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peachiieu · 4 months ago

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the ninja with ninja!reader who has spatiokinesis

pairings: main 6 x reader (separate, ninjago)

warnings: violence, cussing

authors note: spatiokinesis is the power to manipulate space and everything in it, i think it’s so cool because there’s not really a space ninja, i feel like a ninja with spatiokinesis would have a purple gi but doesn’t nelson have that? not sure if i described this stuff right because i got a lot of information, some opposing each other so sorry about that. also, i did a oneshot + hcs for this preference! send requests, i love doing them :3

word count: 6.8k

COLE BROOKSTONE

you and cole are resting in the living room of the monastery, playing video games together on the couch. a blanket is draped on your laps as your knees touch, controllers in your hands. the both of you are talking, subjects switching from the video game itself to missions.

the conversations subject switches, as you finish the game and put your controllers down, cole looks in your direction and smiles, “hey, i’m glad we’re together right now. we haven’t been able to hang out, like, at all for the past few months. i’ve really missed you…”

you smile back at him, a vulnerable moment between you two. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, placing your head near his neck. he wraps his arms around your waist, the two of you stay like that for a couple minutes, murmuring soft whispers to each other.

the moment is interrupted when the door is opened, a voice you recognize as master wu greets, “cole, y/n.” you lift your head, unwrapping your arms from cole as he does the same, the two of you look at each other then to master wu. the rest of the ninja walk in, sitting on the couches and chattering amongst each other.

the bearded man walks in your direction, standing in between two couches, all of your attention on him. he speaks, “two of you have to go on a mission, a mission to make allies with two kingdoms. one on earth… and one on a different planet.” he pauses, “and it will be cole and y/n. the rest of you are excused.”

the ninja gasp, immediately erupting with words of disbelief and arguing with him. they soon walk out one by one as master wu ushers them out. you and cole look at each other, smiling, you whisper to him, “we’ll have more time together then, yeah? could be fun, i know all about space!” master wu coughs, your attention on him again. he says, ��the two of you are going, space and earth go hand in hand. you complete each other, and i’m sure you’ve noticed that long ago.” he pauses, smiling, “you will leave in two days. i will tell you more tomorrow, get some sleep, you two.”

he walks out of the room as you thank him, you exclaim, “oh my gosh! we’ll have so much time together, i’m so excited!” he replies, “i bet it’ll be so fun, ooh! and since we’re gonna be in kingdoms, we’ll probably get good food and,” his mouth opens, his eyes glistening with anticipation, “really comfortable beds!”

you gasp, “you’re right! and we’ll get to go to a planet! i’ve been to a few planets, but never one that had a kingdom!” he replies, “wait, wait, wait. which planets have you been to? are they cool?” hours pass by as the conversation goes on and on, eventually falling asleep in each others arms.

the two of you are literally so perfect together, earth and space complete one another, as do you and cole

both of you make an effort to learn about the others powers and even have to go on missions, just the two of you, because your powers compliment each others so well

probably randomly calls you a cringe but cute nickname related to space because he loves to see you flustered then roll your eyes

you have something between you two that is seemingly unexplainable by everyone around you, you and cole see each other as equals and love each other

all the ninja believe you’re soulmates, you fulfill each other in ways the team can’t possibly comprehend but see how much the earth can’t live without space, literally and figuratively

occasionally, he’ll ask you to create a portal so the two of you can see the earth although you’re on it

he just thinks it’s beautiful and because it’s surrounded by space, it’s even better, believing there is nothing more appealing than that view while being in your presence

JAY WALKER

you and the ninja are in a warehouse, each of you watching above from the top of the large shelves. you and jay kneel down next to each other and looking amongst each other. you then hear clanging in front of you, a large door, sparks coming from the sides, grabbing your attention.

the door falls down, you see the mechanic and his henchmen standing in place. he smirks, “we’re in, boys!” they look around, not yet walking in, he continues, “look at all this old junk…” he turns to the man in a hoodie and mask next to him, grabbing his hood and saying, “just because it’s old doesn’t make it junk, just forgotten.” the mechanic drops the man, pointing in front of him, commanding, “find the motherboard!”

the henchmen, dressed in various outfits rush to look through all the junk. the mechanic walks through the warehouse, looking around in case he spots anything interesting. he sees a box, one filled with all kinds of circuit boards. he stops in his tracks, pointing at it, “there! the top shelf!”

one of the men grab a latter, placing it on a shelf so he can climb up. he grabs the box, accidentally dropping it, yelping, and falling into another box filled with styrofoam. the mechanic scolds him, “careful with those!” and grabs the man’s clothing, pulling him out of the box, causing the man to fall to the ground.

the mechanic examines at the circuit boards, looking out for a black and red one. “what are we looking for, boss?” one of the henchmen asks, approaching the mechanic. he replies, “this is it! a needle in a haystack… a very, very valuable needle.” he says, the henchmen surrounding him and looking at the board.

you pat nya on the shoulder, nodding as a gesture to show herself to the mechanic and her henchmen. she then nods, looking to the other ninja as they nod too, lloyd gives jay the signal to turn on the lights. he zaps the light switch, turning it on and causing the group below to look around, covering their eyes.

you stand up, the rest of the ninja doing the same as you all look down on the group. nya announces, “sorry to crash the party, boys!” you all jump down, the blue ninja next to you jokes, “guess our invitations got lost in the mail, huh?” first looking at the mechanic then to you. the skin around his eyes crinkle, you guess he is smiling.

you smile back, he begins to grab out his sword when lloyd objects, “no weapons, guys! these are just low level thugs.” you put your arm in front of jay, he puts his arm back to his side and gives up trying to take his weapon out. “my fists are my weapons!” cole says, punching the air.

zane looks at the other ninja, arguing, “i would not classify the mechanic as ‘low level.’ he is suspected in thirty-six unsolved criminal cases.” he gestures to the man, uncertainty visible just through his upper half of his face.

“thirty-seven.” the mechanic corrects, he takes out a machine. an arm mechanism jumps out at the nindroid, forcing a yelp out of him and pushing him into a pile of junk. jay looks back, then to the mechanic, moving into a fighting stance, “you’re not getting away that easy!”

a surge of confidence runs through the mechanic, he smirks, “who’s trying to get away? there are more of us than you!” he gestures around him, holding his arms out and looking around. they are huddled in a group, almost as if they are trying to escape.

the leader scowls, nodding to come back to him. the men look nervous, eyes glancing at each other as they walk back to the mechanic, taking their weapons out. as two stand next to him, he says, “and we’re not afraid to use our weapons!” he uses a machine, flames come out of it as he aims it at lloyd, you chuckle, he fails to hurt the green ninja every time.

jay looks around, another box of circuit boards catches his eyes, he picks up three blue ones, grunting, “i have no problem using these!” he throws them at the group, “take that, obsolete file formats!” you giggle, your attention is on the mechanic once the motherboard falls out of his hands.

it falls onto the ground, kai runs to catch it, falling onto the ground as well. three men gang up on him, jumping onto him so he can’t get up. they grab his arm as he accidentally throws it to another man, who looks clueless as he doesn’t know what to do. he smiles, lloyd drops one of the men and throws him to the ground, chasing after the motherboard.

you roll your eyes at kai’s mistake, you look around to see jay getting targeted by another henchman. as they punch and kick each other, you open up a portal to space behind the man, “don’t fall in, jay!” a look of fear is on the henchman’s and jay’s face. he quickly snaps out of the surprised state of mind, using his lightning and zapping the man into the portal. it begins to get smaller and smaller as you close it.

the blue ninja looks amazed, “where did you learn to do that? that’s so cool!” he exclaims. you shrug, smiling as you’re focused on his compliment. “couldn’t have done it without you, honey!” you wink, he giggles, “oh, i love you so much—“ nya begins to tease the two of you, “mind helping, lovebirds?”

you and jay look to each other smiling before running after a couple men and fighting them.

jay loves figuring out how things work, being interested in technology and all that stuff

so it’s no surprise he’s at least a tad bit interested in space, it’s more how rocket ships work and how they’re made though

he gets all excited when asking if you’ve been to specific planets or have seen asteroids, comets, black holes, etc

“yeah, seeing two black holes collide wasn’t as scary as i thought it’d be—“

“what!? are you serious, that’s so cool! was it loud or silent, because i don’t understand?!”

he can go on and on just ranting about space as you will listen although you know more than he does

takes you to museums where there’s spacecraft, so technology, then there’s information about planets and assets in space, both of you enjoy it very much

makes jokes about space in hopes of you laughing at them, saying ‘it’s so quiet here… i’m just trying to fill the space’ while you guys are literally in space

KAI SMITH

you are at the library in the monastery of airjitzu, sitting and meditating on a mat you placed on a ground, different colored books stacked up around you. eyes closed, your legs crossed as your palms lay on your knees, your breathing is even and calm.

your mind is focused on how you can make up a plan to defeat krux and acronix, you were told you’re the most important ninja at the time because you’re the elemental master of space, meanwhile the twins are the masters of time.

time and space cannot exist without one another, they are linked as one, a single continuum. one of your ancestors had accidentally opened a wormhole, one people could travel through and survive in to time travel. the twins didn’t have all the time blades yet, so they had threatened your father to open a portal into space into a wormhole, which he had given into.

they have been changing the past, therefore affecting the future, and you are instructed to close the wormhole so they can’t travel. as they battle the elemental masters, they don’t have the forward blade but having the others.

you open your eyes at the sound of a door opening, frustrated at not being able to focus on opening a portal to space. you had never understood how you can survive without a suit, while other humans can’t. your throat tightens up, your eyes sting as kai walks in your direction, “hey, babe, you doing okay?”

he kneels down to your height as you are still sitting down, moving books out of the way so he can sit next to you. you hesitate, “i’m okay, i can’t focus that well… i need to close that wormhole, even if they succeed in fighting the elemental masters somehow, they don’t have the forward blade, so they can’t come back. but i can’t go back in time to destroy the blades, that would change everything…”

as you rant, your boyfriend begins to feel bad for you, you are clearly stressed but you are the only one who has the ability to deal with the twins. he stays quiet, you silence yourself for a few minutes, focused as your eyes are closed. you hold your hand out, a large, purple orb forming into a black portal, white spots as stars. a large, blue hole is within the portal, shining bright in your eyes, a wormhole, you think.

you look at kai before looking at the portal, he nods and smiles, “i’ll see you in a few minutes. be careful, please.” you nod, smiling at him and placing your hands on his shoulders, leaning to give him a kiss on the cheek. you look at him one last time before walking into the portal, it closes behind you.

you are enveloped by darkness, yet looking around and seeing small bright lights and circles that represent planets. as the large, blue hole is in front of you, you focus, purple lights coming out from both of your hands, brightness overcoming the wormhole. as noises overwhelm you, you open your eyes to see no wormhole left.

you turn around, observing your surroundings to see the wormhole is completely gone, you hope krux and acronix can’t come back. easily opening a portal back to the library of the monastery of airjitzu, seeing kai waiting for you, standing and pacing.

you use your powers to give you a boost, moving you closer to the portal as you lift your leg up to step onto the floor. you walk in, the portal closing behind you. kai runs to you, “oh, thank god, y/n! are you okay? did you close it?”

you nod, his hands on your shoulders, “i’m okay, i closed the wormhole but… i don’t know if it did anything.”

he responds, a small smirk on his face, “we’ll have to see then, won’t we?”

kai never understands a single word you say about space but listens anyway

sometimes you’ll tell him about supernovas or asteroids or anything else in space, he gets all confused and makes you repeat it

“y’know… i was close to the sun once, not enough to burn but enough to be super hot, and fuck, was it loud! shit almost burst my eardrums, was even worse since i was getting warmer by the second…”

“huh?”

he’ll make references to space when you’re talking about something, it lets you know he’s paid attention to your conversations

always talking about how he’s as hot as the sun, it’s such a basic thing he says but you laugh and roll your eyes each time, telling him it’s not the hottest thing that exists

probably got sucked into space once when you opened a portal in a fight, he couldn’t make any noise so you had to grab his hand within a few seconds and pull him back to you

after that, he brags to others that he’s been to space even though he was scared shitless when he was pulled into space on accident

teases you and calls you silly nicknames related to space

“they kinda look like a tardigay or whatever it’s called…”

“tardigrade… wait, kai, that’s so rude!!”

LLOYD GARMADON

your boyfriend, lloyd, trains arin and sora in the center of the monastery. he has been telling you about his nightmares, he’s been losing sleep more and has wanted to be in the same room with you almost all the time. you know you can’t do much to help him, but you decide to make him a little gift to hopefully cheer him up.

as you sit down at your desk in your room, you look at the framed photos, one with you and all the ninja making silly faces at the dinner table. the other is a photo of you and lloyd making shocked expressions in front of statues, designed to look like the two of you. you smile at the thought, remembering how excited you and the ninja were to see statues of yourselves.

you hear grunting and complaints from outside, causing you to become concerned. you stand up from your chair, walking to the door and leaning on it, watching lloyd correct sora and arin with their posture.

the former imperian pants, “why can’t we train on days when it’s colder? it’s like, scorching out here!” looking at arin, as he seems out of breath but standing up straight. lloyd places his hand on his hip, slightly annoyed, “i’m training you so you can become the best. can’t do that if you’re inconsistent with it.”

she rolls her eyes, complying, “fine.” and hops on one of the wooden pillars, jumping from each one to the next. arin looks at lloyd, gaining a nod as a gesture to follow after sora. as you watch, you remember how dreadful it was to train in thick clothes in hot weather.

you begin to feel bad for the kids, you walk outside your room to the kitchen, not being noticed as lloyd and the two kids are focused on their training. as you slide open the door to the kitchen, you walk in, opening the wooden cabinets and grabbing three large glasses. you then fill them up one by one with water from the sink.

once you are done, you walk back to the center of the monastery, waiting for the two kids to be done with the training course. lloyd’s back is to you, he sits on a mat as a table is in front of him, a small cup and a teapot on it.

you walk next to lloyd, standing next to him and bending down to hold a glass of water out to him. his attention is pulled away from arin and sora, he looks up at you and smiles. he gently grabs the glass from your hands, “thanks, honey. where’ve you been? i feel like i haven’t seen you in forever.” he places his hand on your back, drinking the glass of water you gave him.

“oh! i’ve been in my room for a while, i slept in really late, didn’t sleep that well last night. these are for the kids.” you say, gesturing to the glasses of water. the blonde smiles, placing his water down on the table in front of him and offering, “here, i’ll take those.” you smile as he takes them from your hands, your fingers brushing against each other.

you hear a thump, you and lloyd’s attention turn to the kids in front of you. arin’s bright orange hoodie is on the ground, he’s laying on his stomach as his arms are splayed out. sora stands near him, a disappointed look on her face as her arms are crossed.

lloyd has a worried look on his face, “arin, buddy, you okay? y/n got you two water—“ the boys head quickly turns back, placing his hands on the ground and standing up, running to the table as sora follows after him.

he grabs one of the glasses that looks more filled, lloyd’s glass is separated from the two others. arin gulps down the water in the glass, sora grabs hers, “finally, some water! i was so thirsty!” she drinks it quickly, wiping her mouth after she is done. they both place their cups on the table.

lloyd crosses his arms, a disapproving expression on his face, frowning at the two. arin and sora glance at each other, wondering why lloyd seems upset, their attention switches to the blonde. he crosses his arms and asks, “what do you say?” gesturing to you.

