side, but you’d never thought he was villainous, he hadn’t seemed to want to do harm. He meant mischief, as far as you could tell. He didn’t try to hide the way he watched the more particular members of the student body, but he never took anything beyond a picture. He never made a secret of his fondness for you, but his affection was a fleeting thing - he’d said as much himself a dozen different times. You figured Rook would move long as soon as something newer and shinier came along. You thought he was just having fun.

You supposed you weren’t wrong. He had been having fun. He was still having fun.

It just wasn’t fun for you, anymore.

“Mon cœur,” Rook called, the familiar term of endearment stretching into something twisted, something perverse as it echoed through the lifeless woods. The forest surrounding the Pomefiore dormitory was always dark, always daze-like, always horrid, but tonight, it felt especially misleading, as if the trees themselves were uprooting and rearranging to guide you in any direction but the one that’d lead you away from your hunter. That’s what he was now, really, your hunter. Rook had a way of making his prey feel like pets, of making you feel like a partner rather than another trophy for him to decapitate and mount on his wall, but all of those blissful lies and domestic fantasies had dissolved into thin air the moment you slipped out of your chains and threw yourself out of that elegant, stained-glass window of his. It’d been a stupid move, in hindsight, you were only doing damage to yourself and giving him a blood-trail to follow, but a lifetime of picking crystalline shards out of your skin would be less agonizing than another minute spent in his captivity. You just wished his footsteps hadn’t fallen in-tempo with yours so quickly.

“You really should come out, (Y/n).” His voice was calm, projected with the all the tranquil serenity of a man who already knew he’d won. It wasn’t close, it wasn’t deafening, but the fact that you could hear him at all was damning. It meant he’d be able to hear you, too, even if you had no plans to announce yourself so blatantly. “I know you love your games, and I do want to play with you, but staying up so late is bad for your skin, no? And you must be so tired, dear. If you put an end to this silly show of defiance now, I may even let you sleep in my bed, rather than the cage where you belong.”

You didn’t respond - you wouldn’t have, even if you hadn’t been hiding. Pushing forward, you drove yourself to run faster, to escape both his cage and his bed. There was a clearing in your path, a spot where the leaf-canopy broke apart and the ground grew barren, harsh moonlight seeping in like an unwanted thought, but you skirted around it, following its borders until you found the spot where the foliage was at its thickest. You didn’t think as you forced yourself into the narrow space between branches and trunks and vines with so many thorns, you had to wonder if you’d die of blood loss before Rook got a chance to wring your neck himself, only pressing a hand over your mouth and doing your best to control your panting. You just had to stay put for a minute. You just had to give him time to move on. Then, you’d be able to circle back and beat on every door in Pomefiore until someone recognized you as the student who’d gone missing weeks ago. Then, you’d be safe.

Rook, on the other hand, had no reason to tuck himself away. He stepped into the large clearing without hesitation, letting out a long, labored sigh as he idly glanced towards his surroundings. He must’ve begun his chase as soon as he noticed you’d gotten out, his intricate wardrobe cut down to little more than a black shirt and an insulated, camouflage jacket, both doing leagues more to block out the biting cold than the simple button-down shirt you’d been given to wear. He hadn’t had time to choose a proper weapon, either. Rook preferred traditional bows, the kind without cogs or cables to alleviate the tension of the draw, but he was carrying a simplistic compound bow tonight, made for efficiency and speed rather than enjoyment. Made for maiming his target, rather than indulging them in their rebellion, an arrow already knocked and ready to be drawn back at the first hint of an opening. “Perhaps I should call you mon ange, instead, considering you’re so eager to fly away.” Another sigh, this one accompanied by a graceful turn on his heel and a smooth survey of the forest. His eyesight was good, but it couldn’t be that good. You could barely see your hand in front of your face, where the shadows were their deepest. “Wouldn’t it be easier to come out on your own? You know how much I hate having to drag you home.”

Liar. That dirty, filthy liar. He’d already dragged you away from Night Raven, he’d already dragged you away from your classmates and your family and your friends, and all because he was under some deluded, pathetic notion that he’d only be able to love you - truly love you - if he nailed you to the ground, first. His gaze wandered, he was the one who couldn’t be trusted to keep his promises. He’d just wanted to ensure you’d still be there, waiting for him with open arms, when he got back from all his many expeditions. He’d imprisoned you, and he’d delighted in it, reveled in the joy that came with a source of companionship he’d be able to bleed dry. He was only unamused now that you’d refused to let him cut you open.

You could feel your cheeks begin to flush in anger, your nails curling into your palms, but that did little to stop Rook from going on. Always going on, never stopping. You hadn’t realized how much you hated the sound of his voice until you’d been forced to listen. “I’ll admit, I’ve been busy, lately. Have I been neglecting you?” He laughed, the sound airy, non-commital. As if it suddenly didn’t matter if you came out, as if he suddenly didn’t care. “This is childish, is it not? I mean, I never thought you would stoop so low just to buy for my attention.”

It was so little, it was nothing, just a shift of your weight in the barest hint of a reaction, but dried leaves and twigs seemed to crack under your feet as if you’d thrown your biggest tantrum yet. You reacted immediately, scrambling to free yourself from your constrictive hiding place, but Rook was so fast, he was so ready. It was all you could do to catch a glimpse of his bow as he took aim, your efforts to escape from his line of fire turning out all-but futile. You pressed yourself against the nearest trunk, but in the end, he was the one who faltered, his arrow barely grazing your bicep, cutting through your sleeve but only leaving a thin, red line in your skin, the shallowest wound he’d ever inflicted. You allowed yourself to smile, you allowed yourself to laugh, but Rook didn’t move to fire again, only slinging his bow over his shoulder, slotting it into place as if he wouldn’t need to use it again. Not on you, anyway.

“You really should come out,” He said, one more time. “These kinds of things tend to get rather ugly when they’re not given the proper treatment.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what he meant, but before you could gather up the confidence to ask, something sharp and frigid pounded through your injured arm, stretching from your fingertips to your shoulders, and out of reflex, you glanced towards the cut. A pale, lilac fluid was smeared across your skin, dripping from the small wound, the color so faint, you hadn’t noticed it before. The same shade of purple that coated his arrowhead, even after it’d buried itself in the ground.

Oh.

That made sense. For Rook, at least.

You hardly tried to resist it, your body buckling under its own weight, crumbling until you were little more than a mass of stained clothes and writhing limbs, every part of you contorted in agony so vivid and bright, the darkness seemed to dissolve, kept at a faithful distance by an unmoving wall of white-hot pain. It was relentless, it was ruthless, and it only got worse as Rook’s calloused hands took hold of your tense form, lifting you off the ground and pulling you against his chest, cradling you as gently and as tortuously as he could. His hum was liked a needle to your ears, the click of his tongue as fatal as a dagger to the back of your neck, but even then, you knew it wouldn’t kill you. No, no, that’d ruin Rook’s fun. That’d be too merciful for him. That’d be too kind.

And to think, you’d almost forgotten the flare your hunter was capable of.

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earlgreytea68 · 4 years ago

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Hi! Some time ago a link to the fandom fic archives in LJ was shared, and omg, what a treasure chest it is for the new members like me! It’s very interesting to look at what people wrote about in the past, themes generally didn’t change that much, the approach did, not only because this was written pre.h. and now is now, but also because the world around us changed and a lot of things we view differently now. All of the stuff I managed to consume is amazing, it only confirmed for me, that there’s a ton of wonderfully talented people in the fandom at all times, it really warms my heart. I think someone who knows those things from the inside could describe all of this better and there’s a lot of little details, that you can compare and analyse. But one of the first things, that catches my eye, when I open a fic is the disclaimer, they were so colourful and creative at the time! It’s like genre on itself )) and in the “Pete is a genius” post you mentioned about his close involvement with the fandom, so let me tell you, the amount of variations of “Pete, if you reading this...” is endless!! It makes me smile every time ))

hahahaha I love the old school disclaimers warning Pete away! I honestly almost added one to my “Pete Wentz is a genius” post yesterday because I feel pretty sure Pete Wentz has a Tumblr lol. Look, on one of the episodes of Loud and Sad Radio Pete is shipping Rihanna and Drake, when I say Pete is fannish, I very much mean it in the shipping characters way. He’s on this podcast analyzing a Hallmark Christmas movie and there’s this part where he’s like, “What’s the deal with the guy’s manager, like, I thought *he* was in love with the guy,” and I was just like, “Yeah, Pete, because you think in Fanfiction.”

ANYWAY, I agree about how interesting it is to read the older LJ-native fics and contrast them with the newer AO3-style fics. If I ever went to school to get my Ph.D., I think my dissertation would be on the differences between the two, because I am so fascinated by them. Like, you can just *tell* when you’re reading an LJ fic, there are all these little differences to them, the pacing seems a little bit different to me, and I feel like the narration is slightly different, somehow, like an LJ fic has the narrator keep even closer to the character than even on AO3 (and AO3 generally has very close narration, especially when compared to non-fic styles of writing, it always startles me, the gap between narrator and character, when I read non-fic).

I’ve thought a lot about these differences, like, are those just the LJ fics that have survived to get passed around? Surely there is a much wider variety of LJ fic that got written, in the same way that AO3 fics cover a vast array of styles and it’s foolish of me to generalize. But nevertheless I do generalize lol. I feel like the AO3 style of tagging necessarily brought changes to both how you write and how you read a story. I feel that maybe it’s tagging, the idea of the categories you slot in, the leads to AO3 fics more often having more of a recognizable shape to them, a subgenre to slot in, whereas LJ stories will more often peter out into ambiguity.

But my favorite thing about stories of the LJ era -- my very favorite thing -- the thing that kills me every time I read an LJ-era fic -- THE DIALOGUE. REMEMBER THAT WAY OF WRITING DIALOGUE?!?!!?! Okay, this is not to say no one on AO3 can write dialogue, that is absolutely not true, there is lots of great dialogue on AO3. But there is this very specific style of dialogue that was in vogue during the heyday of LJ fic. I know this because this is when I was learning how to write dialogue, and so I recognize my quirks in there. We all kind of came of age steeped in Sorkin and Gilmore Girls when Sorkinese was briefly considered wildly new and different rather than a self-parody and I just feel like LJ dialogue pulses with this influence of what people were doing with dialogue in this period, how they were playing with it. Maybe tonight I’ll do an LJ reading binge and paste some examples of what I mean, but there was all this unconventional punctuation going on that I see less of these days. Like, it would mimic the starts and stops of speech, but not with ellipsis or dashes, with flat-out periods. Something like this:

“But that’s. Would you. Okay, look. This is what I’m saying.”

And I’m kind of obsessed with this style, there’s like this thing that gets conveyed by “Would you.” that doesn’t get conveyed by either “Would you...” or “Would you--” Those three are all very different things, and the “Would you.” resonates with me and it’s something that is ALL OVER LJ-era fic and then seemed to kind of fall out (heh) of fashion or something. Idk, there was a night I spent doing what you did and reading old LJ-era bandom fic and I was reading the dialogue and just being like OH MY GOD REMEMBER WHEN WE ALL DID THIS, THIS IS SO LJ, OMG.

The other thing I noticed specific to FOB LJ fic is that at least once a fic Pete says, “Yeah, no.” Haha I have tried to remember to carry that over into my fic, just a little private passing of the torch in my own head.

#peterick #fall out boy #fob #bandom #long post

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shoutaaizawas · 5 years ago

Text

↳ todoroki shoto x reader → cat naps

event: domestic fluff prompt summary: you and shoto adopt a cat word count: 1,929 tags/warnings: fluff a/n: this was requested by @fudgingheckdudarino sorry for the wait. this was way longer than intended but i really enjoyed it.

You wanted a cat. Ever since you were little you adored cats. You grew up with them and it just always made you so happy to have them around.