“thank you!” they both exclaim, eliciting a smile from you. arin looks at you for a second, a grin spreading across his face, the corners of his lips turn upwards, “you’re the space ninja!” you nod at him. sora looks at you and lloyd, noticing how his hand is on your back and how the space between the two of you is small.

she turns to the black haired boy next to him, whispering in his ear, “are they together? they’re super close and lloyd’s hand is on her back…” lloyd’s eyebrow goes up, he asks, suspicious, “hey, what are you two talking about?”

arin answers sora, not bothering to whisper, “uh…. i don’t know!” lloyd takes his hand off your back, placing his hands on his hips, a stern look on his face, “don’t know what?”

you place your hand on his forearm, softly saying, “i’ll be back in probably an hour, ‘kay, handsome?” his face relaxes into a lovesick grin, placing his hand on yours as you squeeze it and walk towards your room.

you chuckle as you hear mumbling and ‘oooh’s from the center of the monastery. you walk into your room, sitting on the chair meant for your desk and opening a portal to space. it’s dark in the portal, you focus, holding your hands out and forming a sphere out of dark matter. it forms into a small asteroid, probably about the diameter of the size of your hand, the tip of your middle finger to the bottom of the palm of your hand.

you use your powers to bring the small asteroid out of the portal, gently placing it on a stand on a silver sphere holder on your desk. you close the portal, taking clay out of the silver bag on your desk, coloring dye next to it. you form the body of a boy, adding spiked blonde hair to his scalp. you then add a small amount of green dye to some clay, making a shirt and wide leg pants for the boy, wrapping it around his legs, torso and arms.

taking a small amount of clay from the bag, about the size of the tip of your pinkie, you add a drop of red dye into it, mixing it and getting your hands red in the process. you form a bow tie, putting it on the boys green shirt, you then wrap another part of the red clay around his waist as a belt.

grabbing the black dye, you put a miniature amount into some clay, rounding two sections of it and forming it into eyes. you make three other sections, adding small buttons onto the boys shirt. you add a large amount of orange to a part of clay, making lines of it and connecting them to make a chair.

with the rest of the orange clay, you create shoes for the boy, sharp tips and small heels. it doesn’t look as appealing as you wished, you didn’t have brown dye so you decided to stick with orange. as you stick the shoes onto the boy, you place him on the asteroid. the chair is behind him, yet he is not sitting on it.

you create flowers with green, yellow and red clay, placing them in a group on the asteroid. taking some of the leftover red and green clay, you make a rose. you didn’t have something to cover it with, so you placed it on the asteroid and left it on there. with some orange clay, you make a stand after turning it into lines, connecting them. you round another part of it, forming it into a pan. you place the stand on an elevated part of the asteroid, placing the pan on the stand.

making roots out of dark orange clay, you place some onto the asteroid, scattering them. you stare at your creation, looking to your right and realizing that an hour has passed since you’ve seen lloyd. you snap back into reality, hearing words of advice from a familiar voice, he talks to his students.

you then hear, “alright, you two. once you’re done with the course, i’ll start making dinner.” arin and sora exclaim, cheering as you hear stomps and noises of jumping from pillar to pillar and ducking from moving targets. once you hear only speaking and steps moving to the kitchen, you assume sora and arin are gone.

you walk out, picking up the asteroid with your magic and heading to lloyd’s direction. the sky is dark, stars and lamps being the only sources of light. the blonde turns to you as he hears your footsteps, smiling at the sight of you.

he walks towards you, once you are in less than arms length apart, he looks at the asteroid and gasps, “is that the little prince?” there’s a smile on his face as he observes every part of it, you nod, “the little prince reminds me of you, ill make a little rake later so he can get rid of the baobabs.” he smiles at the little detail, you continue, “it’s for you.”

his mouth slightly widens, his expression softens as he looks at you with love, “you know i love that book, right?” he takes in more details about your creation, continuing, “we can put it on my desk in my room, but then i have to make dinner for sora and arin.”

the two of you walk to his room as you compliment, “those two are different, aren’t they? real talented, i don’t train them but i can hear them saying words, doubting themselves. they are capable of a lot more than they give themselves credit for.” you slide open the door to his room, asking, “here?” as you place it on his desk, he agrees.

after placing it on his desk, you continue to talk about the progress of the kids as you walk to the kitchen. arin and sora are at the dinner table, talking amongst one another. when you pass by, you and lloyd’s shoulders continuously bump against each other, talking as you take ingredients out of the fridge and pantry.

the two kids quiet down to listen in, hearing you and their mentor giggling and making jokes. the two of you call each other sweet names, complimenting each other. arin and sora look into the kitchen, seeing lloyd’s back and his blonde hair as he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your cheek.

sora smirks, looking at arin as his jaw looks like it’s about to drop to the ground. she chuckles, “told you.”

you and lloyd sometimes aren’t necessarily considered elements, as civilians would describe his power as ‘green’ and yours as ‘space’ but the other ninja have water, ice, fire, earth and lightning

so the two of you are kind of thought of as different, a bit separated from the ninja

he loves hearing you talk about space because you know all about it, he’s a total nerd and loves to add facts to yours

as there isn’t much to read about lloyd’s powers, he instead reads books and documentaries about space then brings it up in a conversation, or he asks you questions

“hey y/n, is space actually silent? i’ve heard a lot of information about it, but a lot of it opposes another thing… so…?”

“oh, yeah, it’s silent! there’s no molecules or atoms or any of that to carry a sound wave, so there’s no sound. there’s no air.”

if the two of you are separated because of a mission or one of you got captured, if lloyd can see space or the stars, he’ll just stare up at it for hours

it calms him down because he knows you’ll always be there in some figurative way, to him, you are space and everything in it

NYA SMITH

you scroll through tiktok, seeing a video of a couple writing their initials on a lock and placing it on a fence of some sort. you smile, it reminds you of nya. you send it to her, she replies, ‘THATS SO CUTEEE!! i have two locks come to my room ill show you’

closing out of the tiktok app, you press a button on the side of your phone to turn it off, sitting up from your bed and standing up. you slide open the door, sliding it closed after walking out. you walk to your right, your bedroom being right next to nya’s.

slowly sliding open the door, you hear a recognizable voice, “y/n? is that you? if so, come in! i have a sharpie we can write our initials with!” at the words of her welcoming you in, you fully slide open the door. she sits on the blue covers of her bed, a dark blue pattern near the feet of the bed.

a sharpie and two gold locks are in her hands, she smiles and looks up at you, gesturing for you to sit next to her. you sit down next to her, asking, “where would we put them after we’ve written our initials?”

she thinks for a moment, staring off at one of her weapons as she decides, “it wouldn’t be the healthiest to put it straight into the ocean, so maybe on a fence, like how it was shown in the video! then we can put the other one somewhere else too, where are you thinking for the other one?”

you think, she’s putting her lock near the ocean, which connects with her powers. you state, “i could connect it to the flag on the moon? i don’t know, that’s all i can think of…” you shrug.

“yay! it’s gonna be so cute, here, i already wrote my initials on two of them, write yours on too!” she exclaims, handing the sharpie and two locks to you. you grab the items from her, taking the cap off of the sharpie and writing your initial next to ‘N + ’ on both locks.

you ask, “should i put the lock on the flag on the moon now?” she nods, answering your question, “yeah! i can watch, i’ve always wanted to see the moon up close!” she chuckles. you warn her, “okay, but when i open the portal, do not get sucked in, just don’t fall in, it’s real dangerous!”

she nods, walking to the other side of the bed as you look back at her before looking in front of you. you use your powers, creating a portal to space, which happens to be right in front of the moon. you hop in, your powers assisting you, pushing you towards the moon. as you land, you walk around to find the flag of ninjago pushed into the surface.

as the lock is already unlocked, you give it a good look one more time before hooking it around the pole of the flag, pushing part of the metal into the lock itself. you smile, hopping and giving yourself a boost with your powers, the portal is still open. you travel to the portal, your girlfriend watching you intently.

you place your hands on the flooring of nya’s room, using leverage to push yourself up, stepping on the floor and walking in. you close the portal behind yourself, the black haired girl in front of you giggles, “that was so cool! now i can say i’ve seen the moon!”

you smile at her, walking over to her side of the bed and leaning into her, gently grabbing her hand and placing a soft kiss on her cheek. she smiles, “it’s getting late, hon. we should go to bed, it’s really late…”

looking to the clock on her desk, it’s past one in the morning. your eyes widen, you begin to yawn. both of you are already in your pajamas, so nya pulls the covers down, laying down in bed. she leaves some space for you, smiling.

you walk over to the entrance of her room, turning the lights off. you walk back to her, feeling around the bed as she pats the space next to her. you sit on the bed, laying down as you pull the blankets back onto your chest, turning on your side to face nya. you place an arm over her waist, she places a hand on your back.

“goodnight y/n…” she mumbles, slowly falling into a deep sleep. you are too tired to respond, mumbling no specific words.

both of you are so connected to your powers, she can take the form of the ocean as you can take the form of space itself or anything in it

as i said in a previous post, she loves going on dates with you where you dip your feet into the ocean while eating little snacks, whispering softly to each other as you look out for shooting stars

researches about topics you’ve previously talked about, wanting to have more advanced and detailed conversations about space with you

“hey, you know that star you were talking about a few days ago? i heard it was 20,000 to 25,000 kelvin… but what is kelvin anyway?”

“oh, it’s a measurement of temperature… it’s the same thing as celsius though, i don’t know why they had to make another name for it!”

gives you little gifts related to space because it reminds her of you, also keeps some in her bedroom in case you’re away for whatever reasons

you have a necklace with a bottle of water from the ocean in it, she has a necklace with a bottle of moon dust in it, gifted by each other

ZANE JULIEN

as you and zane stand in the middle of the monastery, you converse, deciding how you will train with one another. you ask, “z, how are we gonna train?” he smiles at the nickname, thinking for a few moments. “it would be most efficient to wear our gi and armor, but we haven’t have trained with no rules. lately, it has only been fist to fist fighting. using our powers would be a helpful way to train for today.”

you nod, agreeing, “that makes sense.” both of you back up from each other, a good amount of space between you two. you stare at zane, waiting for him to say when to fight, he stares back. you then hear a voice from behind you, one you can register as kai, “if you guys are training, you should just go—“ at the word, you and zane leap to each other.

the nindroid attempts to blast you with ice, failing as you dodge it. you hold up your hand, a circular, purple hue appears, which you can only guess is dark matter. you aim at zane, blasting it at him. he yelps, only dodging it by less than an inch.

frustrated by your failure, you scowl, opening a portal to space as your boyfriend uses his ice powers to make a flooring under you. you slide as he blasts you with ice, it hits your stomach, making you hunch over in pain. as it pushes you farther, you use your powers to bring a very small asteroid from the portal, smaller than zane himself yet as tall as half of his body. closing the portal, you use your powers to push it towards him.

his eyes widen using his ice powers to freeze it, making a pole to connect the asteroid and the ground, it freezes in midair. he doesn’t move, you rush towards him and exclaim, “oh gosh, i’m sorry, zane! i didn’t think about how that could really hurt you, are you okay?”

he stares at the asteroid, impressed, “that was… astonishing. when did you realize you could bring matter and energy from space into fights?” taking his attention off of the ice covered asteroid as it slowly melts to look at you. you reply, “oh, i’m not sure, actually. i just once opened a portal to space after studying how to, then at first, i made a star small somehow. like, really small, maybe a bit bigger than my fist, then i sort of threw it at a training dummy, not with my bare hands, but with magic, you know!” you got nervous and began to rant.

“have you ever thrown someone into the portal? have you gone into space yourself?” he asks, tilting his head as he is highly interested to know about your journeys and experiences. you immediately nod, “yes to both of your questions! i’ve thrown people into space portals, some people have tripped into them.. but i sort of make sure they’re safe-ish before they go in! so a few minutes later, i can bring them back! it’s cool, they get all scared and stuff and most of the time don’t bother me again. and i’ve gone into space a lot, probably around once a week or so, i’ve explored planets, many of them! i can survive without a suit, too. it might be in my genes or something… i don’t know, it’s a bit weird… but i enjoy it!”

he nods, taking in all the information as he wants to know more, “i am guessing you are able to use more than asteroids, stars and dark matter in fights. is that correct? have you used other… assets from space besides those three?”

you beam, excited to talk about your speciality, both of you have forgotten about your training as you continue to talk about space, “i accidentally got an enemy too close to a supernova, and those are really hot so… it didn’t end up well for them. ooh! and about dark matter, that’s the thing i almost hit you with, i didn’t quite understand what it could do. so i hit a group of enemies with it, they kinda became like pancakes… its like they melted, flipped onto the ground. but its not supposed to be hot, its cold for some reason. that’s just what i’ve learned, and that its supposed to be invisible! but mine is purple for some reason, so maybe its something else?”

he thinks for a moment, only coming up with one logical explanation to your question, “all of us have colors that go with our powers, wind is the only one that makes sense to not have a color. purple and black are commonly associated with space, and cole is already associated with earth, black is his color. i suppose that is why your powers are purple. if i am wrong, i do not know what the reason for the color of your powers is.

you nod, the conversation continues as you and zane ask questions, the other attempting to answer each time. most of it is related to space, changing to the nindroid powers every couple minutes.

whenever you start talking about space, he comes up with more questions because he genuinely wants to know more about space and he loves hearing you talk

also learns more about space during his spare time so you can have detailed conversations

searches everywhere in his database to see all the asteroids or comets that might pass by ninjago one day, in hopes that the two of you can see it together someday

knows as much as you do about space besides the things that haven’t been confirmed by scientists, instead confirmed by you because you’ve seen a lot

“according to my database, a comet will pass by on the fifth. would you like to go to a secluded area with me so we could see it together?”

“oh my gosh, i heard about that too! we should go, i heard multiple of them will pass by!”

tells you a few more facts that you don’t know about space, sometimes going on long rants but it becomes interactive over time

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obsidianimagines · 1 month ago

Text

Stay

After he and his brothers track down and kill the men who murdered their mother, Jack returns home to find you waiting in his room, and he doesn't want you to leave.

Jack Mercer x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of death/murder/trauma, a little homophobia (Bobby refers to reader as Jack's beard), smidge of angst, comfort/fluff 🥺, cursing, a little mention of sex so MINORS DNI

Notes: This is my first try at a Jack imagine. Hope you like it ☺️ and please ignore how bad I am at titles

Jack's childhood bedroom looked about as you'd expected.

An electric guitar and amp. A stereo with a collection of rock cd's. Band and car posters plastered on the wall. And, of course, a stack of VHS tapes that you probably didn't want to inspect too closely—he'd been a teenage boy the last time he lived there, after all.

You eventually grew tired of looking around and propped his pillow up so you could sit back against his headboard. His bed was a lot more comfortable than the one in the crappy hotel you'd been sleeping in, mostly because it was Jack's, and that meant safety. It meant home.

It was already pretty late when you first arrived at the Mercer home, so you were having a hard time staying awake to greet your boyfriend. Maybe you should've just waited until the morning, but something told you that you might be needed. That was why you'd driven to Detroit with him in the first place instead of making him go on his own. To be there for him during such a devastating time.

You yawned and decided to rest your eyes for just a few minutes, not hearing the sound of the front door, or Bobby speaking a little too loudly as three of the Mercers entered.

"Seriously, Jackie. How much are you paying her?"

"I'm not paying her anything, Bobby." Like always, his brother was just trying to get under his skin. Sometimes, it really fucking bothered him, but after seeing your car parked out front, he just wanted to find you.

He didn't see you in the living room, and just as he realized where you likely were, Sofi came down the stairs and confirmed it. "She's waiting in your room."

"Thanks." Jack took the steps two at a time, passing Sofi as she eagerly went to meet Angel at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, she better not think she's staying here! We don't need another La Vida Loca!" Bobby called after Jack, which he ignored, chuckling as Sofi started cursing at the oldest Mercer in Spanish.

Jack opened his bedroom door, cracking a small smile the instant he noticed you dozing off on his bed. He'd had half a mind to have Jerry drop him off at your hotel, but it was late enough that he assumed you were already sound asleep. Now that he knew you weren't even there, he was glad he hadn't gone anyway because he wouldn't have heard the end of it from Bobby.

Your eyes fluttered open as Jack slipped off his leather jacket, tossing it on the chair while kicking off his boots. "Hi," you greeted with a relieved smile.

"Hey, gorgeous," he replied as he climbed into the bed with you.

Even though you'd only been together for about two and a half years, you could read Jack very well. It was clear when he was upset or thinking of painful things, showing right there in his eyes. At that moment, you saw not just the sadness and grief of the last several days, but something else that disturbed him.

You shimmied down the bed a bit and opened your arms, allowing him to practically lay on top of you and rest his head on your chest. "What happened, baby?" You gently embraced him, resting a hand at the nape of his neck.

Jack took a moment to relax in your arms, letting out a sigh as you began to run your fingers through his hair. It had taken some time and a lot of built trust for him to be fully comfortable with that kind of intimacy, and once that happened, he could never get enough. After everything that happened that day, he really fucking needed it.

"I–" He sniffled, blinking back the tears that stung at his eyes. "I saw the security footage. I saw my mom..."

"Oh..." Your heart clenched as you realized what he meant. "I'm so sorry you had to see that, Jack."

"We found the guys that killed her," he said quietly, his fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt. "Angel and Bobby took care of it, but I...I couldn't handle it. I'd never watched anyone die like that." Jack had done some dumbass shit as a kid, but he'd never gotten into some of the more extreme things his brothers—particularly Bobby—did. Not until his mom was taken from him.