Now you were an adult who shared a home with Shoto Todoroki, your husband. You had mentioned a few times how empty the house felt which led to Shoto explaining how he wasn’t ready for kids and might not ever be. Which for the record was a conversation you had already had and if you didn’t know how oblivious he was you might be offended that he was thinking you were trying to push him into having children.

“No, no Sho. That’s not what I meant.” You said, turning to face him in your shared bed. “I mean we should get a pet.”

“Oh.” He said you could tell he felt bad at assuming. “I’ve never had any pets.”

That didn’t surprise you, the more you had found out about his childhood the more you wanted to go slap Endeavor. Yes, he was trying to be a good father now but it didn’t erase what he had put his children through.

“It’s nice.” You told him, snuggling up to his warmer half. “They’re always there to greet you when you come home. I don’t know I just like the idea of knowing that someone’s getting used out of the house even when we’re gone all day.”

Shoto had a thoughtful look on his face which told you he was considering the idea.

“Not to mention there are so many animals out there that have been hurt and abandoned and don’t have any home.” You explained. “It makes me sad to know they’re out there without any love. It feels good to take in a pet and give it the love and safety it never had.”

“I’m starting to understand why you started dating me.” Shoto’s unexpected jokes always caught you off guard no matter how many times he cracked them. You nearly choked on your own spit.

“Not even.” You bumped him playfully with your shoulder. “I only dated you for your dashing good looks.” You smiled at him, brushing your hand through his hair. He gave you a small smile.

“I like the idea but I don’t think we’re home enough to have a dog. Don’t they need lots of attention.” He questioned.

“Yeah, I was thinking of a cat. They like attention but they also like their space. I grew up with them, I know how to take care of them.” You told him.

“Okay. We can go look tomorrow.” He offered.

“Really?!” You sat up looking at your husband with excitement.

“Yeah.” He said.

“I’m so excited, Sho!” You said before diving in for a kiss.

Walking into the animal shelter you felt like a child buzzing with excitement. You were most likely going home with a new family member today, your first cat as an adult, and Shoto’s first pet ever. You couldn’t wait.

Holding hands you walked through the different enclosures with different cats. At the front they had a bunch of kitten’s together, you couldn’t help but stare at how cute they were as they tumbled around played.

“They’re really cute,” Shoto said as he watched them with you.

“They are but kittens are a lot of work and they usually find homes pretty easy. I was thinking we could get an older cat. They need time to adjust but they’re calmer and don’t always find homes.”

“That makes sense.” He said as you walked further down the hallway.

There were plenty of older cats in different colors and sizes. You both stopped to look at each one you passed looking for something to draw you to one of them.

You stopped at one cage, looking at the cat that was currently curled up in the corner looking defensive. It was a scruffy white cat that had a scar over its eye as well as an ear with a piece of it missing. It looked scared.

Instantly you felt attached to the cat.

“Oh that’s one of our newer cats, he’s had a pretty rough life. He’s gonna need a lot of love, that one.” A volunteer mentioned when they saw them looking at the cat. “The previous owner was very abusive, he doesn’t seem to like men.”

“Can we see it?” Shouto said, surprising you. It seemed you were on the same page.

“Normally we’d take you to the rooms we have so people can visit with the cat but in his case, it’d probably be better to take you to him.” They said, leading them to a door.

They took you and Shouto to the other side where you could open the enclosures they had for the cats. They opened the door and let you enter, giving you some treats for the cat.

“Hey there.” You said, kneeling down. Shouto followed your lead.

The cat stared at you nervously.

“It’s okay, do you want a treat?” You said, reaching out and placing a treat in front of it.

He stared at you waiting for you to pull your hand away before it hesitantly leaned forward and ate the treat. It looked less nervous but still wasn’t trusting.

You both spent a few minutes with the cat, slowly feeding it the treats and talking to it. Shouto watched quietly.

Once you were out of treats you went back to the hallway to look at more of the cats. Every cat you saw after you couldn’t help but think back to the scruffy white cat.

When you walked back down the hallway you passed the white cat, pausing to look at it. When it’s blue eyes caught sight of you it left the corner approaching you through the glass that separated you both.

“Sho.” You cooed.

“I want that one.” He replied. You looked over, he hadn’t made any comments about which cat he was interested in yet.

“It won’t be an easy first cat for you, it’ll take time to earn its trust and for him to be comfortable around people, especially men.” You told him. As much as you wanted to help that cat you didn’t want Shouto’s first experience with a pet to be said pet hating him.

“You’re good with cats, you can help him. He deserves to have someone who will be patient and help him. What if no one else will?” He said. “And I can see how much you already love him.”

You smiled at Shouto, eyes tearing up just a little.

“Have I ever told you you’re too good for this world.” You said, grabbing his hand and pulling him in close.

You both went to the front counter and explained which cat you wanted. The volunteers were very helpful, giving some tips to help them make sure he would be as comfortable as possible in his new home.

While they got the cat ready to be sent home, you and Shouto ran to the pet store to pick up everything you would need for your new member of the family. It warmed your heart watching Shouto thoughtfully pick out which toy he thought the cat would like most or what treat flavor he would prefer. Shouto ended up throwing a bunch of variations of everything into the cart saying that he could try them all and decide.

You returned to the animal shelter with a nice carrier for your new cat, handing it over to the workers so they could retrieve him.

Driving home you could tell he was nervous even if he was quietly sitting in the carrier. The carrier sat on your lap as Shouto drove. You softly spoke to him reassuring him that he was going somewhere safe.

“What should we name him?” Shouto asked.

“I’m not sure, the first name that came to mind was Shiro but that’s kind of on the nose.” You said.

“What about Azumi?” Shouto said. “It means safe residence. He’s safe now.”

“That’s really nice, Sho. I love it.” You told him.

Once he was home you did as the volunteers suggested, placing his carrier in the living room and shutting the doors to the rest of the house. You made sure the cat tree you bought was set up along with a cat hide. That let him have places to hide but kept him from disappearing into the house.

They suggested placing the food out in the open and staying in the room doing something quiet and keeping treats with you.

You and Shouto sat on the couch, cuddled together watching TV on a low volume. When you let Azumi out he was quick to hide away in the little cat house provided. It was hard not to stare waiting for him to peek out but you tried your best to act natural and move slowly about the house.

By the end of the night, he made his way slowly to his food bowl eating a little bit before returning to his safe space. That was a win in your book.

It took time, eventually, he was more comfortable being seen by you. He would perch on his cat tree or sit on the couch when no one was in the living room. You opened up more of the house to him as time went on.

The day that you were able to approach Azumi and pet him without him running away Shoto came home to find you crying. At first, he was concerned but once he realized that you weren’t hurt but crying because you were happy he calmed down.

You were able to bond with the cat but Shoto struggled. It was hard not only because it was his first pet but because Azumi was scared of men. You helped Shoto but it still took time.

Shoto was so patient, he never became frustrated or upset. He didn’t even feel dejected when he found Azumi on your lap when he got home only for him to run off at the sight of Shoto.

You would often come home to Shoto sitting on the floor a few feet away from Azumi with his hand held out holding treats. Shoto would softly speak to him, talking to him about his day.

You already loved Shoto but the way he treated Azumi made you love him more.

It took a long time but one night you had been working late. You came in the door, putting your purse down and taking your coat off. You walked into the living room, the lights were low. Shoto laid on the couch asleep, a stray book had fallen out of his hand.

What made your heart stop was the sight of Azumi resting on Shoto’s chest fast asleep. Shoto’s hand was on top of the cat holding him gently.

It took everything you had not to cry. You snapped a photo before sitting down and watching them. You had a feeling that Azumi was going to be Shoto’s cat more than your own at this point. Shoto stirred in his sleep, eyes opening.

“You’re home.” He said with a soft smile.

“And you have a new friend.” You said.

Shoto sat up keeping Azumi cradled to his chest. The cat didn’t so much as flinch as he did.

“Can we get another cat?” Shoto asked. “I mean if Azumi doesn’t mind.”

“I’d love to.” You said, leaning towards him and pressing a kiss against his lips.

You had a feeling you’d be getting more than just one more cat.

#shoto todoroki #todoroki #shoto #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #my writing #domestic prompt event

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Three ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG

Word count: 3857

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Thanks for your response to the previous chapters! I hope you all are doing well <3

In the morning, it’s Orophin who wakes me. I accept his offer of breakfast readily, even if it’s more of the same bread and now-soggy fruit. Rumil offers me a knowing smile, promising more interesting food once we sit at Elrond’s table, and I hold on to that hope. After a hasty breakfast, I work on finishing mending the two tunics. I’m nearly done when I feel a presence behind me and turn my head.

Haldir stands, tall and intimidating as ever, peering over my shoulder.

I purse my lips, trying to hold in a laugh. His behavior is so much stranger than that of the others. “Yes?”

He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing my work, then nods once. “That will do. Thank you for your work.” He raises his voice so all can hear. “We leave in ten minutes.” He holds out a hand, and I place the shirts there, still trying to get over hearing the words ‘thank you’ from him. I honestly didn’t think he was the type.

The more you know, I guess.

Like the others, I hurry to pack my things. Because, over the limited time I’ve spent with this group, I quickly came to realize that when Haldir says ten minutes, he actually means ten minutes, and only ten minutes. I stifle a laugh. Mara would never—

A gasp tears through my throat, and I drop my bag.

Sharp tings ring through the air — the sound of metals scraping against each other. Absently, I recognize it as the sound of swords being drawn from their scabbards.

Haldir appears at my side, gripping my elbow and drawing me nearer to him. “What is it?” His voice is low, urgent, and, though he speaks to me, his eyes never pause their scan of our surroundings.

Belatedly, I realize my error. Of course they would think I saw something of concern. But the memory is taking form now, my head begins to pound and ache with the effort, and I have to work to assemble a sentence. I don’t want to lose focus, to lose the memories. “No, it’s—” I try to explain, try to communicate that we’re not in any danger—that I know of. “I only…” I bring a hand to my temple and take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “It’s not an attack, sorry for scaring you guys. It’s just, well, I’m remembering something.”

Baranor jogs over to me, sheathing his sword. Haldir is much slower to relax, and releases my arm in favor of walking the perimeter of our camp.

“Tell us about it,” Baranor encourages. “It might help you recall more.”

“It’s nothing helpful or important,” I preface apologetically, but he only waves it off.

“Any memory is a sign of recovery. Now, go on!”

“Okay.” I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to remember as much as possible. The initial ache in my head is fading, though it sharpens when I try to concentrate too hard on any one detail. “I was thinking of how I better hurry up and get my supplies together because Haldir is the type of person—well, you guys would say ellon, I guess—who means what he says, so I sure as hell better be ready in ten minutes. Then, out of nowhere, I remembered a friend from home—Mara. She’s…” the memory warps and dips out of sight, but I chase after it, feeling my pulse race. I want to remember. I want to know more. The memory comes back to me and I am rewarded for my efforts with more details about my friend. “She’s taller than me but shorter than you, has a pixie cut, and always wears these ridiculous blue sneakers, no matter the occasion.” I feel a pang of fondness for this important person I’ve only just remembered. Is this what missing someone is like? “But I think she came to mind because she’s always late, to the point where, if I hosted a party or something, I would have to tell her it started earlier than it did in the hope that she would show up on time. Oh, it would make—” And the progress stops. I strain my mind, trying to force it to go deeper, to learn more, to try harder, but nothing happens. All I receive in return is a splitting headache, one that makes me grimace against the pain. I can’t remember anything else about Mara, or place her in any other memories, or find the person she always angered with her tardiness.

Feeling a little defeated, I shrug.

Baranor gives me an encouraging smile, shaking his head. “You are doing well. I think, with adequate rest and time for your head to heal, and perhaps some intervention of Elrond’s, you will have your memory restored. Do not lose hope.”

I accept his reassurance, as well as his leg-up for the horse, and spend the remainder of the morning wracking my brain, searching for more memories of a friend I didn’t know I had.

{***}

By midday, the sun is bearing down on us hotter than it has before. I shed my cloak, using my newly acquired riding proficiency to keep my balance while tucking the fabric into my bag. I glance at my companions, each of whom wears a metal chest plate, a bow and quiver on his back, and various swords and knives on his belt. It makes me feel overheated just looking at them. “How are you all not miserable in that armor? I’m burning up and I’m just in a tunic and leggings!”

“Ah, dear Cosima, you are mistaken.” Rumil pulls up next to me and Baranor, shaking his head in mock sadness. “You see, we are miserable. We are absolutely baking with all the added weight we carry.”

From his spot ahead of us, Orophin snorts, a noise I’m not sure I’ve ever heard from him. “This is nothing, little brother. You weren’t part of the guard when Haldir made us run for miles during the hottest part of the day in the hottest part of the summer in full battle armor and weaponry for seven days in a row.”

“Ah, yes.” Haldir chimes in, and I can hear the hint of a smile in his voice. It softens it slightly, makes him sound less harsh. “I remember that drill. Perhaps I should bring it back. It seems the newer members of the guard aren’t as well-adjusted as those who went through such special training.”

Rumil visibly pales. “Haldir you wouldn’t.”

“Oh I most certainly would,” he shoots back, his signature haughty tone coming forth once again. But he turns his head over his shoulder, giving his youngest brother a teasing look.

I laugh, caught off guard by Haldir’s playfulness and Rumil’s woeful expression. Haldir returns facing forward and rolls his shoulder back, seeming perfectly pleased with the knowledge that he can still torment his little brother. I twist to stick my tongue out at Rumil, who responds with a glare.

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Cosima.” I snap my head back in Haldir’s direction. Surely he’s not… “If you decide to return to Lothlórien with us, I am having you fitted with armor for the return journey.” He turns over his shoulder once more, fixing me with a single raised eyebrow. “And it will be well into summer by then.”

He turns away, apparently not phased by the quiet chuckles of Orophin and Baranor, nor the gleeful guffaws of Rumil.

“Rude,” I mutter under my breath, but this only makes them all laugh harder.

The sparse cloud cover shifts and the rays of the sun concentrate on the top of my head. Its warmth knots and multiples in the tangles of my hair, and I want nothing more than to have some relief from the awful heat. I grimace, wishing I had something to use to put my hair up. I steal jealous looks at my companions who call themselves elves. Their hair is just as long as mine and it doesn’t seem to bother them one bit. While mine collects frizz like it’s gold, their hair remains perfectly straight and smooth, falling over their shoulders almost languidly. My inspection of their hair reveals something I hadn’t taken much notice of before — the subtle yet intricate braids each of them wears. And though there is hair wrapped around the end of each braid, obscuring what I hope is there, something has to be holding the braids in place—right? Otherwise, they would fall and sit straight like the hair is made to.

It’s worth the ask.

I raise my voice a bit, calling out to the whole group. “Long shot, but does anyone have a hair tie? Preferably big enough for me to get around all of my hair?”

Orophin and Baranor shake their heads. Rumil makes a show of checking his wrists and the pouch attached to his belt, but comes back with only a look of apology.

Shoot.

Though he never falters in keeping his horse at a quick pace, I notice Haldir twist slightly, rummaging through one of his bags. Quick as a flash, he tosses something behind him which Rumil catches easily, though I myself can barely follow the object’s movements. Rumil grins, presenting me with a tan, thin circle of leather. He demonstrates spreading his fingers and the leather stretches.

I take the hair tie, smiling broadly. Perfect. “Thanks, Haldir!” He says nothing, only nods in acknowledgment. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. He’s back to business, then.

Rumil brings his horse closer to the one Baranor and I ride, and I notice even Orophin shooting me interested looks. I raise an eyebrow self-consciously. “What?”

Rumil scrutinizes the hair tie, then the waves that fall down my back. “What are you going to do with a tie that large?”

I squint, partially at the shift in the sun’s angle, and partially in confusion at Rumil’s question. “I’m…going to put it up in a bun?” The looks they give me have me questioning my choice. Is that wrong, somehow?

Baranor tilts his head towards me as much as he can. “A bun?”

“Yeah, I—wait.” I pause, recalling that they only way they’ve worn their hair so far is down with the small braids added in. “Do you guys leave your hair down all the time?”

“For the most part.” Rumil shrugs. “Sometimes during battle or heavy training we will tie it all back in one or a few braids, but elves traditionally let their hair grow long and leave it down.”

“Interesting,” I murmur, taking the time to really look at each of their heads. Haldir, Rumil, and Orophin’s braids have similarities, but are in no way identical, and Baranor’s are completely different. I begin to catch on. “So, do the braids mean something, then?”

“Exactly,” Rumil nods, a twinkle in his eye. “It’s up to the elf to decide what to put in their hair, but most at least indicate where they hail from and from which family. Most warriors will denote who they are with braids—healers and scholars, too. If you are courting, that’s a specific braid as well, to show other elves that you are off-limits unless the courtship is broken.”

I smile, seeing their hair in a whole new light. “I never knew they meant something. The braids are beautiful.”

Rumil tosses his hair in my direction, letting me see the interlocking twists and tucks of a complicated ladder braid. “Mine the most, right?”

I roll my eyes, shooting my cheeky companion a grin. “If you say so.”

But all this talk of hair is reminding me just how hot my own is making me, and I am endlessly grateful for the means to put it up. I grip the horse tighter with my legs, preparing to release my arms from Baranor’s stabilizing middle. “Don’t let me fall,” I whisper, nerves gathering in my stomach as I chance a look at the ground passing under the horse’s thundering hooves.

“Of course,” he nods, and I swear the horse rides smoother.

Tentatively, I unwrap my arms from the thing that steadies me, putting more hope into my legs to keep me on the horse. I take a few deep breaths, straightening my back and keeping myself as still as possible while continuing to rock with the horse. Once I feel solid, I reach my hands up, gathering my hair. I don’t remember the last time I did this, but the muscle memory is there. I pull my hair into a high ponytail, beginning to twist the long strands around each other.

The horse jolts and I suck in a breath, feeling my body jerk to the right. Rumil shoots out an arm, steading me quickly. I give him a look of relieved thanks and continue, twisting my hair with one hand and wrapping the tie with the other. From the corner of my eye, I notice Orophin slow his horse a little, falling back to ride closer to us. He alternates between watching our surroundings and shooting curious glances at my hair. With a final twist, the bun is secured, and I take a moment to pull at the top and the sides so it’s not too tight.

Smiling broadly, I drop my arms, wrapping them around Baranor once again. “Ha! I did it!”

“Great job,” Rumil grins, voice thick with sarcasm. “Soon you will be able to shoot a bow while riding at a full gallop.”

Orophin snorts at his brother’s joke, speeding up once again to return to his place near Haldir.

“Oh, be quiet,” I snark, just happy to have a little relief from the heat.

A low bird call sounds from somewhere around us, and I tilt my head upwards, looking for the source. I’ve never heard a twitter like that before. “What kind—”

“Shh,” Rumil hisses, all traces of humor gone. I turn to him in confusion, then notice the way each of them sits straighter, more tense, a hand on the weapon nearest to him. I shrink against Baranor, heart beginning to race.

Something’s wrong.

I guess I wouldn’t know for sure, but I have the sneaking suspicion that I’ve never been in a fight. And, while I have no reason to doubt these men that I’ve somehow come to trust in such a short time, how can I really know if they are as great warriors as they say? For all I know, their perception of themselves could be horribly skewed, and we’re about to be attacked and overpowered.

I feel my hands shaking.

Baranor inclines his head in my direction, catching my attention. “It’s alright. It is just one man, as far as we can tell, but Haldir will want to ascertain that we are not walking into a trap. Stay silent and do not draw attention to yourself. We are going to approach him.”

As if on some unspoken order, Haldir and Orophin draw their swords. Rumil takes the bow from his back and smoothly nocks an arrow. I try to exhale quietly, fear making my breath catch in my throat. I tighten my grip around Baranor and press my forehead against the cool metal of his chest plate. Part of me feels incredibly wimpy hiding behind him, but the part of me in charge of survival instincts says I should be doing more…like, running in the opposite direction, perhaps.

Our horses slow and I try calm my racing heart.

We come to a stop.

“Identify yourself.” Haldir’s voice is always strong, always full of authority, but this is like I’ve never heard it before. It rings with both confidence and the sharp edge of a threat. If this was my first encounter with him, I would be shaking in my boots.

Silence.

I can practically feel the tension in the air.

The stress of not knowing what’s going on, not knowing what I’m facing, adds to my fear. I exhale, gathering my courage. I’m gonna have to look. Leaving myself no time to change my mind, I stretch my head to the side, peeking around Baranor’s shoulder.

And the memories come rushing back.

“Alex,” I breathe, my body feeling hot and cold all at once.

His head snaps from Haldir’s to mine, and the color drains from his face. “Cosima!”

I swing my leg over the horse’s back and jump to the ground. I’ve never gotten off the horse without help, and the force with which I hit the earth sends shocks of pain up my body. I ignore it, pushing myself to meet Alex as he runs towards me. We collide, gripping each other in a tight hug.

“What,” I gasp, pressing my face into the crook of his neck. I burst into tears. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here, what about you?” He pulls back slightly, gripping my arms and looking me over. “Why are you crying, what’s wrong? Have they hurt you?” He sends an accusatory glare at the men behind me.

I follow his gaze, noticing for the first time that Orophin has dismounted and stands near my shoulder, glowering at Alex.

I hurry to set the record straight. “No. No, they’ve been nothing but kind and helpful.” I sniffle, running a sleeve over my cheek. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

He smiles, placing a hand on my neck and pulling me back into a hug. “It’s okay. It’s just the stress.” At his words and the comforting motion of his hand running up and down my back, my tears begin to subside.

I hear the soft sound of boots connecting with dirt and turn just in time to see Haldir striding up to us, falling in line next to Orophin. Like his brother, he sets Alex with a hard, untrusting gaze. “You are traveling alone?”

Alex’s jaw tightens. “You kidnapped my friend?”

I twist out of Alex’s hold, turning so I can keep both him and my companions in view.

Haldir’s expression doesn’t change, he only raises his chin in defiance of Alex’s accusation. “We are elves, guardians of the great realm of Lothlórien, traveling upon invitation to Imladris. We found Cosima alone, like you, and offered her our aid. If, perhaps, you become more cooperative, we would be prepared to extend the same offer to you.”

Alex leans forward and Haldir raises an eyebrow, as if daring him to make a move. Orophin’s weight shifts to his back foot. I angle myself to face Alex, gripping his elbows. “It’s okay, honestly. If it weren’t for them I’d be dead by now. They can help you, too. Just answer their questions.”

Alex continues to glare, but I can see the resolve leave him. He looked peaked, and weak, and dark shadows sit under his hazel eyes. How long has he been here? Would I look like this, if the others hadn’t found me?

“Yes,” he acquiesces. “I’m traveling alone. I woke up on the riverbank three days ago and have been wandering around looking for civilization since. I don’t remember anything before that other than my name—Alexander. Now I remember Cosima too, and my nickname, I guess.”

Baranor slides off his horse, joining us with the bag I recognize as the one keeping his healing supplies. Haldir holds up a hand, stopping Baranor’s approach.

“Two humans that know each other wake up on the bank of the same river on the same day with no memory. One was strange enough, but two?” He looks between me and Alex, eyebrow raised. “Perhaps Elrond can offer insight.”

“Elrond,” Alex questions, his voice guarded once again.

I explain before Haldir and his attitude can. “He’s a friend of theirs in a city across the mountains. That’s where they’re traveling, so it’s where we’re going, too.”

Alex sets me with a look that quite obviously questions my sanity. “You agreed to follow them to another town through the mountains?”