The fact that he and his brothers had found and killed their mom's murderers was not a surprise to you. Jack already told you that was the plan, and he'd shared enough about his brothers in the past for you to know he wasn't just talking. While killing was wrong, you had nothing against them getting revenge for Evelyn as long as Jack still came home to you in the end.

"But it's done now, right? You don't have to see that again."

"Nah, it's not over yet. Someone hired them to kill her."

Your hand stopped moving. "What?" Random robbery to contract killing? A pit formed in your stomach at the thought of him getting mixed up with something like that. "Who would want to kill your mom? She was amazing." You'd only ever talked to Evelyn on the phone, but between the lovely conversations and everything Jack ever told you about her, you knew she was a special woman.

"We don't know yet. I'll have to stay a couple more days..." Though it was important to find the truth and get justice, part of him really just wanted to be back home in your little shared apartment. He wanted things to be back to normal—as normal as they could be without Evelyn Mercer in the world.

"I'll add a few days to my hotel," you said as your fingers resumed playing with his hair. The idea of an extended stay didn't bother you at all. You knew he wasn't leaving Detroit until his mom was avenged.

"You should check out and stay here with me." He looked up at you with those soft blue eyes, and you already knew you'd be doing just that with very little convincing. Jack was hard to resist. "I miss you."

"It's not like I'm back in New York." Even though you laughed, you understood exactly what he meant. The cold Michigan nights really made you appreciate sleeping with him. "I miss you, too, but I don't want to intrude on you and your family."

"You're not intruding. You're my family, too," he assured you with a smile, which you returned as you stroked his cheek. "Besides, Angel's busy with Sofi, and Bobby's gonna be annoyed by someone or something no matter what."

You'd only met his oldest brother very briefly, but based on Jack's warnings and Sofi's rant about him when she let you in the house, you didn't doubt that he was a prickly as they come.

Jack watched expectantly, hoping he wouldn't have to spend another night alone. He had a hard time getting rest without you already, but it got worse after finding out his mom died. And he couldn't help the worry that whoever he and his brothers were after could end up targeting those close to them. That you could be hurt or killed just for being in town and being his girl. You'd probably be safer at the Mercer home.

"Okay, I'll check out in the morning."

He let out the breath he'd been holding and moved up your body to place a kiss on your lips. As he pulled back, you gazed up at him with the sweetest eyes he'd ever seen, and he thought for the millionth time how lucky he was to meet you. That you'd happened to end up at one of his shows three years ago was nothing short of a fucking miracle. "I love you."

"Love you, too," you said back without hesitation.

Underneath the rock and roll look, Jack was soft and sweet. You had seen tiny hints of it when you first talked outside of the bar his band had just played in, and he slowly let you in to see the rest. He respected and cared for you in a way that no other guy ever had, he made you feel safe and loved. Knowing you did the same for him after everything he'd been through meant the world.

When he laid back down beside you and pulled the blanket up over your bodies, you quickly turned on your side and snuggled right up to him.

Jack kissed the top of your head and slowly rubbed his hand up and down your back, and that was the last thing you remembered before finally drifting off.

Waking up was not quite as peaceful as falling asleep had been. A loud banging on the door shocked you both awake just in time to hear, "Rise and shine, Princess! We got shit to do today!"

Jack groaned and buried his face in your chest again. Even with Bobby's interruption, he really didn't want to move. After all, that was his second favorite spot to put his face. You were just about as eager to get up as he was, realizing just how much you'd needed this the last few days.

"What a charming wake up call," you said with a laugh, your voice rough from sleep. Considering how he'd referred to you as Jack's beard the first time you met, and at their own mother's funeral no less, a lack of tact seemed to be Bobby's thing.

"You get used to it," he mumbled into your t-shirt. "Unless you changed your mind about staying..."

"Nope." You reluctantly threw the blanket off and untangled yourself from him, taking a glance at your watch. "We've got plenty of time for breakfast, but I do need to be at the hotel by 9:30 to get my things."

Once you stretched and finally got out of bed, Jack sat up and scrubbed his hand over his face, his hair sticking up even more than usual. You went over to his jacket to fish his zippo and the pack of cigarettes out of the pocket and toss them over to him.

"Thanks," Jack said before placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. He took a drag and watched amused as you slipped your shoes on and fixed yourself up a bit because, unlike him, you had a problem with looking like you'd just rolled out of bed.

Satisfied, you leaned down and tenderly cupped his jaw so you could press a kiss to his forehead. "See you downstairs, baby."

Jack's cheeks heated up at the sweet affection, and he blew out a cloud of smoke as you walked away with a sway of your hips.

Yeah, he was lucky as hell.

#jack mercer #jack mercer x reader #jack mercer imagine #garrett hedlund #four brothers #my fics***#minors dni

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ohbo-ohno · 1 year ago

Note

A small flower that sprays spores you happen to inhale in an attic

From the prompt list thing for Price x Reader? Please?

1k game here - no more please!

yknow im not really a big fan of sex pollen, but i gave it my best shot <3

2k of sex pollen smut with price! usual dubcon stuff because of sex pollen, but you and price are married so you're totally down <3 this is just pwp

"Hey, honey?" You call down the ladder, turning your find over in your hands.

"Yeah?" Price calls back, grunting as he drops a box on the floor below you.

You'd only felt bad for a few moments having him do all the heavy lifting, but you're perfectly content to dig through the contents of the attic. Neither of you had realized quite how full it was when you bought the house, but you'd much rather spend your day digging through old boxes than carrying them in from your moving van.

"Come take a look at this for me!"

You turn the little jar over again, shaking it just a bit and making the little flowers inside shift around the bottom. They're quite pretty - a bright pattern of red and pink, with a bit of black at the center - but you've never seen them before.

"What is it, love?" John asks from over your shoulder. You scooch closer to where he's propped on top of the ladder to the attic, forearms resting against the floor.

"Have you ever seen these before?" You pass the jar off to him, folding your legs beneath you and admiring John's shirtless form. He's a little red in the face, a lot sweaty, and you can't help but think about taking a short break from moving in...

"Hmm..." he turns the jar in his hand, just like you had. "I've never seen them before. Not too surprised, though." He shoots you a grin, offering the jar back. "Never did have much of a green thumb."

You take another peek, then pop the top of the jar open. The flowers are much more vibrant without the grime of the glass covering them, and you tip a few into your palm.

"Look," you say, offering your palm out to John. "They're so pretty!"

He takes a deep breath, leans a little further into the attic. "Not as pretty as you, love."

You roll your eyes, but can't resist the small smile. "That one was bad, even for you."

His grin is cheesy, his whole expression lovesick as he rests his chin on his folded arms. "I only speak the truth, love."

You can't help but giggle, tucking one of the flowers behind his ear. It's one of the only ones with a stem long enough to fit, and it looks quite silly next to his sweaty face and thick beard.

"There," you pat his cheek, shifting away to go back to your boxes. "Now you're as pretty as me."

"Now that will never be true."

———————————————————————

You don't see John again until that evening, when you're in the shower.

He'd spent the day downstairs, moving all your furniture about with his classic rock playing loud. You'd spent the day upstairs, finishing up your work in the attic and getting your bedroom and bathroom ready for the night while trying to drown his music out with the likes of ABBA and Madonna.

You'd brushed by each other a few times - playful dances, a bit of heavy petting over lunch - but had worked through what should have been dinner. As you wash the conditioner from your hair, you decide you should suggest pizza in bed for tonight.

You're humming to yourself when the shower door opens behind you, your husband already naked.

You smile when you get over the slight scare. "Hey, honey. Gonna join me?"

That's when you notice that something is a bit... off. He's naked but for the little flower behind his ear, which makes it easy to see how flushed his entire body is, and how obscenely hard his cock is between his legs.

"Oh," you can't help but blush a bit, turning to face him. "Feeling a little desperate, John?"

You mean it as a tease, but the sound that rips from your husband's throat is nearly broken. He's tearing into the shower before he bothers to answer, shoving you back into the slick tile and pressing every inch of skin he can against yours.

"John!" You gasp, giggling a bit when one of his rough hands jerks your thigh up and around his waist, the hot length of him resting between your folds. "Slow down, sweetheart, there's no rush."

He drops his forehead to yours, and you start to really see for the first time how needy he is. His face is almost tomato red under his whiskers, and his eyes are screwed up tight, almost like he's in pain.

"John?" You ask tentatively, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other cupping his warm cheek. "Are you alright, love?"

He shudders against you, only growing more tense. "Yeah, yeah love. Just... need to be inside of you, need it so fuckin' badly."

There's an edge to his voice you rarely hear, and there's a part of you that sparks in confusion, a bit of concern. But you arch your back for him, hike your leg a bit higher on his hip to truly spread yourself. "It's alright," you reassure, petting his cheek. "I'm always here for you, John, you know that."

He pushes into you too quickly, your body far from prepared to take something the size of him. But the slight pain melts into pleasure quickly as you melt in your husbands arms.

He's rough, rougher than he almost ever is, and you know your back will be bruised come morning. Every thrust in forces a loud gasp from you as you try desperately to breathe around his pace, your breaths syncing with his.

"Ugh," he moans against your neck, head dropping. "You feel... so good, so fucking good, love."

"You feel good too, John," you just barely manage to gasp out, nails digging deep into the muscle of his shoulders. "So- so big."

His moan is carnal, a rumbling sound that you can feel in your toes, and his thrusts somehow gets even rougher. The sound of his thighs slapping against yours is loud in the quiet bathroom, the sound of water dampened where it sprays against his back.

"God, you're like a vice," he hisses. "Tightest cunt, so good for me... perfect for me, just for me."

"Yes, yes," you chant, head resting against the tile. You rarely come from penetration alone, but hearing John's pleasure is enough for you to feel satisfied already. "Just for you, love, promise."

That's what finally pushes him over - he latches onto your neck, sucking a bruise there as he buries himself to the hilt, grinding himself as deep as he can go while moaning into your throat. You feel the spurts of his come inside of you, familiar after all these years together.

You're both panting in the aftermath, caught up in the pleasure.

You only realize he's still hard when he stands up fully, gripping your other thigh and helping you wrap it around his waist so he's fully carrying you.

"John?" You ask, shifting against him and causing you both to moan. "You're still...?"

He groans low in his chest as he carries you out of the room, confidently striding towards the bed. "I know."

"How... did you take something?"

He makes an offended sound, dropping you onto the bed and following you quickly enough after to keep himself inside of you. "Course not. Never needed any help in that department, not with you."

You're flattered, of course, but can't help but feel a little disconcerted by the fact that you can feel his come even though he's completely hard still.

"Alright," you say a moment later, tucking your legs as far up on his sides as they'll go.

He lifts his head just far enough for you to see him cock an eyebrow. "Alright?"

"Let's see how long you last, Captain."

You can feel his cock twitch inside of you, and he swallows your giggle with a kiss. He doesn't even bother to tease you back - to your slight disappointment - and instead begins to work his hips out of you, a slow drag out and a harsh push back in.

You both moan in sync, loud in the silence of your bedroom. You can't help but arch beneath him, trying to open yourself up more. As he starts to hit his stride, your knees tucked over his arms and pushed as high as he can without you pulling something, you feel the way the base of his cock rubs against your clit on every thrust in.

"Jo-John," you gasp, clinging desperately to his shoulders. "That feels so good, so good, love... oh, fuck, honey!"

"Yeah?" He grunts, face pulled tight above you. "Feel good? Gonna come for me, love? C'mon, attagirl, squeeze me tight... fuck, just like that, yes..."

He manages to get off much faster this time, but that doesn't seem to dull the intensity of his orgasm at all. He's still vocal, throwing his head back and letting all of his sounds out for you to hear. You manage to work your hips in just the right way to grind yourself against his flesh, and quickly find your own peak beneath him.

And still, it's not enough. You feel him working himself slowly against you minutes later, when you come down from your high.

You can't help but whine, your pussy oversensitive so soon after your orgasm. John doesn't pull out, though. He leans down enough to pepper kisses over your face, and begins to slowly fuck you again.

"J-John," you weekly protest, channel squeezing tight around him against your own will and drawing moans from both of you. "T-too sensitive, honey, I need a break."

"'m sorry," he pants against you, lips pressed to your cheek and leaving a small trail of spit. "I can't... I can't, love, need you too badly.

"John..."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry..." He sounds almost choked up above you, his voice cracked as he starts to pound into you faster and faster, forcing your legs higher. "I need to fuck you, love. Need to come. Can't... can't go another minute without- fuck, without you."

"You have me," you try, unable to keep yourself from trying to squirm away.

He snarls suddenly, forcing your legs so far back that your knees nearly brush the mattress. "Not yet," he spits, more beast than man above you. "Haven't... haven't given you enough."

You can only keen loudly, spine arching as the aftershocks of pain slowly morph themselves into pleasure.

Every thrust drags against oversensitive nerves, the clap of skin almost deafening. He brushes against your clit with just enough force to keep you on edge, keep you whining and moaning beneath him.

"Close," he pants, battering into you. "Just.. just a little... fuck, so close..."

"Come, John, please!"

Your own begging is what pushes him over the edge, your hole milking him for all that he's worth, even as you remain on edge.

He finally lets your legs fall from his arms, and you lightly shove at him until he falls away from you.

The both of you are panting as you lay side by side, staring up at your ceiling fan.

"Holy shit," you whisper, minutes or hours later. Your nerves feel like they're on fire, buzzing beneath your skin.

"Ditto," John echoes, sounding equally as rattled as you. It's almost impossible not to giggle at your poor husband sounding so shocked at his own stamina, and you roll into him so you can bury your face in his chest.

"What?" He asks, smile audible already. You don't even have to say anything for him to laugh too, your happiness always contagious. Soon enough he's wrapped himself around you, tucking his face safely into your hair and hiding his smile.

You fall asleep just like that, thoughts of pizza in bed long forgotten, and wonder if you can convince John to take whatever it is he must've had again sometime soon.

#this is the last one for today!#john price x reader #price x reader #john price #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #john price smut #price smut #1k celebration #bo writes

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johnbrand · 3 months ago

Text

Smoking Pays

With @aismoker

What? Can’t you see I’m in a rush?

Oh so you heard about the promotion. Yeah it was no surprise really, anyone could have predicted it.

Sure I have only been here for a year, but I came in with the qualities the boss was looking for.

Honestly, I am a bit embarrassed for you. You’ve been around since what, when the company started? And after all that time you’re still some boring office drone, while I am quickly ascending the ranks.

What’s my secret? No, I didn't bribe the boss to get this position. And before you say it, I didn’t blackmail him either. I just did my research beforehand, I figured out what would help me and the boss click on a more personal level.

Smoking obviously. Speaking of which, you’ve held me up long enough that I have to light up another one. Yeah, this is my third this morning , and I’ll probably chain my way through a pack tonight. I'll likely have some coughing ahead but there’s no better way to subdue the hacking with many more reds.

How long have I been smoking? Hmm...I guess a little over a year. When I applied for this company I picked it up, thinking it would give my resume that extra push. And boy was I right! When the boss first met me and noticed my carefully placed pack of Marlboros, he ushered me directly to HR for an immediate hire. Said I was “the type of man the office needs.” And now look at me, making six figures and not even 30!

I don’t know what smear campaign you are referring to, but I have not made any sacrifices since I picked up smoking. In fact, I would say I have only benefited from it. The smoking areas in the office are full of real men, dedicated to becoming the best version of themselves. I’m talking mentally and physically, sculpting their minds into commanding personas and their bodies into perfect shape. It was inspiring, and once you get used to all the smoke, the cravings ignite you even further.

I mean look at me. I’m in the best shape I have been in in my life. Super athletic and toned, eventually the muscle will start piling on. My voice is already lower and grittier than it was a year ago, demanding an actual presence. And sure, my hair is thinning but bald men are the true alphas! Once I’ve gone full cueball like the boss, that’s when I’ll start growing out my beard.

And as I continue this transformation, allowing smoking to shape and define me, the higher-ups will notice. The boss will notice. They may not directly see it, but subconsciously it will register. Who better to take his place than him, or at least, a copy of him? In this day and age, smoking is associated with masculinity and success.

You think I’m joking? Look at the people passing us right now. They aren’t looking at two businessmen having a conversation on the sidewalk. No, they are checking out the successful, suited stud with the Marlboro at his lips. Their eyes are gleaming with awe and wonder at the man radiating achievement and supremacy. And their minds simply disregard you, erase your existence through nicotine-fueled admiration and lust.