I recoil at his tone, as well as the attack on my common sense. “Yes, I did. Because they’re nice and my only other option was waiting along the riverbank hoping another equally helpful party came along. Because if you haven’t noticed, Alex, there aren’t any cities here. It’s not like I can just walk up to someone’s house and call for help.”

He sighs, running a hand through his unkempt sandy hair. “But you could have waited. I was walking in that direction, I would have found you eventually.”

I throw my hands in the air, actually annoyed now. “There’s no way either of us could have known the other was here! I woke up the same as you did—with nothing. No context, no memories, no supplies. In light of that, I don’t think we’re in the position to be picky when help comes our way. We have to adapt, Alex, and quickly. It won’t end well for us if we don’t.”

His lip curls at my words. I try to soften my tone, knowing we are heading for an argument and that isn’t helpful to anyone right now. “You’re tired. You’ve been wandering for three days, I’m guessing without enough food or rest. Let us help you.”

Alex looks between me and the men behind me. With a start, I realize that I’ve just encountered a long-lost friend, someone quite important to me based on the onslaught of memories, and, to him, it must seem that I’m abandoning him in favor of taking the side of these newcomers. Guilt weighs uncomfortably in my stomach.

“Okay,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’ll go along with this—for now.”

Haldir nods, already walking towards his horse. “We ride until nightfall, then we will stop for food and rest. Be prepared to ride hard. We must make up for the time we lost with all this bickering.” Aside from the usual command in his tone, there’s a note of annoyance. He is so impatient.

I give Alex one last hug, feeling bad for my treatment of him. He’s my only link to my home, the only person here I can really, truly trust. I shouldn’t be at odds with him. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.” He doesn’t respond, only follows me to the horses.

Baranor bends to give me a leg up, but a voice halts us both. “Cosima, you ride with Rumil now. Baranor—keep Alexander on the back of your horse.”

Why? I glance at Haldir in confusion. He eyes me steadily, shaking his head once. I sigh, deciding to go along with it. I give Baranor a small wave of goodbye and join Rumil.

“On to bigger and better things, then?” He winks, kneeling and locking his fingers together.

“Oh, shut up,” I roll my eyes, chuckling as I step into his hands and swing my leg over the horse. He settles in front of me and takes the reins, and, before I know it, this company of five has become a company of six.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make me oh so happy! Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged, try subscribing to the story on Ao3! That will update you automatically when I post there.

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degeneratekitten · 4 years ago

Text

Double Trouble

!!!WARNING!!! Read the tags before continuing. If any of the tags upset you then you probably wont like it when it happens in the story.

I think its fair to say that this is long overdue, I hate leaving people on cliffhangers, but i am very prone to do so. So I posted this, even if its a year late.

Not sure if I’ll be back again, maybe I’ll post a few stories I started on then never finished but who knows. Anyways enjoy the whump.

After Bud popped out his somehow less-evil-than-him twin, you couldn't help but to snatch the outraged coral up for a round of testing. You made sure to scrape up samples, eyes sparkling as the little coral put up a confused struggle.

You ignored Bud’s limp form on the towel, he looked to be in an incredibly rough shape, eyelights wavering, scales a little bloody, and little bits from the bones on his back missing. His mouth was still frothing, and he looked to be wallowing in his own waste, but you hardly noticed as you fluttered around the lab completely dazzled by the spontaneous birth of a fully formed coral.

You of course asked all the typical round of questions to the little thing, utterly fascinated by the asexual reproduction you just witnessed. You were sure that you’d just witnessed a breakthrough in what you were sure was the catalyst for the bitty surge. Their mutation!

You spent hours interacting with the coral, staring at the samples he produced while talking with him. You even ended up making a breakthrough with the treatment for the Brassberries who were still plagued by the growths. You ended up finding out exactly the source of the growths. Their makeup, and exactly why they were lingering on the brassberries where they had formed a complete bitty on Bud.

It turned out that the growths were in themselves a mutated strain of a virus that had taken up magical properties. The original virus seemed to be the cause of asexual reproduction in the original bitties. The virus mutated to start causing bittes to mutate as well, then mutated into this strain to exclusively promote more extreme mutation in bitties. It was searching for new traits or combinations of them to form into full Bitties.The Brassberries did not hold any extreme traits, thus the virus simply formed deady growths on them, whereas Bud seemed to have mutated just enough to create a newer unique bitty.

Even after finally tending to the catatonic Bud you ended up throwing yourself into research, only breaking to eat and use the bathroom. What you found out during this time about the virus and the new coral which you started calling Dub, was amazing.

The coral was incredibly energetic for its breed, finding pleasure in darting around in a manner most edgy types would deem too troublesome to attempt. Even if he was actually “less” violent than most corals, he still got angry, cussing you out and throwing stuff. He did almost bite you, which prompted you to test his venom, which also turned out to be far more potent than a regular corals.

He got angry a lot less than a regular coral,and his triggers were fewer than normal, and where Bud would throw tantrums, the coral would try to find the positives in a situation, and even attempt to work with you. Plus, where Bud was narcissistic this Coral was surprisingly self-aware, he would admit when he went too far, and even apologize for that behavior. A shocking trait for a Coral, yet also dangerous as it was easy to let your guard down after an apology.

He was still incredibly destructive, but he was far less malicious about it than most edgy types, plus the things he destroyed were easily replaceable and not valuable at all. The only time he ever really destroyed something valuable was when he was “clumsy” about it, which surprised you as he really tried to make it seem like he “wasn't” clumsy and was destroying things on purpose. He liked singing, and was incredibly open about wanting to cuddle, and would say he loved you frequently without a tsundere act. He was possibly the most bearable Coral on the planet!

Although he had some pretty surprising good points, he was still an Edgy type. He still tried to bite you, cussed excessively, was violent, was incredibly demanding, wasn't very bright, and enjoyed “marking” as much as Bud. You could say he was an ideal protection type bitty, but really if you were to even sell him he would probably be more dangerous than most Edgy types due to how he could almost seem “pleasant” at times.

Dub was still venomous, was more active than a regular edgy, and could easily trick someone into believing that he “wouldn't” bite you. Hell, you’d almost gotten bitten on the neck earlier when you gave him a hug at his insistence. His reasoning being “Bitch you give awful hugs!”

You had a hard time keeping your guard up around him, as he acted like a Blueberry sometimes only to turn around and try and bite you. During one of those instances you also found out something incredible about him.

“Hey ma… Can we talk?” Dub asked, as he chewed on a piece of meat you’d slathered in mustard as a bribe to let you take more ectoplasmic samples. You’d discovered that bribing him was one way to get him to cooperate, a mark firmly in the blueberry corner.

“Yeah Dub, tell me whatever is bothering you.” You replied, not looking away from the sample, you were noticing some strange growth coming from the samples you took from him, almost as if the virus was still actively trying to form him from the samples. They petered out fairly quickly and stopped their activity but it was still interesting.

“Can we go huntin?” He asked, as he viciously tore at the meat, he was wrapped around it like he was trying to strangle it, but the whole time staring at it like it was doing something wrong.

“When we’re done with tests we can go on a hunt with the other protection bitties, I’m sure you’d love it.” You replied, really he had been rather restless and you were sure to take him out on a hunt sooner rather than later.

Dub ended up glaring at you. “You’re never done with testin tho!” He exclaimed, as he let go of the meat and moved towards you in an aggressive manner.

“I’m BORED! I need some ACTION” He shouted, slapping his mustard covered tail on the table, splattering mustard all over your workspace. Really why you had decided that feeding him in your workspace was beyond you. Nonetheless it irritated you, and you turned to him with a frown.

“I’ve been giving you plenty of exercise! We play tag with the fluffies after we eat! Why can't you do that for a little bit while I finish up? It won’t be much longer now, you just have to be patient.” You stated, watching as Dub shook his head violently, and continued to argue.

“You’re a lyin bitch! We been testin for so long! I haven't even seen outside yet!” He argued, and you supposed he had a point, but it's really what he did next that pushed your buttons.

“I WANNA HUNT!” He screamed, before taking the samples you had just taken and throwing them off the table! “TAKE ME HUNTING NOW YA STUPID SLUT!” He cursed, baring his teeth and looking as if he was going to lunge at you.

You didn't give him enough time to lunge though, as soon as he bared his teeth as you, you panicked and punted him off the table as hard as you could. You heard a loud “thwack” as he collided with the wall, and more cursing.

“FUCK YOU BITCH! THAT FUCKIN HUUUUUUUURT!” He sounded close to tears, but was even now attempting to stand up. Eyes wide, you quickly put on your handling gloves and ran over, checking over his mustard covered form for damage. His skull was cracked, but that was about it, and he looked at you with tear filled eyes, and you could swear he was trying to look cute so you wouldn't hurt him more. But really what ended up catching your attention was the fact that without any monster candy, or even healing magic, the cracks in his skull were closing all on their own.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared in wonder at the closing cracks, they closed up in a manner of seconds.

“Wow.” You ended up breathing out, before poking at the place where the cracks used to be. The coral in response bit your gloved hand, but seeing as you were wearing thick gloves, it really had no effect, even as he tried to bite harder.

Staring at him, (not at all irritated at his attempt to kill you, you swear) your curiosity ended up getting the better of you, and you ended up slamming the little coral into the wall again, cracking his skull once again, then quickly pulling the bitty to yourself and purposely prying open the crack as far as you could get it.

‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN! STOP! WE CAN TALK BOUT THIS!” The coral screamed as you practically split his skull in two. You got a glimpse of what his eyelights looked like through the crack, before you ‘accidentally’ completely detached the right side of the top of his skull.

Surprisingly the detached bit persisted for a few minutes, and you were utterly shocked with how long it lasted without turning to dust. Furthermore, you were shocked that Dub immediately started to regenerate, instead of dusting himself.

You held Dub like he was a treasure as you stared utterly captivated with his amazing regenerative capabilities. A laugh ended up bubbling up from your chest, and you ended up hugging Dub to your chest as you laughed. Of course the difference in attitudes ended up stalling him, and he ended up drooling all over your lab coat as you praised him, telling him how he was the greatest discovery since electricity.

----

After squealing for a little while, all thoughts of hunting completely left your mind, you instead locked Dub up in an enclosure while he cried about his headaches, and started writing about his capabilities. You were planning on researching exactly what kind of mutation he had, then once you had enough data you would see if you could somehow start breeding him with other bitties to pass on such a valuable trait.

You could only imagine what kind of bitty you could end up creating if only you were skilled enough in programming. You had millions of bitty design ideas that you could only dream of coming to fruition. Sadly the closest you would ever get to an ideal bitty was if you bred one. Dub himself was only a first step on that path.

You decided that first you needed to see if you could create another Bitty like Dub from Bud. So you ended up dragging Bud downstairs, kicking and screaming, and ended up feeding him a sample of the growths he fell into before. You saw what you were hoping for, and just like before, with enough shocks and emotional strain, you had another fully formed coral.

You were thrilled to discover that the second coral also had the same regenerative capabilities, and wasted no time in beginning your stress tests. In the end you decided that you would use Dub for the more tame testing, but as for the second coral, well you needed to know exactly what could kill this type, so you were strapping in for some brutal testing.

Everything started off tame enough. You took more samples of course, before having the both of them go through an obstacle course. There was plenty of cursing, Dub himself was so incensed with you and your testing that he simply refused to participate unless you kept true to your word and took him hunting. You ended up giving in to that request if only to obtain a set of data that you couldn't obtain in the lab, you ended up taking the other coral as well, and observed the both of them literally tearing themselves apart in their pursuit of the hunt. It seemed that they did not have poisonous venom anymore, instead they had paralytics. Which resulted in them using their exceptional stamina and irritating nature to coax more aggressive prey into chasing them long enough to either literally snap the bitties in half or have the prey collapse immobile but still aware due to the paralytics. After which they would wait for their bodies to regenerate and gorge themselves on their prey, live. You yourself ended up having to finish off their prey as they ate, which resulted in intense screaming on their part, something about ruining their fun. It was startling to say the least.