Look, I really gotta go. I cannot be late to my first meeting as a project lead. I’m working on that new defamation push against vaping. Our main tagline is that vaping shrinks penises. Is it even true? Well I can’t say that, but I can tell you something: smoking certainly does the opposite. Heheh…that was an improvement I had not expected to happen. So technically, it's not false as long as we compare the two.

Alright, seriously, I’ll talk to you later. Or probably not honestly, unless you decide to be a real man and do something with your life. Here, I’m about halfway through this Marlboro, so you can finish it off and I’ll light up a new one for the rest of my walk. Smoking pays, man, smoking pays.

#male tf #male transformation #smoking tf

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ya-zz · 4 months ago

Note

HI ! if its okay had an idea that ive been rotating in my head while im thirsting over this man. take ur time ik ur busy

afab gn reader, NSFW fic

Cole Cassidy with a virgin reader who is afraid they'll mess up or not know what to do so he helps guide them first time (maybe with a bit of him trying to hold back but its hard bc they're so hot LOL)

hope i didnt forget anything !

!!NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!

He notices the worried look on your face as he hovers atop of you. Cassidy traces his fingers down your cheek, meeting your gaze.

"Is everythin' okay, darlin'?"

You nod, though deep inside, you weren't so sure.

"Speak to me." Though his tone wasn't demanding, you still felt compelled to talk.

"Sorry, it's just... it's my first time." You watch as the cowboys eyes widen slightly, a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, doll, don't worry. I'll be gentle." He leans down and kisses your cheek, beard tickling your skin. Your cheeks flush in response, the heat from both bodies now making a small bead of sweat drip down your temple.

Cassidy kisses down your jawline, nipping gently at the skin on your neck. He watches for any discomfort, watching your eyes and lips for any signs of pain.

Your hands come up and hold onto his back, scratching gently at his skin as he lowers his hips against yours. His metal hand trails down your side before reaching your sex, rubbing small circles against your clit. You were already wet from the teasing earlier which made his smile grow that little bit more.

He moves his fingers down, pushing against your hole, slipping one finger inside easily. You're tight, your face contorts, pleasure and pain mixed together.

"Breathe, darlin'." He reassures you, but deep down, he wants to ravish you. "Let me know if it's too much, 'kay?"

You nod in response, a small mumbled "yes" escaping you as you relax your body. It feels good, his fingers feel good as he slowly pushes in a little further, gauging your reactions.

When he knows you're comfortable, he speeds his finger up, listening to the soft mewls that escape you. Cassidy pushes a second finger inside, watching as you gasp to the jolt of pleasure. It's taking everything within him to hold back, to take it slow just for you.

"You're doin' just fine, baby." He coos, kissing your neck. You're heating up and he can feel it. Your chest presses against his as his fingers gently pump in and out of you at a steady pace.

Lips connect once more when he moves back, your hands tangling in his hair as a desperate plea for more.

"Easy darlin'. There's no rushing." He says as he breaks free, a chuckle following his words.

Cassidy removes his fingers from you before stroking his own member. "Let me know if it's too much, sweetheart." He repeats his previous statement as he lines himself up with your pussy. He's slow, pushing in at an almost painful pace.

"C-Cass..." You whimper, hands gripping his hair.

"I know," he stops moving, letting you adjust and when you finally do, he moves again. "You're doing just fine."

The cowboy stops when his hips connect to your skin, fully sheathed inside of you. "Oh, darlin'."

"Cass..." You whine, feeling his thickness stretch you out.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." You smile up a thim, kissing him softly. "You can continue."

Cassidy's eyes soften at the trust you had in him as he pulls back and slides back in, the motions gentle. He keeps a close watch of your features, watching for any discomfort once again.

"You're taking me so good, sweetheart."

#overwatch #cole cassidy #cassidy x reader #cassidy drabble #yazzfics #yazznsfw

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geralts-yenn · 1 year ago

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Memories - part 1

Walter Marshall x OFC Maxine (second-person pov)

summary: At your brother's wedding you have to face a ghost from your past - Walter Marshall - and you find yourself lost in memories

warnings: 18+, minors DNI! drinking alcohol, vaginal fingering, hand job, protected p-in-v sex

word count: 4,8k

A/N: a little idea that got me out of my writer's block 😍 special thanks to @peyton-warren for being my wonderful beta and @raccoon-eyed-rebel for the constant support ❤️

My masterlist

“Oh, hello! Who’s that guy and why are you not throwing yourself at him?” Your brand-new sister-in-law nudged you in your side and pointed her chin towards a man standing at the bar. You followed her gaze and noticed a pair of wide shoulders under a head of untamed chocolate curls. For a second you weren’t sure, but then the man turned to the side and you cursed. You’d always recognize that dimpled nose, even when he gave his best to hide the rest of his beautiful face under a wild beard.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s Walter fucking Marshall.” Your eyes were rolling in your head furiously. Up to this moment you were praying to all the goddesses in the universe that he would be stopped by a blizzard or whatever would have kept him in Minnesota. But there he was, which meant you had to face him. Something you’ve dreaded ever since your brother told you he’d invite him to his wedding.

Vicky snorted into her champagne flute. “So that’s why Josh never showed me any photos of his most precious childhood companion.” Her eyes were roaming over Walter’s features unashamedly. “He’s delicious. Now I’m really curious why you hate him so much.”

Your prom night should have been the best day of your life. You had been so excited, your friends and you were giggling and cheering for weeks every time you were speaking about what you had planned. After dating Paul for almost a year now, you had promised him to let him get to the fourth base that night. Not just to do him a favor, you were ready. Or so you told yourself. But then the day came and with every minute that passed you got more nervous. Paul had sneaked a flask of liquor into the place and you took a sip, hoping it would loosen you up but it only made you feel more nauseous.

When you left the party, Paul’s hands kept running up and down your thigh that was revealed by the high slit in your dress. You wanted to tell him to stop, but you couldn’t. You had promised it to him after all. When Paul parked his car at the motel, you were about to vomit. You really, really couldn’t do this. And so you stopped him just as he was about to unlock the door to the room where you were supposed to lose your virginity to him.

You were scared to tell him, and rightfully so. As soon as you had finished explaining, he started yelling. Calling you a frigid whore. You still remember how you thought that this didn’t make any sense. But that night you couldn’t laugh about it. You were shaking and crying when he drove off from the parking lot, leaving you sitting on the sidewalk. The rain starting to fall felt like punishment for your stupid decision. Though you weren't sure yet if your foolishness was to say no or to come here in the first place. Either way you were cold and wet and alone.

What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t call your mom. How would you explain to her that you were in front of a cheap motel instead of your friend Kelly’s house, where you told her you’d spend the night? You couldn’t call Kelly either, she was with Charlie and probably doing exactly what you had planned for tonight. Going through all your friends in your head, you didn’t come up with one name that you dared to tell the truth about what had happened.

But then it didn’t matter anymore because a car stopped next to you and when the window rolled down you were ready to die of embarrassment.

“Need a ride?” Walter’s face was hidden in the shadow of a tree, so you couldn’t make out whether he was hiding amusement or showing concern. It didn’t matter anyway. He was your only option to get away from this stupid place, so you nodded and got up. You hadn’t expected Walter to actually get out of the car, but he did. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and guided you to the passenger’s door that he held open for you.

When he crawled back into the driver’s seat you finally could make out his handsome features. He didn’t look at you, his eyes were glued to the road. You noticed that he was clenching his jaw constantly, his muscles flexing, and the knuckles of his hands were white as he held the steering wheel in a murderous grip. Definitely concern. You were relieved about this. If there was one guy you really cared about what he was thinking about you, it was Walter, your older brother's best friend, the guy you had a crush on since forever.

“Did that stupid asshole leave you there all alone?” His voice was shaky. He was mad. You nodded with a sniffle. “I’m going to kill him! Did he hurt you?” You were shaking your head, but Walter turned to look at you, his eyes piercing. “Use your words, Max! Did he hurt you? I need you to tell me!”

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. “He didn’t.” It was a whisper but the tension in Walter’s face diminished a little, so you guessed he had heard you. “I told him that I don’t want to do this and he just got a little angry and left.”

Walter grunted through gritted teeth. “A little angry? Max, do you even hear yourself? You’ve got every right to say no and that bastard should have taken it like a man and accepted it. Fuck! I’m so mad, I want to rearrange his face.”

Walter’s anger somehow made you feel better. The way he was protective of you left a warm feeling in your chest. “I appreciate this, Walter, but there’s no need to. I told him to fuck off and never ever try to call me again.”

There wasn't really more to say and you were grateful to Walter for letting you sob in silence and not making this more embarrassing than it already was.

But then he stopped at a crossing, looking at you. “Can I bring you home? Or do you want to go somewhere else?” His look was a lot softer than earlier, as he studied your face. “I know Charlie has taken Kelly to our cabin. Else I could have let you spend the night there. But you can sleep in my room if that's ok with you. I will take Charlie's. My parents are visiting friends for the weekend.”

The thought of spending the night in Walter's bed got your heart's pace to speed up again. It almost made you laugh. Isn't this what you had dreamt of for years? The crush you had on Walter never really faded, even after you had started dating other guys. But all of this wasn't even nearly the way you had imagined it so many times, laying in bed and picturing Walter's face. Yet, it was your best option right now and so you agreed.

Walter even asked you if he should change the bedding, but you shook your head firmly, hopefully not revealing how much you wanted to sink into those sheets that held Walter's scent. You were just finished changing for the night, fortunately you had packed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, when Walter knocked on the door. After you answered with a yes, his curly head appeared in the door frame, glancing carefully into the room.

“I brought you some water.” When he had checked that you were decent and comfortable with him in the room, he took a step forward and put the bottle on his nightstand. “If you need anything, I'm in Charlie's room.” He had already turned to leave, but then you heard yourself calling his name, not knowing what made you do it. And you couldn't believe your next words yourself either.

“Would you stay a little with me? I don't want to be alone.”

Walter froze in his movements. A small eternity later, he turned to face you. “Are you sure?”

Ignoring your racing heart, you nodded and rolled to the side of the bed, making space for him to join you.

Walter moved carefully, almost as if he feared you would change your mind if he startled you. He crawled under the duvet with you and wrapped an arm over your shoulder, his hand stilling at the nape of your neck.

“Comfortable?” he asked you, and you couldn't get out more than a small yes. More comfortable than you had ever been in your life, you thought, but you would rather die than tell him that.

You lay in silence next to each other for what felt like hours, even though it probably wasn't more than a few minutes. Then you finally had gathered enough courage to speak.

“Thank you, Walter. I wouldn't have known what to do without you.” His fingers started to draw little circles over your skin.

“No need to thank me. I'm glad I found you.” He was staring at you with an intensity that left you completely unable to form any word or even thought. So instead you raised your hand to his face and carefully traced the sharp line of his jaw with your fingers.

Walter's lips parted ever so lightly, but it was the only sign it took for you. You leaned forward, your nose brushing over Walter's, his warm breath scraping over your skin. Without a second thought, you crossed the last little distance and your mouths found each other. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt his warm and soft lips against yours. This was better than everything you could have ever imagined. Walter parted his lips, inviting your tongue to explore and taste him. Butterflies were fluttering through your stomach, you felt like you were floating in midair, as his tongue started dancing with yours.

Walter’s hands roamed over your back as he deepened the kiss even further. You moaned into his mouth. You had never felt like this. There was this strange tension building in your center that you had never experienced with someone else before and it was shooting straight to that point between your legs. You wanted him to touch you. You wanted his mouth on your skin. You wanted him. So bad. But Walter seemed to hold back. His kiss was not that urgent and consuming any more and his hands stopped whenever they were touching your skin, going back to your clothed shoulders.

“Please, Walter!” you begged. Your own hands found their way under the hem of his shirt and as you brushed your fingers over his abs, he flinched, accompanied by a groan. You felt the soft tuft of hair that ran down from his stomach into the waistband of his pants. Damn, just minutes earlier you would have been sure that it would be gross to feel this. But now you were clenching your thighs together in an unsuccessful attempt to still your desire to feel something. He was everything you ever wanted and he lay here in your arms right now, grinding his hips against your thighs and pressing kisses onto your neck, making sure you felt how much he wanted this, he wanted you.

You gladly noticed that his will to resist you crumbled under your touch. He pressed himself against you and you could feel what it did to him, feeling his cock hard against your soft thigh.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage and brushed your hand over his length, restrained by the fabric of his jeans.

Walter answered your touch with a sharp breath followed by a grunt. “Fuck! Are you sure you want to do this?” His reaction made you insecure for a tiny moment, but the way he rutted into your palm gave you new courage.

“I am.” You sounded confident, but Walter wasn't convinced yet. “Promise me that you will tell me if you want me to stop, Max!” You saw the tension in his face as he waited for your answer. Nodding wasn't enough for him, his eyebrows furrowed. “I promise,” you breathed finally.

After he had heard you, Walter wasn't able to hold back anymore. He grinded his crotch up against you as his hands found their way under your shirt. When his fingertips brushed over your sides, electric shocks ran through your whole body.

Frantically, both of you tried to remove each other's clothes. Your hands got tangled as you tried to unbutton Walter's jeans. He chuckled and then helped you with the task.

You swallowed hard when you saw his erection hardly hidden in his boxer briefs. He was a lot. Definitely more than you had ever seen. Not that you were very experienced in the department of hard-ons, but it made you hesitate for a moment.

Of course, Walter noticed. “Are you okay?” You nodded as you bit back your insecurities and gave him a determined yes. You reached for him, but Walter pushed your shoulders back onto the mattress. His body pressed you down while he was licking and sucking along your neck. Your shirt was in his way as he moved down your collarbone and he gave way just long enough for you to tug it over your head before his mouth was back nipping on your tender skin.

Walter's head sank lower, his face soon buried between your breasts. You felt his lips and tongue move over your chest, leaving a trail of wetness behind that made your skin prickle.

When his mouth found its destination on one of your hardened nipples and he bit down on it, the sensation shot right to your core. You wouldn't have been able to suppress the lewd sound you made, even if you wanted to. His tongue lapped over the hard bud to soothe the ache but it only made you moan louder. Walter responded to the noises you made by grinding his cock against your thigh.

All this felt incredibly good. Way better than everything you had ever felt with Paul. When Walter moved to your other breast and treated it in the same passionate way, you pushed the thought of your ex aside. In fact, you just stopped thinking at all and let your instincts take over. Your head fell back as you moaned loudly when Walter pinched your one nipple while sucking on the other. All this wasn’t enough, there was this need between your thighs that made you feel so desperate. Your hand wrapped around Walter's wrist and guided him firmly into your panties.

“Oh, fuck!” he groaned when his fingers met the wetness that pooled between your legs. He ran his fingers along your slit a few times, gathering your arousal before he switched to rubbing circles around your clit. You bit your lip when he found just the right spot and pressure, only to curse when he left it way too soon. “No, please, this felt so good.” You weren’t even ashamed of begging. You just wanted to feel more of this.

“Let me make it a little more comfortable?” Walter asked you as he tugged on the waistband of your panties. You lifted your hips and he made quick work of rolling your underwear down your legs. Your knees fell to the side, opening up for him. And Walter was eager to get back, his fingers now moving with even more skill through your folds and around your bundle of nerves. His mouth was back on yours now, kissing you hungrily, his tongue darting into your mouth and swirling around yours the same way as his fingers were now circling your entrance.

You rolled your hips in response, showing him to move on, to finally give your aching pussy something to clench around. And Walter obeyed your silent pleas, pushing one of his fingers into you in a painfully slow movement. He was not just pumping into you, he was exploring you, inch by inch, feeling for every spot that evoked a reaction from you. And when he found what he was looking for, when you arched your back, crying out, he curled his lips into a smile and he added a second finger. You noticed the stretch, but it felt good, the way he pressed against your walls exactly where you wanted him.

Now he started to thrust his fingers into you in a steady rhythm. You moved your hips against him, fucking his fingers. Walter’s other hand held your jaw firmly as he devoured your mouth, swallowing all the sounds that wanted to pass your lips. You felt the tension building in your core, spreading through your body. “Please, I’m close!” you whimpered, Walter answered with increasing pressure against your sweet spot and you snapped. Waves of pleasure ran through your body. You were a shaking mess in Walter’s arms.

“Shush, I got you!” he whispered in your ear, pressing kisses along your neck. He held you close until your soul was finally back in your body. And you couldn’t help it, you weren’t able to suppress the stupid giggles. Walter grinned down at you. “What?” he just asked, with the smug confidence of someone who knew exactly what he had done to you. “This was good!” you told him with a wide smile.

You continued with kissing and hands roaming over each other’s bodies. But the hard cock pressing against you reminded you that Walter hadn’t gotten nearly the attention that you got from him until now and you really wanted to change this. You brushed a finger up his length until you were at the waistband of his boxers. Your thumbs dug into it and carefully pushed it down to free his cock.

Your hand wrapped around his length and you found yourself surprised at how soft the skin felt over his hard flesh. Slowly you started to stroke him. Your thumb ghosted over the tip of his cock and Walter let out a sharp hiss in response. Your eyes shot up to him, fearing you had hurt him, but the expression on his face told you had done quite the opposite. He had his eyes closed and his lips parted and when your hand started moving up and down his length again, he bit down on his lower lip. Seeing him like this made you all weak in the knees and you drank in the sight of it. Your pumps got more hasty now in the attempt to make it feel better for him, but that made Walter’s hand reach for you and stop you. “Wait!” He immediately saw the panic flashing over your face and he tried to chase it off by kissing you softly. “It’s just a little too dry. But we can change this.”

He had his hand already reaching out to his nightstand when you took it and guided it between your legs. “I know a place where it’s not too dry.” Walter cursed at your suggestion. His chest was heaving. “Baby, do you really want to do this?” His voice was deep and raspy. His constant check-ins half annoyed you, half melted your heart. “You already made me promise, Walter. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t suggest it.” To make your point clear, you steered his fingers through your wet folds and he moaned as he felt the slick at your entrance. Walter swallowed and then moved to sit on his heels. “Okay then.” He couldn’t hide his nervousness in his shaky voice, and it was relieving to know that you were not alone with your excitement. He rummaged through the drawer of his bedside table until he held a condom and a bottle of lube in his hands. He rolled the condom over his dick and spread some lube over it. You watched him pumping his sheathed cock a few times, your heart almost breaking through your chest. So this was really happening.

Walter moved to settle between your legs, holding his weight on one elbow as his other hand guided the tip of his cock to your entrance. His eyes locked with yours, a last reassuring that you wanted him, and then you felt him enter you. The feeling took your breath away, it was overwhelming. You had expected to feel pain, but there was merely a small stinging that ebbed away immediately. Slowly Walter pushed deeper, until he was buried completely in you. He was looking at you with an expression you had never seen before. Something deep and vulnerable. His chest was heaving as he hovered over you. “Breathe!” he whispered and you obeyed, taking in a deep breath as Walter started to move. You whimpered as you felt him deep inside of you. “Does it hurt?” he asked you, concerned, but you just smiled. “No, it feels unfamiliar, but in a very good way. Keep going.” And so Walter started, retreating from you and thrusting back in. It was amazing, it made you scream, nothing had you prepared for feeling this way. It was heaven. And it must have been the same for Walter. He lost his rhythm, now slamming his hips desperately into you. You loved how vocal he was, grunting with every stroke. And then he threw back his head with a loud growl and you felt his hips shudder as he reached his climax.

He pulled out of you, carefully, not to lose the condom. You felt empty without him and the kiss he pressed so firmly on your lips could barely make up for it. He held you in his arms as you both gasped for air. But when your breathing was almost back to normal, he left your side. “Just a minute. I need to take care of this.” He made a vague gesture toward his softening cock that was still covered by the condom.It took him only a minute until he was back in bed with you. “I’m sorry.” he said and you weren’t sure what he meant until his fingers were parting your lips and rubbing circles over your clit. “Let me make up for it, okay?” he asked you. You moaned but then held his hand in place. “You don’t have to do that, Walter.” you told him. And you meant it. All that you had felt with him tonight was better than you had ever imagined.“But I want to.” He resumed his ministrations between your legs. “I want you to feel good, too.” Another shaky breath later, you were able to answer him. “You already did that.” Walter smiled as he pressed a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Another one surely won’t hurt.”

*****

You were sitting in the kitchen, making up your mind how long it would take you to walk back home. Too long. But did you have any other choice? Just as you were about to get up and head back home, you heard keys in the door and a few seconds later, Walter’s little brother was standing in the room looking at you confused.

“Hi Charlie! Would you please drive me home?” He blinked at you and scratched his head. “Do you want to talk about it?” he just asked, probably running through all the possible scenarios how you ended up at his home early in the morning. But fortunately, he let go of it as you shook your head. So you had at least a little part of dignity left in his presence until Walter had time to fill him in about his last night’s conquest.

That afternoon, you found Walter standing on your porch when you were on your way to meet Kelly. “Josh isn’t home,” you told him indifferently, not even slowing down as you passed him. You had ignored all his calls and the messages he had sent. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to talk to you. To act as if he cared. Seeing him wouldn’t change this. Though it made it impossibly hard. It was just unfair how handsome he was. And when you looked into his face, he almost appeared to be sad. But you knew better, he was just tired of you already.

His hand wrapped around your wrist as he stepped in your way. “Maxine, stop acting like nothing had happened. We need to talk.” You rolled your eyes at him and tried to free from his grip. Walter let go of your hand with a sigh.

“Don’t make this bigger as it was, Walter.” you told him, rubbing your wrist as if his touch had burnt your skin. “We’ve been having fun, that’s it. Can we go on with our lives now?” You couldn’t even convince yourself with your words, but that was never the plan. You had to keep Walter away from you. Getting your heart broken by him was more than you could bear, so you decided to run before it was too late.

Walter was shouting after you as you stormed down the steps. “Let me take you on a date! Give me a chance, Max!” A heavy weight pooled in your stomach as you heard it. This was all you ever wanted. But you were way too scared to act on it. Just thinking of your night with him almost broke you. How would it be to have more precious moments with him and then losing it all? Because that’s what was supposed to happen. He’d go back to college and find someone else. In no way could he ever be truthfully interested in you.

You had to turn him down a few more times. Later you started ignoring him just completely. That didn’t stop him. He gave you his damn puppy eyes and tried to talk to you. So you started to be mean to him. You said stupid things you didn’t mean, just to keep him away. And after a while it worked. The looks he gave you had changed. They were filled with anger and frustration now. And soon you found yourself hating each other. Initially, you weren’t sure if you just pretended to feel so, but after a while you had convinced yourself that this was what you felt for him. You hated looking at his stupidly gorgeous face, you hated his voice, the jokes he made, the way he was strutting, as if the world belonged to him. You hated that all the girls lay at his feet, acting as if he hung the moon. You hated him.

And Walter hated you. His jokes always went against you. He mocked every one of your life decisions. He laughed about every single thing you did.

And then he moved away. And somehow it almost felt like you missed him. And that made you hate him even more.

“I guess you never told Josh about that night?” Vicky smiled at you with amusement. She loved hearing about dramas like that. But you couldn’t be mad at her. It had been such a long time. It should be a funny story to tell by now. Yet, it still hurt to think about it. You never managed to get over that heartache. Well, that’s just how it is when your heart gets broken for the first time in your life, right?

“You know, you should have talked to him.” Vicky told you and you looked at her quizzically. “Who, Josh? No! He would have killed Walter. Or me. Probably both of us.”

Vicky chuckled but shook her head. “Not Josh. Walter! You should have been honest with him about your feelings.”

You sighed. It wasn’t as if you had never thought about it. To be fair, you have asked yourself the same questions every day ever since. Should you have told him? Would it have been a bad idea to let him take you on a date? Would you two have had a chance? But it didn’t matter because you didn’t let him. And you would never know what could have been if you had decided differently back then, when you were eighteen and so much in love and so incredibly stupid.

Your sister-in-law watched you with narrowed eyes as you sat there thinking about your past with Walter. “It doesn’t matter, Vicky. We’re not teenagers anymore. It’s too late for that now.”

But she shook her head. “It’s never too late. He’s here. You can tell him now.”

A ridiculous voice in your head told you that she was right. That all it took was to take a step towards him and see what would happen. But you shook it off.

Part 2

#walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall fic #henry cavill characters #memories #walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fluff #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction

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saetgvia · 6 months ago

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spark | wriothesley

in which you and wriothesley find an unlikely spark.

CHAPTER ONE: A NOT SO MEET-CUTE

prince!wrio x fem!noble!reader, invented country au

✧ genre: fluff, angst...? maybe...? if you squint...?, arranged marriage trope

✧ tw: none, if you see any lmk <3

✧ word count: 1.32K

✧ playlist: spark - taeyeon, radio - lana del rey, deja vu - txt, darl+ing - seventeen, invu - taeyeon, agora hills - doja cat, killin' me good - jihyo, i like you (a happier song) - doja cat & post malone, fever - enhypen, eleven - ive, hype boy - newjeans, hard to love - rose, sour grapes - le sserafim, oh my god - adele, my head & my heart - ava max, nonsense - sabrina carpenter, the feels - twice

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

i. a not so meet-cute

'what.' you stare in disbelief at your parents. 'there's no way. NO. WAY.' arranged marriages only happen in books. of course you'd heard of them in your country of azura, some distant cousin being married to some lord or other for alliances or whatever, but you'd always been free to do what you wanted, marry who you chose. your parents never put any restrictions on you, but this out of the blue is so- 'unexpected! what? i thought-' 'circumstances change.' your father replies shortly. 'i- you- you can't do this!' you cry, becoming more and more panicked. you wanted to fall in love, marry someone you chose! and now, you were going to be pawned off to someone you didn't even know. wait...

'can you at least tell me who i'm being given away to?' 'you're not being given away-' 'oh mom, it's fine. i know how this works. so, who is it?'

wriothesley. the prince of emeia. a name that struck fear into your very soul. not because he was a terrible ruler or a womaniser. he was, in fact, the complete opposite. you'd heard tales from all over the kingdom in the form of gossiping ladies giggling behind fans, sipping their tea and gushing to your mother. she, in turn, laughed daintily, and turned to you with a pointed look. how could she even know? his parents kept him hidden away from the world, their precious son too perfect for mere commoners. no, you were afraid because you didn't know him. because he seemed too good to be true. and most of all, because he was about to become your life. you should have seen this coming.

'i won't go.'

your father's eyes narrow, and you can see his neatly trimmed beard bristling in anger. you've never seen him like this before, and over something as silly as an arranged marriage? your mother puts a placating arm on his bicep, and he shoots her a look, both of them communicating through their gaze. finally, he exhales, evidently trying to calm himself, and speaks.

'we... we're in debt. remember that deal with ceria? the cherry liqueur? they've been selling it for exorbitant prices without giving us any of the profits, and we've been depending on that to get us out of last winter's snowstorms. emeia noticed us struggling and have so kindly offered to refill our coffers in exchange for your hand.' there's a hint of annoyance in his tone, and you begin to understand just how much this is weighing on him. but still, how can you throw your life away like that?

'i'll think about it.'

⭑⭑⭑

'but i don't WANT to!' you shriek into your pillow, kicking your feet in true spoiled girl fashion. your maid, or rather, your friend, giselle, winces, and tries to comfort you.

'hey, maybe it won't be so bad! everyone says he's a sweetheart!'

'but everyone ISN'T BEING MARRIED OFF TO HIM!'

'think about your parents, hon! you can always divorce him later, run away, fake your own death-'

she breaks off at your deadpan gaze, and starts to giggle, until you start to giggle, and you're both in your bed cackling uncontrollably. you wipe tears of mirth from your eyes, and look at giselle over the rumpled sheets, her eyes twinkling, and you wish there were more people like her in the world. sitting up, you clasp her hands between yours, and trace the lines on her weathered palm. you exhale, and make up your mind. you have to marry wriothesley.

'giselle... i'll marry wriothesley. but only if you come with me.'

⭑⭑⭑

'woah woah woAH-' you cry as you stumble. your beautiful, floor-length cherry-red dress, so stunning to look at when you were standing in one place, was nothing but a nuisance when you were walking. for comfort, you'd opted for soft velvet flats instead of the heels sent for you; you could see the flaws in this decision now. but instead of breaking your nose, you're met with shoes. shiny leather shoes, buckled with silver, and a pair of strong - warm - arms gripping your own. slowly raising your head, your eyes land on a beautiful face. chiseled jawline, chiseled nose, chiseled forehead, somehow his neck is also chiseled. but his lips, so plump and pink and soft, and his eyes, like chips of blue ice, hold a twinkle of mirth.

'woah there, careful. wouldn't want you to get hurt.'

his voice is honey, smooth and sweet, and it washes over your ears. you can't stop staring, enthralled by his gaze.

'cat got your tongue?'

you snap out of your daze, realising you're still half on the mysterious stranger, and stumble backwards. you brush your hands over your dress, the gold embroidery rough under your fingers.

'sorry. i uh- i have to go.'

you picked up your skirts and hurried back towards the throne room. you didn't think you could get so lost trying to go to the bathroom! stopping before a mirror adorning the wall, you take a quick look at your appearance. the crimson dress fit your figure wonderfully, golden embroidery curling up the sides and front of your dress, forming a pattern of flames that ended just below your neckline. your hair, so lustrous and thick, had managed to escape its tight bindings, so you gasp heavily as you catch your breath and tie your hair up at the same time, the ribbon cherry-red to match your dress. adjusting yourself one final time, you nod to the guards outside to open the door for you, and walk into the throne room.

you're once again taken by surprise at the grandness of it all. absolutely everything inside is scarlet, a stark contrast to the cool blue drapes of azura. you'd always found it funny how blue was your dukedom's colour and yet your primary export was cherries, something so very opposite. the floor, carpeted in lush red and cream formed a pathway up to the raised thrones, all three of them cushioned by velvet and adorned with gold scrollwork and filigree. behind the thrones and all around, rich tapestries decorate the walls, vermilion depictions of the kingdom's greatest victories. you weren't sure if they were there to celebrate or intimidate. maybe both. a big, booming laugh reaches your ears, and your gaze is drawn to the antechamber towards the back of the room. ah, so that's where they've gone to. you scurry towards the chamber, nodding with as much regal-ness as you could muster towards the servants who caught your eye and sank into a deep curtsy or bow. straightening your dress, again, out of habit, you step into the room.

your parents are laughing, your father releasing his great guffaw and your mother tittering behind her gloved hand. the king of emeia, a warm, welcoming person with greying ebony hair and soft blue eyes was telling some kind of story, while his wife, the queen, sat, watching the scene with adoration and satisfaction. the queen noticed you first, her brown eyes crinkling into a sweet smile as she noticed you.

'oh there you are! we were wondering where you'd gone.'

'sorry... i got a little lost.' you take your seat on another velvet sofa, picking up your cup of tea. the servants appeared to have brought more plates of food in, the table once again covered in delicate china piled high with macarons and pastries and little sandwiches cut into perfect triangles. you pick up one of the treats, a golden swirl of pastry with colourful fruit peeking out, and bite into it. it's heavenly, deliciously flaky and sweet on your tongue. you pick it up and munch happily on it again.

'ah, here he is. wrio! here is the girl we wish for you to marry.'

you choke. because when you look up, you see the same chiseled features, the same lips, the same eyes and the same smile.

'THAT'S wriothesley?'

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from saetgvia: i have never started writing a fic so fast oh my god??? very excited for this fic and i hope you are too <3 stay tuned will have part 2 coming out soon!

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please like and reblog my work! tumblr relies on reblogs to function, so help my work be seen by more people <3 my spark taglist and overall is now open, drop an ask if you want to be added! just specify which one.

#fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x fem!reader #spark #genshin impact wriothesley #fluff #arranged marriage

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hxltic · 1 year ago

Note

can you do capt price with an s/o who used to have braces (the reader has glasses) and proce found this out cause like he was going through all photo albums and stumbled upon readers old pics when the reader was like in middle school (OH AND ALSO IMAGINE THE READER BEING A METALHEAD IN MIDDLE SCHOOL AND UNTIL NOW AND PRICE IS JUST SO SUPRISED HAHAHAH)

I am so sleepy so this may be bad or short but i find this hilarious

One of the reasons Price loved you was because you were absolutely gorgeous. Your hair complimented your eyes, and the jewelry you wore sat glistening on your skin. Your figure gave him something to grab onto, all his favorite parts of your body on display when you wore those tight fitting dresses for the summer.

When you brought the man home to your parent’s house, you’d expected him to be downstairs helping out for dinner despite how much you tell him to rest. It’s the sweet, traditional side of him.

Not in your childhood room, silently looking through things that aren’t technically hidden, so you can’t get upset with him for noticing.