You gained many insights from this exercise. One being that the new corals were surprisingly well aware of their own abilities, as if they knew even without having to be told what they could do. The second being that they fell very firmly in the “protection” variety. Although at this point you debated on whether or not you should continue using “protection” as their classification, it was originally coined for marketing purposes but as the years went by it was just dangerous to call them anything less than hunters.

Of course after securing and storing the prey the corals had obtained you waste no time in taking them right back to the lab. They were satisfied enough with their work and cooperated fairly well with you afterwards. You knew that wouldn't last very long though, as what you had planned wasn't exactly pleasant.

You started with testing their magic. You didn't know how much these bitties could do, you gave them magical gauges, to measure their resting potential. Much like humans, bitties could increase their magic proficiency through absorbing it through places of power or artifacts but they always started with a baseline for magic at around the same place. These bitties had a slightly higher capacity for magic, but it turned out to be negligible in the long run. They could not use magic.

Next was the strength testing. You ended up testing their bite strength first, using a special tool, then their grip strength, and finally followed by the grip strength of their tails. It all ended up coming out at the average for Corals, much to your disappointment.

The next test involved their speed, it was the final test for the day, and to make sure you got the best results you ended up using what could essentially be called Bitty catnip to coerce the two corals into competing. You dangled a singular piece of mustard flavored magic treats in their faces and told them to race. You ended up setting up a small track for them to cover. You also stipulated that they were “Not to sabotage each other.” You’d made the mistake of not stipulating such a thing before, to say it was messy was an understatement. In the end the two of them tied, and the candy was split in half between the two. They were exhausted from the day's tests, and you needed them in tip top shape for the tests tomorrow. So you ended up patting them on the head, telling them they did good, and leaving them in their respective enclosures for the night.

The very next day though, you ended up setting up a longer course, or rather, you took the second coral to the track that you use for horses, a good circular track that didn't actually have an end with markings for distance.

“Ok little one, today I need you to keep running no matter what.” You smiled at the second coral as he stared at you, frowning.

“Wadya mean?” He asked, staring at the track with suspicion.

You took out a small collar and fastened it around the bitties neck, it was tight enough to press directly against the bitties neck while loose enough that it could move up and down. It was quite obviously a shock collar, a miniature version meant for bitties, with a little tweak.

The secondary coral batted away at the collar, wrestling with you to try and get it off, before ending up giving up and sending you a glare instead.

“The fucks this stupid thing for?” He glowered, baring his teeth as you set him down at the beginning of the track and pulled out a little remote control.

“It's something new I made after realizing I needed some more physical motivation for you little guys. It's brand new, and honestly I don't know any better specimen to try it on than a little coral who can regenerate from everything.” You smirked at the coral, as he seemed to shrink a little bit at your look.

“Now, like I said before, I need you to run, and if you stop, I’ll have to punish you.” You stated, waving the controller in his face.

“Fuck you!” The little edgy spat before crossing his arms and turning his little back on you.

Shaking your head, you turned the dial on the 8 setting before pressing a little red button underneath.

You looked down at the little coral watching as it seemed to flop over in a little convulsion, his eyelights started to flicker and foam started dripping from his mouth.

“FUUUUU---UuuuuuuUUUUCkkk!” He buzzed out, voice wavering from the shock.

The shock lasted for about 10 seconds, but the little coral looked like it had completely fried him. He looked at you in shock before you smiled down viciously at him, and pointed at the track.

“Whenever you stop running I’ll turn the shock up, this dial goes all the way up to 50, and can even take down a bear on that setting.” You watched the coral look at you in horror as you pointed in the direction he was supposed to run.

“Now get moving, or the next shock I set will be worse.” You stated.

“Fuck you bitch I ain’t doing shit!” He screeched at you, flopping down on the ground and thrashing around like a toddler.

“You can’t fuckin make me!” He screamed, right at you turned the dial up to 9 and pressed the button. You held the button down for about 20 seconds that time, watching the coral freeze up in shock foaming more at the mouth as you let the shock continue.

“AAAAAAAAhhhhh!” He screeched, and as soon as the shock subsided he looked at you with tear filled eyes. “Momma please! Don’t hurt me anymore!” He started begging, and started to slither towards you, with a tear streaked and snotty face.

“Start running then.” You stated simply a little disturbed by the fact that the coral had called you momma instead of mom, or even bitch, a testament to his mixed nature. The blueberry was showing itself off right here.

The coral started to blubber harder, and didn't even notice when you turned the dial up once more to 10. “P-lllll-leaaaaaase! Momma! I Don’t wanna run that track!” He begged as he inched closer to your leg.

You kicked him away, sending him flying towards the track and pressing the button while the little coral was midair. He screeched loudly, voice wavering as he fell, and simply lay there, stiff as a board and foaming from his mouth.

“I said. Start. Running!” You shouted one more time, finger poised over the button as you stared the coral straight in the eyes.

He listened that time, making his way to the track and slithering off at top speed on the track, he was still crying as he ran, and his ugly snotty foamed up face made him look like a cherry rather than a coral. Really if it wasn't for the gold tooth you would swear that he was a cherry.

You started the timer as soon as he crossed the starting line, watching him slither at top speed like a moron. You weren't exactly inclined to inform him that he would tire himself out more by using up all of his energy at the beginning. You were looking to determine just how far he could be pushed before he collapsed.

He passed you 3 times on the track at top speed, a mark firmly in the “hunting” variety, as you’d resolved to start calling them. You did have to turn the dial up at every pass though, as he’d taken to screaming obscenities at you at the stop, demanding to go home, or have chicken nuggies as a reward for “good behavior.” The speed he was going at was taking its toll, as he was already starting to show signs of fatigue. It was slightly above average for a hunting variety, but endurance wise it wasnt looking good.

By lap 5, he was sweating, by lap 7 he was moving at the pace he should have been moving at from the start. You had to shock him at the halfway mark on lap 7, and once more at the start of 8. The shock ended up at 19, at which point you could smell burning magic as he passed, an observation you wrote down in a separate journal in regards to the collar.

He made it to the lap 12 before he collapsed in front of you, panting, tear stained cheeks, and a sticky dirt covered tail painting a sorry picture. He weakly looked at you, pleading silently for a break, before you shook your head, and turned up the dial this time to 23. The level had been slowly rising with each lap, since he didn't seem to get the memo that cursing after each lap only brought more pain. Although this time since he was so exhausted he wasn't cursing, just trying to look cute.

Seeing you turn up the dial, he let out a weak sob, before getting a move on at a glacial pace. He was almost crawling this time, as he wobbled back and forth on his run. You knew this was the lap he would collapse, so you took to following him this time, ready to mark down the exact distance he stopped at.

It wasn't common knowledge that bitties tended to dust at extreme exhaustion, no one liked to test them to their limits But it was still an established fact, the question was whether or not this kind would dust as well.

He reached the quarter mark of the track before he stopped again, breathing heavily, face flushed red with magic. A sign that he was on the verge of extreme exhaustion. You simply wrote down your observation, and kept the button in sight of the mutant coral, causing the bitty to widen his eyes and begin slithering again a little faster than before.

You could hear his sounds of distress, a surprising amount of dry sobs wracking his little body as he went along. His face only getting redder as time passed, his magic running rampant. He reached the halfway mark before he collapsed once again, panting so heavily that you “almost” felt empathy for him.

“You can’t stop yet.” You said, pressing the button, and watching as red smoke curled upwards from the collar. You smelt cigarettes, and mustard in the air. The bitty sobbed even louder, babbling incoherently as he attempted to use his arms to crawl further, which you supposed you could allow.

He managed to crawl the rest of the distance to the starting point, before he smiled in satisfaction and closed his eyes. You wrote down the result, before shocking the bitty awake. This wouldn't stop just because he was tired. He woke, screaming and staring at you with shock and horror.

“Keep going.” You stated, as you watched him sob wordlessly and attempt to crawl further.

He kept stopping, and each time you turned up the shock, although eventually you ended up having to stop his shocks at 25. Turning the dial up to 26 caused magic to pop on his tail, roasting him alive faster than he already was. The only thing that saved him at that moment was that his regeneration was “still” at full capacity, healing any wounds instantly. You would have kept turning up the dial but since it affected the results of your experiment, you supposed that 25 would be the limit.

He kept crawling, until the edges of his fingers started to dust, and the red flush on his body started to literally burn him. You didn't let him stop. He lapped once more, before his little body literally started to explode. Horrifyingly, not killing him, as even while his body was malfunctioning his healing was not. In fact it seemed to go into overdrive.

The popping of his body sounded like firecrackers as the magic rampaged, you could see dust piling up on the ground. Eventually the magic caused more dramatic effects.

His arm exploded into dust, only for it to regenerate right where it had been, then explode once more.

Ecto flesh had involuntarily started to form, a little belly forming before melting off in searing hot magic, only to form again and boil off.

His tail wasn't any better, as the scales fell off repeatedly, before forming again.

His skull was the same as his arms, but for some reason he kept trying to pop off his own skull with his disintegrating hands.

He screamed, then stopped, popping his own vocal mechanism and spitting out dust, before coughing as they regenerated only to pop again. He seemed to be in eternal agony, unable to die painlessly as his own body malfunctioned. The only way it seemed he would die is if he ran out of magic.

“Momma! Please! Help me!” He shouted, and you almost did, before stopping yourself. The data was far too valuable, you ‘had’ to know just how long this would last. So instead you sat by him and timed his death. This wasn't exactly the first time you’d seen a bitty die from exhaustion, but it was the first time you’d seen them recover repeatedly from it.

The whole ordeal lasted for about 10 minutes, like a candle burning down to the last bit of its wick, it petered out slowly. The regeneration slowed down, longer intervals came between regenerated limbs, yielding deformed bones that curled in odd places as they popped like firecrackers while reforming.

His skull became just a small mouth as his eyes melded closed, his screams changing pitch as his vocal mechanism changed with repeated regeneration. His tail stopped regenerating, leaving only the tailbone, while his melted ecto flesh bubbled ominously as it formed restraints around his deformed arms.

Dust started becoming a part of the regeneration, forming little pockets that burst like pus from his skull, into an ever growing pile of dust.

Eventually the screaming stopped, and his tail stopped regenerating along with his arms, leaving a strange mass of crooked ribs and the back of a skull as his little red ai flickered before dissolving in a fizzle of red sparks.

The air reeked of cigarettes, burnt mustard, and burnt flesh, while magic swirled thickly in a red fog on the ground. You stopped your timer, and let out a shaky breath as you stared at the large pile of dust as it caught fire from the fizzle of magic and became ashes in the wind.

To say it was the most gruesome death you’d ever seen was an understatement. You almost thought it wasn't worth repeating as an experiment.

Almost.

#bitty death #bitty abuse #bitty torture #exhaustion #burning alive #mutant coral #edgy bitty #lamia bitty

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geralt-of-baevia · 5 years ago

Text

Happenstance

Summary: Henry is about to go to bed one night when he suddenly gets a text from a random number he doesn’t know. What happens when you accidentally text the star actor of The Witcher? Memes apparently. Lots and lots of memes.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Lizzy Moore)

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: None...yet! Just some fluffy flirting. Well okay and lots of mention of his crotch? 😬😘

A/N: So I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my brain for a LONG time and finally pulled the trigger and wrote it! It’s in texting format, and I hope you like it! This is my first time posting fan fiction on here so I’m nervous and excited!

Beta: Thank you to @avengeful-bunny for being my AMAZING beta. I don’t know what I would do without you. 💛💛💛

Tagging: I’m going to tag all those whose work has inspired me to write and post my work! Much love to ALL of you! @littlefreya @dancingwendigo @mary-ann84 @yespolkadotkitty @viking-raider @cavillhoney

Part 1: Oops.

(405:) God, girl. You will not BELIEVE the day I had. I'm pretty sure I lost a pint of blood today from how many times I stabbed myself sewing.

(405:)

(Henry:) You should probably get a thimble for that.

(Henry:) Also, I do believe you have the wrong number. Considering you started the text off with 'girl' and I am quite the opposite. But even so, please spill the tea. I’m dying to know about this UNBELIEVABLE day you’ve had.

(Henry:)

(405:) Oh my god, MR. CAVILL I AM soooo SO SO SORRY. I must have accidentally clicked on your name and not my friend's name.

(405:) I feel really awkward having your number when you don’t have mine. Do you want me to delete it? Just to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Also so some random crew member doesn’t have your number?

(Henry:) Oh god, please call me Henry. There’s no need for such formalities. And it’s fine, there’s no need to delete it. Since you mentioned crew and sewing, I'm assuming you work for the costuming department?

(Henry:) Also, I have your number now, don't I? :P

(405:) By it’s fine do you mean this kind of fine?

(405:)

(Henry:) Oh no, it’s LITERALLY fine. I promise.

(Henry:)

(405:) But to answer your question, yes! I work for the costuming department. I’m newer, so I get to do the usual stuff. Mostly just lots of mending at the moment. And JUST TO BE CLEAR, I won't do anything to abuse this number since you're Henry Cavill.

(405:) And you’re Henry Cavill. Also you are my co-worker, my I’m assuming super rich, god tier co-worker that I’m not supposed to make eye contact with nevermind TEXT.

(Henry:)

(Henry:) But yes, my name is Henry. Please keep my number, we’re coworkers after all, it’s normal for coworkers to have each other’s numbers. Have we met on set before?

(405:) We have once or twice, just in passing mostly. Once I brought you clothes to your trailer.

(Henry:) Are you the one with the brown and pink hair?

(405:) That's me. :)

(Henry:) Don't tell me your name, I know what it is.

(405:) Are you sure about that? You don't seem too confident :P

(Henry:) I know it starts with an E. Is it Eloise? Eleanor? I know it was something old fashioned, too.

(405:) Man, you're so close. I mean, kind of. Think of historical dead English queens. Like, for example you were best friends with her dad. You were a fancy Duke who was good with the sword and ladies. Also, I’m sorry, aren’t you supposed to be a big nerd?

(Henry:) ELIZABETH!

(Henry:) And I am a HUGE nerd thank you very much.

(Elizabeth:) Yes, that's my name haha. Also, whoa whoa, settle down there cowboy.

(Elizabeth:) And it’s just Lizzy, with a Y. The thought of spelling it with an IE makes me cringe.

(Lizzy:)

(Henry:) Pretty much everyone? Who doesn't call you Lizzy?

(Lizzy:) My dad, my grandma, my teachers, my victims, my doctor, the one girl in high school who hated me.

(Henry:) Haha that's quite the list there Lizzy Borden. I think it’s your turn to settle down. :P

(Henry:) Well then Lizzy with a Y, it's nice to finally talk to you, even though it's over text.

(Henry:) So I have to ask, I take it they were cracking the whip pretty hard in wardrobe today?

(Lizzy:) You know, I was doing what I thought was a pretty damn good job of avoiding that subject.

(Henry:) Nope, you can't slip past me. This brain is like an iron trap.

(Lizzy:) If you MUST know...

(Henry:) I really do. I'm sitting on the edge of my seat in anticipation.

(Henry:)

(Lizzy:) Okay well that just sounds sarcastic. I don't HAVE to tell you... :P

(Lizzy:) I'm kidding, kidding. Well, since you MUST know, I spent at least half of my day mending clothes, particularly the crotch of multiple pairs of your pants. Also a few pairs had the butt blown out.

(Henry:) The crotch?

(Lizzy:) Yes, the CROTCH OF YOUR PANTS HENRY. :P Honestly I'm used to it at this point though. It's not the first time, or I'm assuming the last, that I'll have to mend the crotch of your pants. It’s not your fault the studio wants you in tighter fitting clothes that can show off how muscular you are. It’s just my job to fix it. ;)

(Henry:) I guess I never really thought about who it was having to mend them when that happens.

(Lizzy:) And it’s not just your crotch area I mend, it’s your inseams as well. I think your thighs got a little bigger since the initial fitting. :P

(Lizzy:) And yes, us little people taking care of you famous movie stars, making sure you stay looking like the heartthrob you are. Since that is your job and all. :P

(Henry:) Hey now, I’m more than just a pretty face. You make me sound like a talentless hack. But thank you. For your sake I'll try and not blow out any more seams, especially the crotch.

(Lizzy:) You don't need to thank me, it's literally my job. ;)

(Lizzy:) I mean, if your muscles didn’t rip through clothing on a regular basis I’d be out of a job! How rude.

(Henry:) Well I mean in that case I COULD make it a habit. ;)

(Lizzy:) All I have to say is I’m SO glad we don’t have to worry about shirt buttons on you during this. I’ve seen the stress you put on buttons during press junkets. The anxiety I feel, Henry. So much anxiety.

(Lizzy:)

(Henry:) Yeah, those shirts never seem to fit my chest right. I taught myself how to sew buttons on my shirts so I could stop asking others to help.

(Lizzy:) Okay, the fact that you taught yourself how to sew on buttons because it’s a CONTINUING issue is both hilarious and adorable. :P

(Henry:)

(Henry:) So I’m curious about something, costume wise.

(Lizzy:) Yes? I’m sure I can answer, costume wise. ;)

(Henry:) How long does it take to sew together a shirt from scratch?

(Lizzy:) Well, it all depends on the type of shirt, and what it’s for. For the sake of film, there are so many steps. Design, pattern making, grading, construction, fitting. That’s just a fraction of it. It’s a very long process.

(Lizzy:) But if I was at home making a shirt for a friend, I could do it start to finish in a couple of hours. They're not hard. I can sew them together in my sleep.

(Henry:) A few HOURS? That's amazing.

(Lizzy:) Eh, it's what I went to school for. ;) It’s not that impressive to me.

(Henry:) Well, to me it is at least. ;)

(Lizzy:)

(Henry:)

(Henry:) Unfortunately, it's time for me to go to bed. I have an early call time in the morning.

(Lizzy:) You're going to bed at 6 in the evening? I’m assuming you have a super crazy call time? One time I had a call time of 1 am because there were things that had to be fixed by the time you and Anya got to set at 4 am. Although it does have it’s advantages. I get to have the first pick of craft services, and sunrises are always nice to watch.

(Lizzy:) But I’m sorry, that sucks. :(

(Henry:) Some days it does, especially when I can't seem to fall asleep. But today was exhausting so I don't think I'll have any issues tonight. Plus Kal has been extra cuddly tonight so I definitely won’t have any issues.

(Lizzy:) Well then, I guess this is where we say goodnight. I hope you sleep well. :)

(Henry:) Thank you. I hope you do, too. Hopefully tomorrow will involve less bleeding onto garments. ;P

(Lizzy:) Haha, I mean it really doesn’t matter. If anything it makes the garment just look THAT much more legit. I hope you have a good day on set tomorrow. :)

(Henry:) Thank you. It was really nice talking to you Lizzy. I hope we talk more again soon. :)

(Lizzy:) It was nice talking to you, too. And I would really like that. :)

(Lizzy:) Goodnight, Henry. :)

(Henry:) Goodnight Lizzy. Sleep well. :)

#henry cavill #geralt of rivia #the man from uncle #the witcher #tmfu #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fc #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill witcher #fanfic #henrycavillfanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henrycavillxreader

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

The Truck - ep. 08 - Georgia

Summary: You stop by on break to visit Daryl at the auto shop. The Jeep is almost done being repaired.

A/N: I think basically I’m writing an even slower burn than last time.

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“I think ya ain’t as smart as ya tell me ya are,” Daryl joked as he caught sight of you walking into Dale’s Autobody shop, still in your uniform from the diner. Three days after Christmas and you’d been working as many hours as Patricia would give you. Both you and your mom trying to stay away from the house and each other as much as possible.

“I most definitely am. Why?” You asked, ducking your head down into the car he was working on when he sat down in the front seat. A newer model Nissan he’d been cursing since the owner brought it in.

“Cause I tell ya all the time not ta come in here and where are ya?” He asked, looking over at you.

“It’s not my fault, Axel said you said you’re almost done my baby.” You teased. Axel had told you over ordering his lunch that Daryl had mentioned to T-Dog that he was nearly done the work on the Jeep. Took a while, he had lamented, but he was finally, almost done. “Heard you’re glad to be rid of me.”

“Ain’t what I said,” he replied, “said I was glad ta be rid a that fucking jeep. Pain in my ass.”

“Now I know you’re talking about me.”

Daryl’s expression changed for a brief second, eyes fixing on the faint pink lines on your cheek. Barely noticeable but they hadn’t been there before Christmas. “What happened?” He tapped his finger against the same spot on his face to indicate what he was asking about.

“Just a cat scratch. Hershel’s got a couple to keep the mice away and I couldn’t resist trying to pet one.”

“They’re nasty creatures…yer lucky he didn’t take yer whole face off.” He replied, climbing back out of the car again. “Ya on break?”

You shook your head, “I picked up a shift from Amy, I got an hour to kill before I start for her.”

“Ain’t I lucky.”

“So, is my car really almost fixed?” You asked. You pulled the rolling stool over from the work bench and sat down, spinning once.

“Just about.” He replied.

Daryl hated to admit it but he’d been dragging his feet on the project and when he realized that he was nearing completion and your car would be fixed he was half tempted to break it all over again. Sure, you liked stopping in now, chatting him up before or after a shift, bumming rides, showing up at his house to spend your afternoons sitting under the car park. But once the car was fixed you wouldn’t need him to entertain you anymore. You could go to your friends houses or anywhere really, but you didn’t have to hang out with him. He wasn’t going to tell you yet but he’d let it slip to T-Dog and once one of them knew they practically broadcast it.

“You working late?” You asked, wheeling yourself over next to him.

“Why, ya don’t know anyone else with a car?”

“Why bother them when I have you?” You tilted your head back to look up at him and smile. You looked like a little kid with your eyes closed and a smile wide enough that he could see all your teeth.

He rolled his eyes at you and reached over, swiping his greasy finger down your nose and making you jump suddenly at the contact. Your eyes opened and you slid back against the car. “Careful ya don’t scratch her.”

“Did you rub grease on my nose!” You whined, trying to rub it off with the back of your hand but only making more of a mess.

Daryl shrugged, “ain’t nice ta tease.”

“Do you have a bathroom here?”

He pointed toward the back of the shop and you got up, headed for the bathroom to wipe the grease off your face.

In truth Daryl wasn’t the only one who wasn’t looking forward to the car being fixed. Your throat felt like it dropped into your stomach when Axel told you that Daryl was almost finished the car. It sent you thinking...if Daryl told Axel did that mean he was glad it was almost finished? Was he looking forward to having you out of his hair finally? You scrubbed the grease off your face and frowned at your reflection. You didn’t want this to end.

“So, ya need a ride later?” Daryl asked once you came out of the bathroom.

“Yeah if you don’t mind.” You replied.

“Nah,” he shrugged as if he was indifferent toward driving you home, “ain’t got nothing better ta do.”

You hung around a little while longer before you headed back to the diner for work. The whole night you felt distracted by Axel’s news from earlier. You were desperate to get some advice from Maggie but there wasn’t much she could offer, Glenn didn’t need any persuading to be madly in love with her. They’d been together since the 6th grade winter dance and there was no doubt in your mind that nothing, not even Hershel’s stupid rules, could keep them apart.

Glenn and Maggie were the exception to the rule. Daryl wasn’t tripping over himself to profess his love for you. Half the time you weren’t even totally sure that he liked you. There were glimpses of something that might’ve been something but trust you to choose someone so hard to read. You spent the whole dinner rush trying to think up less costly ways to spend time with him that wouldn’t annoy him or make him feel like you were some stupid kid. The word kid alone was not necessarily something you wanted him to associate with you.