And it wasn’t the records plastered on your wall with a protective glass over them, or the stickers permanently stuck to the sides of your mirror—it was the pictures. All in relatively small frames that didn’t have the best quality, but good quality enough for him to see the worst of you. You stroll out the bathroom and close the door to the man holding one and chuckling to himself. His brow was turned up in amusement.

“Put. That. Down.”

He turns to you with the frame still in hand, his face never wavering even though you looked like you were about to combust with embarrassment. Cheeks red, eyes blown wide darting anywhere else but him, and hands coming up to cover your face.

The worst part was, you knew exactly which picture he was holding. It was you and two other girls, one of which you don’t speak to anymore. Anyway, your teeth were dark with black braces to match the atrocious personality you’d invented for yourself at the time, and your haircut was one you try your best to forget about. You really wish you would’ve thrown that away.

It doesn’t help your features look the exact same.

The only difference was you were wearing your prescription glasses, the ones you brought into adulthood, but they were somewhere tucked in a drawer as your contacts held their spot.

“Why? You look adorable.” He teases. You looked far from that. You were a menace.

His perfectly sculpted beard moves as he tips his head back in laughter, genuinely taken aback by young you. You somehow are still the same, just more tolerable, with a snappy attitude on top but a lovey dovey mess underneath.

“Oh my god.” You wanted to roll yourself up in a ditch and never escape. The only reason you kept that picture was because the other girl has the same one. The date was written on the back in marker, but you didn’t have to look to know it was during your darkest days.

You finally calm yourself and blink up to your spouse, who seemed to be in thought. His mouth opened to ask, then it closed, and it took everything in you to pretend you didn’t see it. You just knew it would be something else by the taunting half-smile on his face.

Instead, you asked him what he was about to say. You shouldn’t have.

“I searched up the band on the wall. They still around?” He asked.

And while the question seemed purely genuine, you did not take it as such. One side of you wanted to tell him, “No, they stopped making music a while ago,” and the other half is saying, “Kill me now.”

Now he knows you used to listen to metal, but not just the regular kind; the barely coherent, head-bopping, voice-ripping kind. If the man wasn’t older, and this was Gaz, he wouldn’t have hesitated to call you emo.

“No,” you mustered up. You tried your best to not return to the previous state of embarrassment, but knowing your husband, he’d now look into it and try to get you printed shirts for your birthday and whatnot.

He didn’t openly tell you how weird or concerning it was, but this was worse. When someone won’t tell you something directly, but you just know what they’re thinking anyway.

“I didn’t think a pretty lady like you would listen to that.”

. .

The entire way to the dinner table he was on and off laughing. It even got the point he had to temporarily excuse himself, just somehow unable to rid the image from his mind. Even though that’s far from what he wanted.

This late in the relationship and your mother still has horror stories to tell.

#cod mwf2 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mwii #call of duty #john price #captain price #cod price #price x reader #captain john price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price x female reader #captain price cod #captain price x y/n #price mw2

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 1 year ago

Text

Something There (Chapter 2)

7.1k words Roy Kent x Reader Warnings: Language, enemies-to-lovers, some sexual references, Roy still not being excited about women's sports, childish arguments between adults who clearly want each other

Series Masterlist

Roy threw his bag over his shoulder with a loud groan. Much to his annoyance, he had to start his day by parking on the far side of the lot; there were way more cars than he was used to, especially this early, and he didn’t recognize any of them. Whatever. Maybe Rebecca had some publicity event he’d forgotten about. Wouldn’t be the first time.

He walked into the Dog Track, only vaguely aware of the palatable excitement buzzing in the air as he went down the hall. It wasn’t unusual for him to only nod to people as he passed by instead of stopping to say hello, so that’s what he did, a bit creeped out by the wide smiles on people’s faces as they chattered in hushed tones. Weird.

The reason for the cars and the excitement finally smacked him in the face when he walked opened the door the changing room and found it full of women in sports bras, most of whom only offered him passing glances as they chattered animatedly to one another.

“Oh shit.”

Roy picked up his pace and hurried into his office, noticing its closed blinds and Nate very intentionally focusing on the white board by Roy’s desk. Without quite knowing why, Roy kept walking until he found himself standing in the Whippets’ office.

The American manager, dressed today in leggings and a Whippets jacket (still looking stupidly pretty, which Roy did his best to ignore), looked up from her heavy conversation with Lucas, eyebrow arched. “What’s up with you?”

Roy made a face, not enjoying the mocking tone in her voice. Or the fact that she was speaking to him at all. “Fuck d’you mean?”

Clearly stifling a giggle, she shrugged. “Well, you just charged into my office looking so red in the face it’s almost concerning. Do I need to call you a doctor or something?”

His eyebrows furrowed further. “There’s women changing in the- in the-”

“Changing room,” she finished for him, nodding emphatically. “That’s kind of what it’s for.”

“But it’s women.” Roy knew he sounded stupid as soon as the words left his mouth.

Her amused eyes darted to Lucas before refocusing on Roy. “Well, yeah. I manage a women’s team. Sorry if that wasn’t clear,” she snarked.

He blinked a few times, the warmth in his face growing from annoyance. “Well, you guys should fucking tell us when your team is using shit. Make a schedule or some shit. That way we know what the fuck’s going on.”

She stared at him coolly. “There is a schedule. Coach Beard made it.” Condescension dripped from her voice, letting Roy know she really didn’t have the patience for him.

Right. Roy had gotten a group email from Beard and had, of course, ignored it. He really needed to get his shit together.

When Roy didn’t respond, she continued, her expression completely icy now. “Huh. Every coach I’ve ever known has always made sure they knew what was going on in their club.” She turned to Lucas. “Is this a British thing?”

The assistant coach shrugged and pretended to start typing on his computer. He was staying the fuck out of whatever this was. Smart man.

Roy cleared his throat, feeling like he was losing a game he hadn’t signed up for. ““Well, I mean, I don’t want them to be uncom-”

“Coach Kent, I have had mostly male coaches for most of my career. Wearing a sports bra in front of men is not a big deal to any of these women. Just like being shirtless in front of me isn’t a big deal to your guys.” She spoke slowly, as if to a child.

He fucking hated it. “Just don’t want my guys making them uncomfortable,” he mumbled, no longer able to look her in the eye.

Her eyes narrowed as she brought herself to her full height and closed the space between them, bringing her face close to his, so close that if he leaned forward just a centimeter their noses would touch. “If they’re planning on making my team uncomfortable, then that’s a Roy Kent problem. If you can’t keep your team in check and make sure they act right, then you need to figure your shit out. Lucas, you’ve shared changing rooms with women’s teams before. Ever seen it be a problem?”

The coach, who was clearly listening with great interest, kept his eyes on the computer screen. “Nope.”

“Didn’t think so.” She turned back to Roy. “I’ll go ahead and assume you weren’t the one who left the lovely little notes in the lockers for us then.”

“That was Isaac’s idea.” Coach Beard appeared in the door that led out to the hall. The door Roy wished he’d used that morning.

“Good morning, Coach,” she greeted, her voice suddenly pleasant. “Isaac… McAdoo, right? He’s your captain?”

Beard nodded. “He thought it would be nice to leave a little something, let the ladies know they’re very welcome here at Nelson Road.” He gave Roy a pointed look before continuing. “They stayed after practice yesterday to write the notes and tidy up the lockers. It was Sam’s idea to get the water bottles.”

The way her face lit up made Roy’s stupid heart skip a beat. “Oh! Those are great. Make sure to thank the guys for us.” She turned to Roy, all friendliness gone. “Your players got these for us.” She pointed to the blue water bottle on her desk, the Whippets’ logo prominent. “They’re pretty nice guys. Must’ve learned from Nate and Beard.”

Ouch. With a scoff, Roy rolled his eyes. “Well-”

She looked at the nonexistent watch on her wrist. “Oop, would you look at that. Time for the W.F.C. Richmond’s first ever practice.” She glared at Roy. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

Roy had to forcibly stop himself from watching her as she sauntered out of the offices, calling for her team to head out to the pitch.

Coach Lucas patted Roy on the shoulder as he followed suit. “There’s no winning against her once she gets going. Trust me,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Roy grunted, mouth in a straight line, pretending like he wasn’t focusing on getting his heartrate back to normal. Coach Beard looked thoroughly amused as Roy stayed still as a statue, waiting to hear total silence from the changing room before sulking back to his own office, where Nate quickly pretended to look busy and not like he’d been eavesdropping.

Beard’s eyes remained on Roy. “Boy, she knows how to push your buttons,” he mused.

“Does not,” Roy grumbled, feeling a bit like a schoolboy being badgered by his friends. He dropped into his chair, giving it a little spin from side to side, arms crossed stubbornly. “I don’t have fucking buttons.”

Lucas and I stood shoulder to shoulder as we watched the Whippets scrimmage. Under my sunglasses, my eyes were wide with joy. They were good, so good. When we signed these women, we knew there was going to be a lot of talent on this squad. But we could only dream of the chemistry we were already seeing on day one.

“Shit, can you imagine once they’re actually used to each other?” As always, Lucas was reading my mind.

I nodded. “Un. Fucking. Stoppable.” We bumped fists and knocked our hips into each other, a gesture we’d started doing when he was my coach in college. A gesture I knew we’d be making a lot this season.

“Oi!”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was shouting and who they were shouting at. With a groan, I turned around. Sure enough, Roy Kent was heading towards Lucas and I, looking ready for a fight. At this point, I wasn’t sure his face was capable of any other expression.

“Yeah, Coach Kent?” I pulled down my sunglasses, glaring at him from over the top, not giving a shit about professionalism or sharing or any of the other things I had promised Rebecca I’d be totally capable of.

Now standing in front of us, he nodded towards my scrimmage. “We need the pitch.”

I glanced at my phone. Sure enough, it was just past time for us to give up the field so the men could use it. Dammit.

Now, if it was Beard or Nate who had come out and asked us to give up the pitch, I would have gladly done so, and would have easily apologized. But because it was Roy Kent who was demanding that we move, my heels dug in all on their own.

“We’re almost done,” I answered breezily, as if he really didn’t matter to me. Which he didn’t.

“Oh no.” He stared at me indignantly. “You made a big fucking deal about there being a fucking schedule. I’m just following it.” He turned to the pitch, where my players continued their scrimmage. “Whistle!” A few women stopped, their faces perplexed. “Get off the fucking pitch!”

My vision went red. “Hey!” I grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face me. “You don’t fucking tell my team what to do!” I blew my whistle. “Keep going!” When play resumed, I looked back at Roy, whose face was nearly purple. “Roy Kent, don’t you ever tell my squad what to do, you fucking hear me?” My hands were balled into fists at my side. “If I were a man-”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Oh, fuck that. You and I both know that this has nothing to do with you being a woman and has everything to do with us needing the fucking pitch. So, knock off with your feminism for a fucking minute.”

He was right. I knew deep down that he was right. But something about the way he looked at me just lit a fire that I didn’t know if I could control. There was no way I could let him win.

I folded my arms and blew some loose hair out of my face. “You could try please,” I grumbled, knowing I looked like a pouting teenager and not a professional soccer coach.

His eyebrows flew up. “I’m sorry? You want me to say please? When it’s my turn on the pitch? Are you fucking joking?”

“Beard and Nate would have said please.”

His eyes narrowed, an unwilling acknowledgement that I was completely correct. “Fine.” He gritted his teeth. “Please.”

Every ounce of coldness returned to my body. “There, was that so hard?” I purred mockingly.

Before Roy could respond- probably something involving the word fuck- Lucas brought his whistle to his lips and blew it hard. “Alright ladies, let’s go! Bring it in!” He looked at the two of us, eyebrows raised. “If you two are still flirting, I’m going to take these gals to the weight room, cool?”

“Fuck off,” Roy and I scoffed in unison.

Once Lucas stopped laughing his ass off, we headed to the weight room and got our players started on their workouts. Finally, I turned to Lucas, who was still grinning.

“We weren’t flirting.” My tone was flat, blunt.

Lucas snorted. “Oh, you were totally flirting. So was he, to be fair.” He shrugged. “You could definitely do worse than Roy Kent, I’ll give you that. Man’s a legend. And still pretty hot.”

“Can’t stand that man,” I mumbled, wondering if I was trying to convince Lucas or myself. “He’s the fucking worst.”

“Then have some really passionate hate sex,” Lucas suggested, waggling his eyebrows. “Do something to take care of that tension between you two.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know, in some cultures, this is sexual harassment.”

“And in some cultures,” Lucas countered, “the way you look at Roy Kent would mean you have to marry him.”

Roy sighed as he leaned back in the chair in Doctor Sharon’s office. It had been a full week of sharing Nelson Road with the fucking Whippets. Of sharing it with her. And Roy felt like he’d aged an entire decade in that time.

They glared at each other in place of a greeting. They had shouting matches on the pitch. They muttered swear words at each other in the weight room. They rolled their eyes whenever the other was mentioned. And on more than one occasion, they got in each other’s faces, noses almost touching, lips way too close for Roy’s comfort.

He knew better. He fucking knew better. He hadn’t spent all that time with Ronald fucking McDonald for nothing. He’d grown and changed and become a better man. He’d learned to control the rage that thundered in his chest and to use it constructively. He’d become friends with Jamie Tartt of all people. Fuck, he even met with Dr. Sharon once a month. And yet here was this Yank, with her leggings and red lipstick and cocky grin, coming in and undoing all of it.

Roy closed his eyes as he listened to Doctor Sharon settle at her desk after closing the door. There was no way she hadn’t heard about what was going on between the two managers; everyone at the Dog Track knew what was happening, despite the assistant coaches’ combined efforts to keep things under control. He was surprised they hadn’t gotten called into Rebecca’s office to be properly shouted at like the children they were.

“You seem tired, Roy.” Doctor Sharon’s gentle voice made his eyes snap open. “Everything alright?”

He grunted, crossing his arms. No use dancing around things. “It’s the new women’s team,” he grumbled. “Their manager and I….” He glanced up at the ceiling, as if it held the right words to describe the white-hot rage he felt every time he looked at her. “…. Don’t get along.”

Doctor Sharon nodded. “I’ve heard.”

She didn’t say anything else, so Roy went on. “She’s just really fucking infuriating, y’know? All cocky and full of herself. Acts entitled to the pitch and the weight room and the changing room. And of course, Beard and fucking Nate like her and the fellas all act like she’s God’s gift to football. Just because she’s won a couple of trophies.”

“Was all of this your first impression of her?” Doctor Sharon asked after a moment.

Roy squirmed a little. “Well, I mean I met her at a club actually,” he admitted. “Right before she started working here. And I didn’t know who she was. And I made a comment implying that she wanted to flirt with me for attention, because I’m, well, me.” Fuck, he felt insufferable saying that part out loud. “And then I came into work and- fuck- there she is. Fucking stuck up as hell.” He shrugged. “And she’s shit at sharing,” he mumbled.

“Hmm.” Doctor Sharon looked thoughtful for a moment. “Have you thought about what it’s like for her right now?”

Her voice always calmed him down. “How d’you mean?”

She looked him straight in the eye. He liked that about her. “Well, she’s just given up her entire life to move here, where she knows literally one person, and she’s got a lot of responsibility on her shoulders to lead a football team that doesn’t know her yet. Sounds a bit like someone else we know, hmm?”

Roy shook his head. “No. She’s nothing like him. She’s arrogant and conceited and cocky and-”

“That sounds like the way you describe yourself at that age,” Doctor Sharon mused. Roy simply grunted, so she continued. “And, like her, you know what it’s like to suddenly be away from home and everyone you love, don’t you?”

He thought way back, to when he was a child, his grandad dropping him off with his blankie. “I was a fucking kid,” he argued. “That was different.”

Doctor Sharon shook her head. “We don’t compare baggage, remember?”

Roy nodded in defeat. “Fuck. Sorry. I know.” He fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “’m just really fucking annoyed about sharing Nelson Road,” he mumbled, hoping to change the topic a little.

Apparently, Doctor Sharon was going to let him. “Why is that?”

“Because it’s ours,” he said simply. “We finally got into a rhythm, you know? Lasso came in and turned everything upside down, turns me upside down, then he fucking left. And then Rebecca decides to put me in charge.” Roy shook his head. “And I get one fucking year to figure out how to be a manager before she brings in an entirely new team? It’s just a lot.”

Doctor Sharon nodded sympathetically. “That is a lot of change in a short time,” she affirmed. “How can we deal with that?”