The idea sparked when he pulled up outside at the end of your shift, parking his truck by the door. You ignored Lori’s comment about Dixon’s being bad news. She ‘went to school with him’ and somehow that had made her the only reputable source on him, at least in her mind. Coupled with the fact that it was Daryl driving you home you were just happy to be done work.

“I hate the dinner rush,” you complained as you pulled the door shut and leaned against the seat. “This lady bitched me out over the table having a mark in it, meanwhile her kids were dunking every fucking sugar packet, jam packet, and salt packet into their cups of water and then splashing them all over the table!”

“Musta really boiled yet blood if it’s got ya cursing.”

“I can curse.”

“I’m sure ya can.” He teased.

You pouted, arms crossed over your chest as you slumped in the seat and Daryl reached over, jabbing you gently with his fingers against your side when he stopped at a streetlight. You laughed from the sudden sensation and pushed his hand away.

“I’m not allowed to curse at home but I can curse.” You insisted and he only shook his head, smiling.

“Think yer a little too sweet ta be hanging around me.”

“Nonsense. I like hanging out with you.” You replied, “which reminds me-“

“Yeah, what now?”

“How would you feel about teaching me some basic car stuff? I don’t know anything about cars and I’d really like to learn.”

It was the plan that had finally occurred to you halfway through your shift. You didn’t know the first thing about changing oil or fixing a tire. Hell, you couldn’t even fill it with air if you wanted to.

“Yer dad never teach ya how ta handle a car?”

“No, I don’t even know how to put windshield washer in it.”

“A’right, I’ll teach ya. After I finish working on yer car.” He replied. You had only been considering yourself when you formulated your master plan but Daryl couldn’t help the brief flutter of excitement that he felt thinking you’d decided to ask him to help. Even if it was just so you could navigate the basics it still meant that you would willingly be spending more time with him.

“Seriously?” You asked, smiling over at him.

“Yeah, why not? Ya should know how ta fix yer car.” He replied, “simple stuff…still gotta make money.”

“I might get so good I’ll steal your business.” You replied.

“Sure ya could.” He pulled up where he always did, your house visible from his spot parking along the sidewalk. It was dark, just the post lantern by the front of the driveway on. “Yer parents ain’t home?” No cars were in the driveway.

“My mom’s already left for work.” You shrugged, opening the door to the truck.

“She be gone all night?”

“I can stay by myself, promise.” You laughed to make a joke of it but you usually spent the night in the living room, talking to Tara or Maggie until they eventually went to sleep. You hated being home alone.

“I ain’t got anywhere ta be.” Daryl shrugged, offering some company.

“You don’t mind staying?”

The inside of your house was exactly what Daryl had expected. A far cry from the worn down, dirty home that he lived in with his father, this was pristine. As if no one had ever sat on the furniture or lived in the house. There weren’t any family pictures but there was Christian art in its place. Tasteful, Martha Stewart-esque Christmas decorations were highlighted through out the living room and kitchen, both spotless.

Daryl pulled a face at the décor at you laughed, “my mom went on a pier one kick a few years ago trying to outdo the Walshs.”

“Can’t complain, it’s nicer than mine ever was.” He replied, looking over the table top tree, “yer dad at work too?”

“No. I mean, he’s away. Visiting family.” You said, heading into the kitchen, “my mom works overnight at the hospital, she’s been doing a lot doubles lately though. I’ll be right out, I’m gonna change!”

Daryl nodded but didn’t say anything, flicking on the rest of the living room lights to get a better look at the room. The only pictures that weren’t nature landscapes or birds were on the mantle. A church directory photo of you and your parents from this year and your senior portrait, the traditional black off the shoulder look with a rose in your hand.

“I hate that picture,” you complained as you came back into the room. “I look hideous.”

“Don’t think that’s possible but I ain’t gonna argue.” Daryl replied. “Least I ain’t the only one who don’t have family pictures up.”

“My mom hates candid pictures. She’d never hang them up.” You settled on the couch and watched as Daryl walked back to the door to kick his shoes off. “I don’t have beer but there’s soda in the fridge.”

“I ain’t ever drinking beer ‘round you again. Yer a terrible influence. Ain’t Glenn Hershel should be worried ‘bout.” Daryl teased, coming over to sit beside you.

“What? No! I am not a bad influence!” You laughed, “I’ve never done anything wrong in my whole life.”

“I been witness to a few things.”

“No one will believe you.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He said, thinking briefly that no one would even believe he was here right now, sitting your house with you while you clicked through channels. He’d be hard pressed to convince them that you had even bummed a cigarette off him, especially if they saw the sweet looking church photo of you with your parents.

“So what kind of car things will you teach?” You asked, ignoring the channel you’d chosen and turning more toward Daryl.

“What kinda car things ya need ta learn?”

“Everything but how to drive?” You replied, biting your lip.

“Well I ain’t seen ya drive so I can’t cross it off the list just yet.”

“I’m a good driver.”

“Yeah? You working tomorrow morning?” He asked, looking back toward the TV.

“No, I’ve got off.”

“Alright, I gotta pick up my check in Woodbury, I’ll let you drive me for once.”

“In my Jeep?”

“Hell no, ya ain’t getting in that thing ‘fore it’s fixed. You can drive the truck.” He replied. The truck was his brother Merle’s originally but Merle was in jail and he hadn’t spent the last three years fixing every inch of it to have it running like new. It might’ve been Merle’s to begin with but that old Chevy was Daryl’s pride and joy. He didn’t let anyone get behind the wheel, not even Rick or T-Dog, but he was offering it up to you.

“I’ll be the best driver you’ve ever seen.”

Taglist: @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @qrangr @twdeadfanfic @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @alwaysadreamingoptimist @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @cathwritestragediesnotsins @siren-queen03

#georgia series #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon au #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fic #the walking dead fanfiction #The Walking Dead AU #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd au #twd fanfic #twd imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #collecting stories imagine

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hopelikethemoon · 5 years ago

Text

maybe (Javier x Reader)

shoutout to @baar-ur who asked for this incredibly angsty prompt

Title: maybe Rating: PG-13 (language and allusions to sex) Warning: Lots of language, name-calling, miscommunication, everyone’s an asshole, ANGST, so much angst, pregnant!reader

You had been in a lot of difficult situations throughout the course of your career — shootouts, drug busts, asshole bosses paired with the government’s blind eye towards rampant sexism in the workplace. You had faced a lot of shit, but none of it had prepared you for the fallout of sleeping with your partner.

It all started the weekend after Escobar died. Murphy announced he was heading back to America now that the hunt for Escobar was finished taking both you and Javier by surprise. Escobar hadn’t been the only narcos on the DEA’s radar and you had both anticipated that he’d stay on to go after the next cartel. It was Javier’s idea to have a going away party for Steve, but in the end it was less about the party and more about you and Javi closing out the bar at two in the morning. Murphy and Connie left at a reasonable hour, leaving the two of you to drink your cares away.

Without Murphy there as a buffer, you and Javier were fucked. Literally.

As you stood in your bathroom, staring at your towel-clad reflection in the mirror, the irony wasn’t lost on you. This whole mess had started in a bathroom and now, as you stood with a pregnancy test sitting on your bathroom sink, it was becoming a reality in a bathroom too. Nothing good ever came to fruition in a bathroom.

Just last week, Javier had been bragging with one of the newer agents about having to bang another hooker-informant. What happened between the two of you had meant nothing and with each passing day of awkward glances and short conversations, you realized Murphy had been the glue holding your friendship together.

You and Javier were nothing but partners and fucking him had ruined any chance of being friends. Now a positive pregnancy test would ruin any chance of remaining partners with him.

For a week you debated whether or not you would even tell him. It was none of his business really — you’d be fine if the entire department thought some wayward one night stand had knocked you up. But the guilt of keeping him in the dark eventually ate at you. You had to tell him, regardless of his reaction.

The worst-case scenario would be that he wanted to get reassigned a new partner and given how awkward he’d made things since Murphy’s going away party — you wouldn’t actually be against it. A little distance would probably do you some good.

It was probably a mistake to tell him while he was driving.

He’d actually been in a decent mood as the pair of you set out to stake out the house of one of the cartel members. The whole morning had felt like you were walking through a vivid waking dream. Hell, you hardly even remembered a word your boss had said during the briefing.

You slid into the passenger seat beside Javier and stared at him as he pushed his aviator’s up the bridge of his nose, watching his mouth as he silently sang along to whatever was playing over the car’s grainy radio.

He’d been in a good mood right up until the moment you said—

“I’m pregnant.”

Javier’s foot hit the break a little too harshly at the next red light, his fingers curling tightly around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“Why are you telling me?”

You pushed your fingers through your hair and stared out the window to your right. “Why do you think I’m telling you?”

He slammed his fist into the center of the steering wheel, the car horn making you nearly jump out of your skin. “Goddammit.” He hissed out as he drove the car down an alley and put it into park.

“I’m keeping it.” You told him quietly. “With or without you.”

He pulled his aviators off and tossed them onto the dashboard. You watched as he dragged his hands over his face, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, before he turned his anger in your direction. “Were you going to fucking tell me? It’s been three fucking months since Murphy fucked off back to the states.Three months!”

“I wanted to tell you sooner,” You started, keeping your voice steady. “But I didn’t know how you’d react.” Your brows rose upwards as you met his heated gaze. “You’ve been a real jackass ever since that night. This,” You gestured to the current situation. “is about what I expected.”

“No shit.” Javier snapped. “You should’ve fucking told me sooner.”

“So I could subject myself to this sooner?” You questioned, your own anger boiling to the surface. “I mean, I guess I could’ve pulled you aside last week after you got done telling Tom about the hooker you’d fucked. But that seemed like a bro moment and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

The color seemed to drain out of his face as he stared at you. The silence was more unnerving than his shouting. “You weren’t there when I woke up.”

You swallowed thickly as you held his gaze. “Did you want me to be there? I mean I know you, Javi. I know how you operate.” You shook your head. “I left to spare myself the awkward morning after.”

He sank back against his seat, hitting his head against the headrest twice before he finally found his words. “You can sit there and call me a jackass all you want, but you’ve been a bitch to me ever since that night. I tried. I fucking tried.”

“You tried?” You laughed harshly, shaking your head. “How the fuck did you try, Peña?”

“I brought you coffee.”

You stared at him, your mouth going dry. He had brought you coffee that Monday after. He’d left it sitting on your desk for you. He was already in meetings by the time you rolled into the office, but you had known it was from him. “I thought you were just… I don’t know.” Your shoulders sagged. “I thought it was like an olive branch.”

“I tried to get you to go out with me. You shot me down.”

“When?”

“A week after, maybe two. Fuck if I remember we were swamped with paperwork.” Javier dragged his fingers through his hair, staring out the driver’s side window. “It was late, eight or nine. I asked if you wanted to grab a drink and you laughed at me.”

Your heart clenched as you recalled that precise encounter. “Shit.” You breathed out and covered your face. “I had just puked my guts out in the bathroom. I was just trying to get you out of the office before I puked again.”

Javi let out a near-hysterical laugh as he turned his head to look at you. “I thought you were blowing me off. I gave up then. I figured you’d regretted that night and I had to stop chasing you like a dumbass.”

“I didn’t realize.” You chewed on your bottom lip, feeling a surge of raw emotion come over you. “I hate hormones.” You lamented as you covered your face to hide the tears that were now spilling from your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“No, baby. Don’t apologize.” Javier drawled out as he reached across the car and squeezed your leg. “I should’ve said something.”

You shook your head, wiping at your tears. “What were you going to say? What was I going to say? We’re both fucking idiots.”

“It’s all gone to shit without Murphy.”

“Yeah.” You said weakly as you sniffed, staring out your window.