Roy felt good as he walked out of Doctor Sharon’s office at the end of their hour. They’d discussed how Roy could cope with all the stress, about the things he could control to feel like he wasn’t helpless against all this change, and even some conflict resolution strategies she wanted him to try. Maybe he didn’t have to be an absolute prick about all this.

Of course, those thoughts went out the window when Roy turned a corner and saw George Willows. Everyone thought Roy had hated Trent Crimm, but George Willows was a whole other story. He was Roy’s least favorite journalist, to the point where the man didn’t even come to the Greyhounds’ press conferences due to the high chances of being screamed at.

And who should Willows be chatting with in a particularly friendly-looking manner, looking more like two flirting teenagers than professionals?

“Oi.” Roy furrowed his brow, keeping his eye on George, avoiding looking at a certain pretty American. “Fuck are you doing here?”

“We have an interview,” Coach Buck pipped up, scowling at Roy. “Did you need something, Coach Kent?”

She always sounded like she was spitting out his name.

Roy nodded. “Yeah. I need this prick-” He pointed to George. “-to get the fuck out of here before I escort him out myself.”

Before she could retort, George put his hands in front of himself defensively. “Hey, I’m not here for the Greyhounds, Roy. Just a little fluff piece on the Whippets and their new coach.” He smiled down at the manager when he mentioned her. “Help the people of Richmond know just how lucky they are to have her.”

The beaming smile on her face, aimed completely at George Willows, made Roy’s chest go painfully tight.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck off,” he groaned. “Honestly, they couldn’t have sent literally anyone else? What, it’s so hard to find someone to yammer off questions and hold a fucking tape recorder?”

“They use phones now, Grandad,” Jamie Tartt teased as he passed by, hair still damp from his shower. He saluted. “G’night, Coach Buck.”

“Night, Jamie!” she called, smiling at the striker. Apparently, she had a smile for everyone but Roy. Indeed, it disappeared when she glared at him. “Coach Kent, can I help you with something?”

Roy’s mouth went dry. Why the fuck did he let this woman get to him?

Since Roy wasn’t talking, she turned to George Willows. “Why don’t you head on into my office? I’ll be there in a moment.” She pointed the way to her office, all friendliness. Her frown reappeared once he was gone. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“That guy fucking sucks,” Roy said plainly. “Seriously. All of the press sucks, that guy might actually be the fucking devil.”

Her eyeroll rivalled the ones Roy was known for. “Well, if Roy Kent hates him, he must be a lovely person. Maybe even the second coming of Jesus Christ. If there’s nothing else you need to bitch about, I’d love it if you kindly fucked off, Coach Kent. I have an interview.” With that, she turned and swaggered off, with Roy trying his best to avoid watching her receding figure and ignoring the warmth in his cheeks when he failed.

We were coming close to the start of the season, and I felt multitudes calmer than I thought I would. My team was fantastic, and they seemed to like me as much as I liked them. Lucas and I had been working hard on our plays and were constantly trying to figure out who our captain would be; with so many strong leaders, it was a fun problem to have.

“Excellent job today, ladies!” I called out as I strolled through the locker room. “See you all in the morning!”

The players called out their goodnights as they headed to their lockers or to the showers. I smiled when I walked into the offices and saw Nate and Beard at their desks.

Coach Beard had done a good job with the schedule, no matter how much Roy Kent bitched about it; each day, the teams rotated between either starting practice an hour early or ending an hour later, so we didn’t have too much overlap in the showers and locker room. Today was our day to end late. Rebecca had said this was temporary, that hopefully she’d eventually build us our own training facility and just use Nelson Road for games, but I didn’t mind the sharing. Not with the Greyhounds, who were gracious and kind and made sure my team felt welcome. Not with Beard and Nate, who were friendly and always offering help with anything we needed as our first match quickly approached. The only problem was- well, I didn’t need to think about him right now.

“Hello, Greyhounds,” I greeted politely. “You guys all done for the day?”

Nate smiled. “Yes, all done. And you guys? Er, gals?” He paused for a moment, his face scrunched in thought. “Ladies?”

I laughed. “Gals and ladies both work just fine,” I assured him. “And yeah, we’re wrapped up.” I paused, looking at Nate thoughtfully. “Hey, could I have Lucas run some plays by you? I’ve heard you’re something of a whiz with plays and strategy.” I shot a wink in Beard’s direction. “Some people told me you’re a real wonder kid.”

Nate’s smile widened. “Oh, yes, absolutely, I’d love to help.”

Beard gave me a nod of approval as Nate jumped up to go find Lucas in our office. “That was very nice of you.”

I shrugged, taking Roy’s empty chair, not caring if he walked in and saw me in it. “Nice has nothing to do with it. We’ll take any help we can get. If Nate’s as good as you’ve said- which I’m sure he is- I hope you all don’t mind sharing that brain of his from time to time.”

“I’m fine with it. And Nate would be thrilled to help you out. Just don’t let Roy hear about it,” Beard teased. “He’s not one for sharing.”

“Especially not with me,” I hummed with an eyeroll. I wondered if I was damaging my eyesight from doing that so much lately. “Has he always been like this?”

Coach Beard looked thoughtful for a moment. “Roy… is a tough cookie,” he said carefully. “He didn’t exactly love Ted and me when we first got here. But we broke through those walls, and honestly, we’re pretty close now. He was the best man at my wedding.” He tapped his pen against his desk. “I actually thought he’d have an easier time with this whole women’s team thing, if I’m being honest.”

“Great, so it’s me he hates, not women’s sports,” I joked, earning a sympathetic half-smile from Beard. My eyes landed on a photo hanging on the wall, one of the three Greyhound coaches and another mustached man, one I knew immediately even if we’d never met. “Bet you all miss him a lot,” I mused.

A small sigh escaped Beard’s lips. “You have no idea.” His voice was the softest I’d heard it. “He’d get you and Roy all sorted out, that’s for sure.”

The tip of my nose went warm, thinking about all the shit the other coaches had dealt with over the past few weeks. “I’m really sorry about-”

Beard shook his head. “Growing pains,” he said simply. “You’re both good coaches. Both passionate about the sport. Which makes you both a little hardheaded. You’ll figure it out.” He paused. “Or Rebecca’ll fire you both.”

Despite his serious face, I laughed. “Guess that’s a good motivation to stop calling him a fucking asshole in the hallways, huh?”

Coach Beard’s smile matched mine. “Whatever works.” His phone pinged, calling his attention to it. “Gotta head out. My wife made sushi for dinner for the first time so I should probably grab some stomach medicine.” He looked at me thoughtfully. “We’ll have you over sometime. If we invite Roy, we can have a four-way screaming contest.”

A little perplexed by what he meant by that, I nodded. “Sure, Coach. Enjoy your food poisoning. Maybe tell the missus that you had some weird English food for lunch so you can blame that.”

He tapped his head. “Smart. Love it.” With a wave, he turned and went through my office, offering quick goodbyes to Nate and Lucas.

After heaving myself out of Roy’s chair, I peeked into my office. Nate and Lucas were poring over our playbook, discussing how to adjust a particular play we’d been struggling with. Both men looked up at me expectantly.

“Hey Luke, I’m going to do some running before I head home. Need to start forming good habits again. Don’t worry about me if you guys finish, I’ll just take a cab home if you’re gone.”

Lucas nodded. “No problem. See you tomorrow, Bucky.”

“Goodnight, Coach!” Nate added, his smile wide.

I walked across the room to grab my workout bag. “Later, guys!” I hollered, waving over my shoulder as I left the office.

Once I’d changed into some shorts and sports bra, I whistled as I walked to the weight room. It was well past quitting time, with most offices empty and closed up, my remaining players straggling out of the locker room to head home for the night. As I approached the weight room, I grabbed my keys to unlock it, something Rebecca had assured me I was more than welcome to do anytime, but I found the door was already cracked open.

My eyes instinctively narrowed as I looked inside. The universe was truly cruel; a shirtless Roy Kent was on one of the two treadmills, gazing at the television on the wall above him, watching… Lust Conquers All? Jamie had mentioned the show to me, bashfully explaining that he’d been on it a few seasons back. Not what I expected to see the Greyhound’s manager watching as he jogged.

Deciding not to use my voice to alert him to my presence, I let the door close loudly behind me. Roy glanced over his shoulder, grunting when he saw me. Taking that as his way of saying he wasn’t interested in a fight, I continued into the room, heading towards the lone treadmill next to his. I quickly dropped my Whippets water bottle into the cupholder and jumped onto the treadmill, setting it to a light pace.

For a while, the only sounds in the room were our feet on the treadmills and the obnoxious voices of the Lust Conquers All contestants onscreen. Not knowing what came over me, I glanced to my left at Roy. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see that he had kept in shape post-retirement; after all, wasn’t I on the treadmill trying to do the same thing? But wow, the man looked good. My eyes couldn’t resist lingering on the thick hair covering his chest. It reminded me a bit of Sean Connery in the old James Bond movies my parents used watch; those movies had given me a great appreciation for views like the one before me. Some quiet voice in the back of my head considered that, if this man didn’t drive me crazy, I’d probably be into him.

Shaking my head to clear out the ridiculous intrusive thoughts that were quickly becoming steamy, I turned my eyes back to the screen, trying to figure out which contestant was trying to sleep with which. It was weirdly comforting to see that, even across an ocean, reality trash still remained. Over the past weeks, I had clung to anything that reminded me of home; maybe I’d have to start watching Lust Conquers All as a weird way to cope with homesickness. Lucas would surely get a kick out of that. Heck, I could probably get him to join me.

When the show went to commercial break, I felt the hair on my neck prickle, as if I were being watched. Sure enough, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Roy’s gaze on me, trailing slowly down my body as I jogged on the treadmill. A flush covered every inch of my skin where his eyes dawdled, my heart going faster than it normally did when I ran. There was something eerily familiar about the way he shook his head and looked back up at the television, as if a phone commercial was the most interesting thing in the world.

We ran in silence until the show ended. Once the trailer for the next episode began, Roy turned off his treadmill and climbed down. Our eyes met for a brief moment, the contact taking place of any cheerful “goodnights” most people would have exchanged. After he grabbed his own things, he silently placed the television remote on my treadmill, not quite looking at me.

The only other thing I heard was the sound of the door clicking closed behind him as he left.

“Hi Roy!”

Roy paused and turned around, hand poised to open the driver’s side door. “Keeley,” he greeted, letting his hand drop to his side.

The blonde practically skipped over to him looking particularly happy. “How’s it going?”

“Fine.” He frowned. He liked Keeley; they were friends, he’d venture to say good friends, bordering on best friends. But something glinted in her eye that made Roy uneasy. “You?”

“Great, great.” She paused a moment, swaying from side to side. “I have something really fun that I’ve been working on,” Keeley hummed.

Roy felt his antenna go up in suspicion. “Uh huh.”

Keeley’s expression was that of someone who was up to something. “And I could really use your help with it, Roy.”

There it was.

“Keeley,” he growled, raising his eyebrows at her. “Can you just tell me what you need?”

She offered Roy her best don’t-you-love-me smile, as if trying to remind him that they were friends. “A photoshoot. Featuring our fabulous Richmond coaches!”

Roy threw his head back. Keeley knew better. Roy hated this kind of shit. There was no way she’d ever ask if he wanted to- oh.

“I don’t have a fucking choice, do I?” he groaned.

Wrinkling her nose, Keeley shook her head. “D’you really think I’d ask you if you didn’t have to do it?” She shrugged. “Sorry, Roy. Rebecca’s orders. So come in tomorrow looking camera-ready, alright?”

Roy took “camera-ready” pretty loosely. He came in the next morning looking like himself, just a bit dressier: black button-down shirt, black slacks, beard, scowl. Keeley didn’t look too surprised when she saw him, just smiled and dragged him to the makeup artist. As he sat in the chair, begrudgingly letting the girl put exactly one layer of mascara on him, he coughed to get Keeley’s attention.

“Where’s Nate? Beard? Or are they pretty enough without makeup?”

“What?” Keeley looked up from her phone and shook her head. “Oh, no, they’re not doing this.” She bit her lip, the fear in her eyes telling Roy she did not want to say the next words that came out of her mouth. “It’s, er, just the managers.” Her voice became itty bitty. “So, you know, just you and Coach Bucky.”

Roy threw his head back so quickly he almost got poked in the eye with the mascara. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” he hissed. “So not only am I missing training, not only do I have to do a fucking photoshoot, but I have to do it with her?”

As if summoned like the demon she was, the American bounded into the office Keeley had commandeered as a staging room. Roy’s breath caught in his throat; he’d been working his ass off to get so many images out of his head: the little black dress she’d been wearing at the club, the red smirk she sported in her first press conference, the shorts she wore on the treadmill. But this had to be the fucking worst.

Not only was she wearing that red lipstick that he realized was probably her signature look at this point, but her hair was down- something he’d yet to see- and wavy and framing her face in that way Roy thought only models could accomplish. She was wearing full makeup, a natural look that accentuated her attractive features. Worse, she was wearing a fucking dress, one that hugged her curves and showed off her athletic figure. Roy hated the way his heart was pounding at the sight of her.

“Fuck you look sexy as hell!” Keeley squealed, giving the coach a once-over. “Doesn’t she look great, Roy?”

Before Roy could figure out an evasive response, laughter hit his ears.

“Oh, trust me. Coach Kent probably thinks I look like some young thing trying to trick him into dancing with me. Isn’t that right, Coach?”

Giggling, Keeley shoved the far-too-pretty manager. “Oh, leave him alone. Today’s rough enough for Roy. He doesn’t love this kind of thing.”

“Is it because vampires don’t show up on camera?”

“Oi!” Roy stood up, teeth bared. “Just because you love being the center of attention and having cameras on you and getting prickish journalists to giggle at your stupid jokes doesn’t mean everyone does. Not all of us have your fucking ego that needs to be fed constantly.”

Keeley cleared her throat. “Alright you two, why don’t we take this energy out to the pitch, hmm? Time to take some pretty pictures.”

The two managers grumbled in agreement and followed Keeley out of the room, avoiding looking at each other until they were outside. In the back of his head, Roy wondered if this was Buck’s first time on the main pitch; of course, he didn’t ask. That would require actually giving a shit.

Instead, he did his best to listen as Keeley introduced to two managers to the photographer, explaining that she and Rebecca thought these promo photos would be a great way to garner more interest in the Whippets and show the Greyhounds’ support for the women’s team, and that, if these came out well, they’d do photos of both teams as well.

“Right.” The photographer, an older man Roy had met against his will a handful of times, snapped his gum and studied the managers. “Let’s do this.”

Under Keeley’s anxious supervision, the photographer directed the two gaffers onto the grass, posing them as if they were dolls and clicking away before shifting poses, a pattern Roy knew well and hated. Roy’s stomach was in knots when the photographer instructed him to look down at the pretty, pretty coach.

“Like you admire her,” he suggested.

The American snorted. “Good luck with that one,” she mumbled.

Roy sucked in a breath through his teeth. This was already a long fucking day. This wasn’t the kind of shit he’d signed up for when he came back to Richmond after his retirement. But he reminded himself that this was for Keeley and Rebecca; he’d have to do his fucking best.

So, for once, he did as he was told. Roy knew the photographer meant admiration in a professional way, as a fellow coach. But instead, Roy let himself look at her the way he’d been avoiding since her first day at Nelson Road. He took in the sight of her unabashedly, resentfully admitting to himself that the view from up close was fucking nice when he wasn’t being screamed at.

When her eyes met his, Roy felt his brain fizz out and shut down. She was too close, too pretty, too annoying, too perfect.

“Great,” the photographer called, his camera clicking away. “Think you could get a smidge closer?”

Hating the stupid knots in his stupid stomach, Roy took a step away. “Really? Want me to hold her like we’re going to a fucking dance?” he barked.

“Roy,” Keeley warned gently, eyebrows raised.

“Just take the fucking photos, Kent,” came a grumbling voice from next to him.

Roy scoffed. “Yeah, you’d love that wouldn’t you?”

A sigh escaped those red lips. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He dug himself deeper, desperate to just be done with this shit already. “Just that you must be really fucking excited to have your pretty picture taken, yeah?”

Her eyes narrowed. “That is the second time you’ve said shit like that to me today. Tell me what the fuck you mean by that.”

Their voices were rising as Keeley watched in utter frustration. She’d told Rebecca that this wasn’t the best idea. But the Amazon of a woman had insisted that the two would be able to put their issues aside for something as simple as a fucking photoshoot.