Javier kept his hand on your thigh, his fingertips drawing little circles against your pant leg. It was kind of annoying, but you knew he was just trying to be comforting.

“I don’t expect you to be involved.” You finally spoke again. “I wouldn’t blame you. I don’t want or need your money.” You held up your hand when he started to interrupt you. “No one has to ever know who the baby’s father is.”

“Are you going back to the states?”

You shook your head. “I don’t plan to. I’m sure they’ll try to hassle me into going back, but I’m not. I’ll take desk duty if I have to.”

“So you’d just… What?” Javier’s grip on your thigh tightened. “Make me sit across the office from you, watching our kid grow and… pretend it’s not mine? I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but—”

“You left your highschool sweetheart at the altar, Javi. You’re the kind of man who has one night stands and fucks hookers. You’re the perpetual bachelor and that’s fine.” New anger was brewing in your words. “I respect you enough to not want to ruin your M.O.”

“How many times are you going to throw who I fuck in my face?”

You laughed harshly.

“Are you jealous?” He continued.

“Am I jealous of the women you pay to fuck? No. I can’t say I am.” You stared at him pointedly.

“You broke my goddamn heart when I woke up and you weren’t there.” Javier admitted with a deadly serious tone. “I thought we’d finally figured this out. But instead I woke up alone and confused.”

“You have a heart?” Now you were just being mean for the sake of being mean.

“Fuck you.” He snapped, pulling his hand away from your thigh.

“That’s what got us into this situation.”

“This isn’t a fucking game.” Javier snarled. “I don’t want to just be some deadbeat dad. Do you get that?”

“So you want to be involved?”

“With you.” He raked his fingers over his face, pressing his palms against his eyes as he let out a frustrated sound. “I want to be involved with you. Not just ‘cause you’re knocked up either. You and me? We can figure this out.”

You stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. You couldn’t believe Javier Peña was admitting that he wanted to be with you. You.

“You don’t have to say that.” You stated. “If this is just because I’m pregnant, if this is some white knight bullshit. I don’t want it, Javi. I don’t want to put myself through it and I damn well don’t want to put our kid through it.”

“For fuck’s sake.” He stared up at the roof of the car. “Am I not making sense? Have I not made it clear enough that I wanted you.”

“But I know how you are, Javi.” You frowned as you stared at him. “You have this whole little life of yours—”

“I’m lonely.” Javier confessed, his voice actually cracking. “So fucking lonely.” He slowly turned to look at you, his dark gaze full of emotion. “I’ve spent the last three months feeling like I’m going crazy. I lost Murphy and then I thought I was losing you.”

“Javi—”

“Don’t, ‘Javi’ me.” He snapped. “Do you want this?”

You stared at him, breathless, for what felt like a small eternity. “Yes.”

His seatbelt snapped against the side of the car as he hastily undid it, surging across the center console. He cupped your cheek, dragging you into a surprisingly gentle kiss that stood in stark contrast with the anger that had flared between you.

Maybe it was a mistake. You were both volatile people, you always had been. Maybe it would end in flames in a week or a month or twenty years down the line. But maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would work out. Maybe you and Javi were going to be alright.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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extremelyblackandwhite · 5 years ago

Text

handmaid - 18

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: someone last chapter said y/n was like cinderella and now i can’t forget it. i just love that movie, it’s such a good live-action remake. hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

- Gwen, you don’t need all of this. - half the staff of the penthouse was carrying bags and more bags into the lift that was almost filled with what looked like the full contents of two medium sized bedrooms. - It’s only for three weeks, Gwen. Besides, it’s freezing cold you won’t need a bathing suit.

- What if dad takes me to the Caribbean for New Years? - she crossed her arms, still pulling more and more clothing off her chest of drawers making the room look more messy than a bin area. Y/N sighed, grabbing some clothes and starting to fold them, placing them on the bed. - I have to be prepared, Y/N. People cannot see me looking less than.

- No one would see you as less than, Gwen. - probably over the top but never less than, Y/N thought to herself. - I don’t think all of this is gonna fix in the car. You’ll probably need to put some in the front and back seat.

- That is a great idea. - she closed the drawer with her feet. - You can go tomorrow so we have more space in the car today.

- But ... Gwen.

- You are so smart. - the heiress patted her shoulder, handing her one of her brand named luggage. Y/N just sighed, it was probably alright to go tomorrow but that meant she would miss the decorating of the big Christmas tree in the big lobby. But then again, it was Christmas, the time to think of others and if bringing the entire wardrobe made Gwen happy, then Y/N was happy.

With two luggage bags hanging from her arms and one being held in her arms, she adventured herself into the staircase. However, due to the fact her sight was obstructed by the amount of suitcases, her feet tripped over each other and soon enough she felt herself flying towards the ground. She awaited the impact but instead someone grabbed her by her arms, the only impact felt being the sound created by the bags as they hit the floor in loud bang noises.

- Slow down, little angel. - she bite on her lip, recognising the voice. - You could’ve hurt yourself.

- Just some last minute packing. - Y/N jumped off his arms onto the marbled floors, straightening the fabric of her dress with her hands.

- Doesn’t look very last minute. - he commented. - Three weeks, huh? That’s a bit long without seeing your pretty face around.

- You should be saying three weeks without seeing your wife to be will be long. - she handed one of the valets Gwen’s bags before she came downstairs and started panicking.

- You shouldn’t lie during Christmas. It’s Jesus birthday. - he chuckled, immediately returning to his regular stoic presence once Gwen came down the stair holding another bag. - Genevieve, my whole staff should not be packing the car.

- Not your whole staff besides if you need anything ask Y/N, she’s still staying here for a day longer.

- Gwen needs space in the car. - Y/N spoke up and before Sebastian could argue her own selflessness, she, along with several bags and Gwen, were already going down in the lift to the entrance where several staff where waiting with golden rolling cages to put all the luggage in so it could be hauled easily into the car. As everything got settled and placed, Y/N peaked her head into the window. - Are you sure you’re alright going on your own?

- Yes, Y/N. You can go now, I’ll send the car for you tomorrow.

Y/N stepped back, waving goodbye as the car drove the heiress back to her family home. Sure, deep on the inside where no one but herself could see it but her, she was grieving losing what they did just before Christmas Eve. The decorating of the tree where she could put her very old yet near and dear precious ornament on the tree, the baking of the dough for the sugar cookies so they could be baked tomorrow but Christmas was not about Y/N, it was not about just one individual, it was about being there for those you loved and despite all, Y/N loved Gwen as much as a friend could ... sadly, she might also love her husband to be.

As the car disappeared in the horizon, Y/N returned to the lobby, smiling at the lobby staff before she entered the lift which took her back to the penthouse. She had to admit the penthouse looked beautiful in the Christmas spirit. As she noticed the Christmas tree by the piano, an idea came into her mind and like a flash, she went into her bedroom, grabbed the red box and returned to the living room. Her hands delicately opened the box, staring at the still intact by time golden ornament. In her wildest fantasies as a child, she dreamed of marrying a prince, living her own life in her own little kingdom and pass the bauble down to her offspring. Yet those were childish fantasies and every once in a while, people need to grow and get newer fantasies.

- Leaving the room will not stop me from arguing with you, angel. - she held the ornament to her chest, softly turning on her feet to see Sebastian standing there, looking at her with a teasing smile. - She doesn’t need all that luggage.

- It’s alright, Elias said he’d drive tomorrow.

- What do you have there? - he pointed at her red glossy box, noticing the gold written Cartier on top. - A present from Gwen?

- Not quite. - she opened the little drawer, holding onto the golden string of the gold bauble. - Mr. Forrest gave it to me when I was little. I always put it on the Christmas tree on the 23rd.

- You sure you don’t want me to drive you there myself? I’m sure if ...

- I don’t wanna bother you or the staff. They deserve a Christmas break too.

- I don’t know if it helps but ... - he stepped next to her. - You can always put it on our Christmas tree.

- Why don’t you put it? - she handed him the bauble and he probably would’ve said no, had it not been by the soft smile and hopeful nature her shining eyes had as she held the string. Sebastian merely smiled back, putting the ornament in the first free branch he saw, something he hadn’t done since he was a young boy. - It looks lovely. Doesn’t it?

- You find beauty in everything, angel. - his eyes glued on the golden necklace that was always wrapped around her neck which somehow seemed to glisten even more than before. - You know, you never really told me about that little necklace you lost when we first meet.

- Oh ... it was my mother’s. - she smiled. - It’s been with me for ages. It’s a robin you know? The bird. When I was a little girl I used to think that was her name, Robin.

- My father used to know someone named Robin. Peculiar name, isn’t it?

- Yeah, I always wonder about them during the holidays. Do you not ... wonder about your parents that is?

- My father and I didn’t have the best relationship but I do miss my mother. She passed away a long time ago but ... she used to have the best sugar cookie recipe.

- You don’t mean to tell me the mob boss cooks. - she poked his shoulder playfully. - You ought to teach me someday.

- Of course, now go pack.

Y/N had spent most of the day packing, deciding what to bring and what to show to the house staff. Not that she had a lot that she could show for but she wanted to bring the dress Sebastian gave her to show to the maids of the kitchen. Also because it had quickly climbed up to be one of her favourite gowns even with all the hand me downs from Genevieve.

She had fallen asleep mumbling Christmas carols, her mind going to one of her favourite time of the years and to the smells of cooking in the kitchen. She woke up with an unusual cold rushing down her spine. She popped her head from under the covers, eyes gazing at the outside of the Upper East through her window only to see it fully covered with lots and lots of fluffy snow. Oh no.

She rushed down the stairs like a mad men, punching the button of the lift which seemed to take ages to arrive and even longer to reach the lobby. She ran to the doors, pushing it open to the see the very busy Upper East Side with nothing but people walking.

- I’m sorry, sir. Are any cars leaving? - she asked the valet outside the door

- Not today, Miss. All the streets are blocked. Pretty bad blizzard last night.

- Oh ... - if her heart could physically break, it had just broken. - Thank y ...

- MISS Y/N. - one of the bodyguards rushed after her. - You almost gave us a fright, you could’ve gotten hurt.

- There’s no cars leaving. - she spoke with the weight of the world on her voice, following the bodyguard onto the living room. Most of the staff was gone and only essential and in-house living staff was in, mostly cooking for the holidays.

- Angel, are you alright? - Sebastian showed up from her left, still dressed in what looked like his sleeping clothes.

- There’s no cars leaving NY. - Y/N didn’t dare look anyone in the eyes, afraid her overwhelming sadness would manifest into tears if she dared to do so. - The blizzard ... nothing’s leaving ... I can’t go home.

- Nonsense. There must be something leaving. - his hand rested against her shoulder which was rather cold due to the contact with the cold weather outside. - Why don’t you go with Amelia and have something to eat? We’ll figure it out.

- Yes, come Miss Y/N ... - Amelia put her hands in the small back of Y/N. - I’ll make you some warm tea before you get sick. Come on.

Y/N was rushed into the kitchen by the cook while Sebastian grabbed his phone. Surely something had to be working, it wasn’t like she could walk what would regularly be a half an hour ride, she would freeze to death. No planes or personal flying vehicles were clear for take off and no cars or drivers were being allowed to drive.

- Angel ... - he called out for the young girl who looked bluer than night ice. - Why don’t you go and take a warm bath while I figure this out?

- Come along now. - Amelia pushed her off her seat before she could rebuff him. As the two disappeared into the hallway, Sebastian called out whatever he had left of staff which wasn’t too much. Luckily the stores were open and brave souls could adventure themselves into walking into them.

- Right, you all have exactly one hour to turn this house into a Christmas paradise. Food, carolling, movies, all of it. It’s an order. Now go.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld @captainchrisstan @lookiamtrying @sarge-barnes-sir @stuffforreferences @thebadassbitchqueen

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan xyou #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #mobster!sebastian stan #mob!sebastian stan #mob boss! sebastian stan #mafia!sebastian stan

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