“Oi!” Keeley shook her head at the two red-faced managers. “Go to Rebecca’s office. I’m done with you two and whatever weird sexual thing you’ve got happening here.” She turned to the photographer. “I’m so sorry. Let me to grab a couple players, we can get some shots for the website or something.” She looked at the frozen coaches. “Fucking go!”

I’d been sent to the principal’s office plenty of times as a kid. Mostly for fighting with the boys when they refused to let me play with them, or when told me I played “like a girl” (as if it were an insult), or the time a particularly stupid classmate threw mud all over my Mia Hamm jersey and I decided to give him a bloody nose. Getting in trouble for fighting with idiots was nothing new to me.

But Rebecca Welton wasn’t going to give me a detention and call my parents.

“I am not losing this job because of you,” I informed Roy as we trudged through the hallways. “I was just trying to get things over with. But oh no, you with your fucking comments about me and pictures.” I shook my head. “It’s part of the job, Kent. You might not know this, what with playing for fucking Chelsea, but publicity matters for a new club. Especially a women’s club.”I stopped and faced Roy, who mirrored my pause. “So yeah, I had more to gain from that shoot than you did. But don’t you dare fucking judge me for that. You will never understand-”

“Oi!” Rebecca’s presence filled the hallway. “Lovebirds. In my office, now.”

Hoping Roy felt as childish as I did, I looked down as I walked into Rebecca’s office. She towered over her desk and pointed silently to the chairs, ordering us to sit down without a word. We did as we were told, both of us looking defeated with our shoulders slumped and heads down.

Roy tried first. “Rebecca, I-”

“Nope.” Rebecca crossed her arms, staring firmly at the two of us.

My turn. “We are so sor-”

Rebecca shook her head. “Don’t want to hear that either.” She rubbed her temples gingerly. “I don’t want to hear sorry, or it’s not my fault, or we’ll be better, or any of it.” She sighed. “I knew it would be an adjustment, starting a new team and having to share the Dog Track, but what the actual fuck, you two?” She threw her arms in the air. “What? Do we need to throw you in a boxing ring? Or get you a fucking hotel room?” She pointed at me. “You are a fucking Olympic champion. You think Mia fucking Hamm acts like this? You think this is what I hired you for? To set this example to the team and all the little girls who’ll be watching you?” She turned on Roy. “And you? Jesus Christ, Roy. I am trusting you with the most important thing in my life, with my family.” Her voice cracked. “Do not make me lose another manager,” she whispered.

Roy and I exchanged shamed glances, neither of us sure what to say.

Rebecca went on. “You are both incredible coaches. I see you on that pitch. When you’re not biting each other’s heads off, you’re doing great things with your teams. Your assistant coaches adore you when they’re not having to manage whatever-” She gestured between us in exasperation. “-this is. And I really think both of our teams can have a successful season, if we can get the two of you focused.”

We both nodded earnestly; fuck, I’d marry Roy Kent if it meant making Rebecca happy.

“So, pack your bags, make sure your pets are fed, because next weekend we are all going on a team-building retreat. Whippets and Greyhounds, first annual weekend of figuring out how to fucking get along and act like adults.”

There was panic in Roy Kent’s eyes as he leaned forward. “Rebecca, we are this fucking close to the start of the season, if we’re going to win our first match-”

Rebecca raised a cool eyebrow at him. “Roy Kent, you full well this team’s philosophy about where winning lands on our list of priorities.” Roy sat back, grumbling something about Ronald McDonald. “Your teams will have opportunities to train while we’re there. I do like having a winning team, after all,” she added quickly. Rebecca raised an eyebrow, waiting for us to protest some more. “Any more questions?”

We both shook our heads like obedient children.

“Right. I’ll have Higgins send you the details and you can let your teams know.” She put on a mocking smile. “It’ll be a grand old time. You, me, the teams, the woods, and conflict-resolution training.”

“I don’t think the Greyhounds and Whippets need much of that,” I found myself saying. “They get along great.”

Rebecca’s tight grin remained. “Oh, I know. I’m hoping the two of you can learn something from them.” She gestured towards the door. “Off with you then.”

Dismissed, Roy and I stood and made our way out the door, away from Rebecca’s scrutinizing gaze. Once we were far enough away that Rebecca wouldn’t hear us, we looked at each other, all anger gone for once.

“Going to be a miserable fucking weekend,” Roy mumbled.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Taglist: @callmecasey81 @ladygrey03 @puckyou-forpuckssake @royalestrellas @optimisticsandwichgladiator @reading-blogs @shineforever19 @rae4725 @burnafter-reading @her-fandom-sanctum @infinetlyforgotten @giggling-sewer-ginger @whataloadofmalarkey @agentstarkid @kingleahhh @tortilla-maria1 @geekgirl1996 @amatswimming @meg-ro @spicyraccoonlordking @spaghetti-dad187 @needlesthreadandbuttons @elissaaa @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @reverieisaway @djskakakaksjsj-blog @thatonedogwithablog @allthetroubleiveseen @sunderland-6 @netflix-addict @paranormal-is-my-life @jill2629-blog @itsbuzzfeedbitch @pretzelactivist @amieinghigh @kashee-h

#roy kent something there #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent x reader #roy kent fluff #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfiction

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johaerys-writes · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! How does a WIP Wednesday sound? Thank you always and I wish you a happy day😆

Hello!! I didn't have time to answer this yesterday, so I'm answering today :) This is from the next chapter of As Fate Would Have It which is almost done and should be up soon!!

Patroclus on his third trip from their cart, and sweating buckets in the warm spring afternoon under the mountain of pelts he's carrying, when he notices a customer that has drifted close to their stall and is speaking with Achilles. The man is not very tall, but he's broad at the shoulders and looks quite strong. He has an oily beard which he strokes every so often with fingers covered in golden rings and gemstones, and his beady eyes twinkle with delight as he regards Achilles. By the look—and smell— of him, he must be a sailor of some sort, out in the town on errands.

"It's my first time here," Patroclus hears Achilles saying as he draws near. "I've never been to Iolcos before."

"I would remember a face like yours," the man says, the words accompanied by a nauseating leer. "Tell me, sweetheart, did you fall from Olympus? Because you look divine to me."

Achilles' brow furrows in confusion. "My mother is a goddess," he replies earnestly. "But she's not from Olympus."

"You're a clever one, eh? Not just a pretty face." The man chuckles indulgently, leaning ever closer to Achilles over the stall between them. "Listen, I have a boat nearby; I could take you for a ride if you—"

"You need something?" Patroclus asks gruffly, depositing the pelts unceremoniously on the stall.

The man blinks at him in surprise, as if he just materialised out of thin air. "Oh, I was just talking with your, um, associate? I have an interesting proposition for—"

"Either buy something or get lost," Patroclus cuts him off. "We're trying to sell and you're hogging all the space."

"Well, if you say so," the man replies sourly. He clears his throat and peruses the pelts without much interest; it is clear that it was not their wares that drew him there. It isn’t very long before he sets his beady eyes on Achilles once again, and his lips curl in that oily smile. "That is very lovely," he says, picking up a pelt at random. "Is it a fox, or a lynx, perhaps?"

"It’s… a deer," Achilles answers, rather perplexed, for the pelt couldn’t have been more obviously that of a deer’s. “We don’t hunt foxes. Or lynxes, for that matter. Our teacher has shown us way to keep them at bay without—”

"You hunted these yourself? My, so many talents! A man after my own heart," he chuckles, completely ignoring what Achilles was saying, which somehow makes Patroclus’ temper flare even more. The man spreads his disgusting fingers over the pelt as he says, "Doesn't Artemis get mad that you're hunting in those woods, rivalling her in beauty? I should like to see you in action, in fact; I bet you're a sight to behold—"

"Are you done?" Patroclus snaps, incapable of keeping his anger in check any longer. He snatches the pelt out of his oily hands and gives it a quick rub down before throwing it back in the pile.

"Hey! I was going to buy that!"

"It's not for sale."

"But—"

"I said: it's not for sale." Patroclus crosses his arms before his chest and glowers at him. "Now, beat it."

The man lets out an angry huff. "You don't get to talk to me like that. I'm a paying customer and it's a free country. I can stand wherever I want."

"Don’t care where you stand as long as it's not in front of my stall." He straightens to his full height and squares his shoulders, stepping protectively before Achilles when the man's eyes slide to him. A low growl vibrates in his throat before he can stop it. “Do I need to make myself clearer?”

The man swallows thickly and takes a step back. "This isn’t over," he mutters sulkily before he walks away.

#someone's a LITTLE territorial me thinks #just a little though don't tell anyone #patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #the song of achilles #tsoa #hades game #johaerys writes #omegaverse au

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 1 year ago

Text

Clan of Three - Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One: The Spies

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers and a heavy role to bear. Now reunited their journeys across the galaxy are just beginning to complete their final mission.

Word Count: 8K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, some wholesome moments, father-daughter moments, character death, massive angst, PTSD, just really fucking sad and depressing

------

An evil out in the galaxy, the remnants of a destroyed empire forced to hide in the shadows slowly rebuilding until they can make their return. A man in imperial armor flanked by several soldiers wearing white armor and red sensors. He enters a laboratory full of tanks holding deformed and growing lifeforms, entering a conference chamber that was already going on via holograms.

“The New Republic is vulnerable, but we must be cautious and show no sign of our true strength.” One of the imperial officers states.

“Easy for you to say, Captain. There’s a fortune to be had plundering the hyperspace lanes,” A bald male commander disagrees as the man in the room actually watches the disagreement.

“Commander, your hit-and-run operations are gaining too much notice,” Captain Gilad Pellaeon reminds the commander, “If we are perceived as anything other than a group of unorganized remnant warlords, the New Republic will increase their efforts to hunt us down.”

“There are citizens loyal to the Empire on every planet in this galaxy,” A female officer speaks up, “They’re already getting sick of this New Republic and its rules and regulations.”

Another bearded officer nods agreeing to the woman’s statement “And if we give them a show of strength, they will rally behind us.” The woman nods but Pelleaon shakes his head

“But that strength must not be wasted. Grand Admiral Thrawn’s return will herald in the re-emergence of our military, and provide Commandant Hux enough time to deliver on Project Necromancer.” Pelleaon mentions the formidable Admiral. Hux smiles and the imperial warlord steps forward and Hux motions to speak.

“Captain Pellaeon, you always speak with much authority, and yet, I see,” He scoffs looking around, “Once again, that Grand Admiral Thrawn is missing from your delegation. Any word on when he will be able to participate in the Shadow Council?”

Pelleaon scoffs before replying, “With respect, our one hope for success relies upon the secrecy of his return.”

“Captain, secrets are my stock-in-trade,” The warlord reminds him, “I hear whispers from one end of the galaxy to another, and never a word of Thrawn. You have spoken of his imminent return…perhaps, it’s time we look to new leadership.”

“Hear, hear.” The female imperial officer agrees and Hux nods, “Project Necromancer is in place for that.” He asks the warlord.

“Yes, Commandant.” “What has become of Doctor Pershing and the research you promised us?” Hux asks and the warlord is silent, “Doctor Pershing was captured by the New Republic. His research is lost. For now, at least.” He says and Hux nods,

“I also hear whispers, Gideon. You held Pershing and were attempting your own experiments on Nevarro.” He questions the warlord, Moff Gideon.

“The creation of clones is your obsession, not mine. I account for what goes on in my sector, no more, no less,” Gideon looks around at the council, “The same can be said of every member of this Council.”

“Yes.” “Of course.” “That’s right.” “Yes.”

“And yet, we individually scrape and claw resources awaiting the grand plan to take shape, while you and Pellaeon amass countless resources and equipment which should be shared,” Gideon observes each warlord and Hux nods holding a datapad, “Oh, we already received your request. Three Praetorian Guards,” He scoffs, “Sounds like someone is concerned about an assassination attempt.” Gideon is silently his hand scratching his chin feeling the scars that litter his face. It was more of a second chance of an assassination attempt.

“And he thinks I’m being the flashy one,” Pelleaon remarks, “But following your first attempt it’s remarkable you’re still standing today.” The news had spread quickly through the empire of Gideon’s capture before he was soon rescued. The warlord with control over Nevarro and eyes all over the Outer Rim. But he had a key asset to taking control of a vital planet that could bring the return of the empire and it was thwarted by a man in beskar armor but the scars that would stain his skin forever caused by a young girl with abilities assumed to be extinct.

You stand over him the Darksaber in hand ready to deliver the killing blow. The rage and wrath you were going to enact your revenge.

“And reinforcements for your TIE interceptor squadron,” Hux asks and Gideon lowers his hand from the scars marring his face pushing away those memories, “And… bombers.”

“Yes, I see. And what is your security concern?” Hux asks and Gideon moves towards the middle of the room, “Mandalorians.” The council is confused by this information.

“What? They continue to be an issue?” An officer asks and Gideon nods, “They do. I am increasingly confident that they are preparing to retake their home world of Mandalore. They have a Jedi among their ranks as well that is Mandalorian too.” The council knew of this Jedi girl that had been involved with Moff Gideon but the news she is Mandalorian as well the pieces connected. The name whispered in alleys, through bounty hunters, even the New Republic was looking for her, is seen as the person who took down the Warlord Moff Gideon. Of Mandalorian and Jedi blood. The granddaughter of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and Duchess Satine Kryze and current wielder of the Darksaber.

“A resurgent Mandalore would hamper our efforts.” Pelleaon remarks and the warlords a nervous about this news.

“Which is why we need to stamp them out now.” The others agree as he meets Pelleaon’s gaze, “You’ll have your reinforcements and your guard.”

“We shall be rid of the Mandalorians once and for all,” Gideon turns around looking at his fellow warlords, “Long Live the Empire!”

“Long Live the Empire!”

All repeat as Gideon leaves the council with only one thought in mind. While the Mandalorians were a threat to him only one stood out to him, a man who was willing to tear the galaxy apart for two individuals and his daughter that wouldn’t let someone stop her from finishing off the warlord. Din Djarin and Y/n Kenobi-Kryze were a threat to him but to finish this once and for all both parties need to be separated. The young princess would have wished she accepted his offer so long ago…

The planet Nevarro is serene and peaceful when the loud rumble and citizens look at the sky in shock, High Magistrate Greef Karga works in his office when he notices the tremor seeing a shadow overcast his city. “High Magistrate! High Magistrate!” The protocol droid enters the office, “An Imperial shuttle is advancing over the city.”

The Magistrate moves to the balcony viewing the large fleet over Nevarro City, “First, that’s a light cruiser. And second, it’s not Imperial.” “With apologies, sir. According to my data, it is.” The droid says from its information, and it wasn’t wrong technically.

“No, no. It was an Imperial ship. Look at the markings,” On the bottom of the light cruiser is the large design of the mythosaur, “See, those, my friend, are Mandalorian privateers. I’ll bet you, half that fleet was captured from the Empire.”

“So, they’re on our side then?” The droid asks and Greef nods, “I should hope so. They’re our welcomed guests. Come.” From the Mandalorian covert, the Armorer emerges from her tent other members of the Tribe gaze at the approaching Mandalorian fleet in wonder. On the Gauntlet the four of you fly before the fleet approaching the covert,

“I hope these two groups get along. They’ve never met, and what little they know of each other, they hate.” Bo-Katan says warily, with the new fleet and the new owner of the Darksaber a lot of pressure was on her.

“They will if they wanna survive.” You say trying to soothe her worries as the Gauntlet and the rest of the fleet land. Exiting the ship Bo-Katan led followed by her followers as they move forward as the Mandalorians of the Child of the Watch stand on opposite sides.

“Take the children inside.” Paz Vizsla orders his son and the boy is leading the children away from the situation between adults. You spot amongst the tribe the copper and white armor relieved to see him again. Bo-Katan and her followers remove their helmets as silence fills the area the tension between two groups of different beliefs. You were certainly a fight was to break out when a clanging fills the air you sigh of relief as the Armorer lowers her hammer and tongs.

“Welcome, fellow Mandalorians,” She greets the newcomers, “We invite you to make camp. Let us prepare a feast for our guests.”

It was uncomfortable and tense leading to the feast of the animosity between two tribes as you were pulled away, meeting the new IG-11 when Din and Grogu returned inside the droid while you were with Bo-Katan and the Armorer. You caught glances of the Mandalorian you wished to see but you were too far apart and when he left to join the hunting party for the feast you didn’t see him until night. A large bonfire was used to cook the animal but also to light the area, the two fractions divided a very awkward meal with only half eating the other not allowed to eat before others. They talk amongst their own clans before Bo-Katan rises to stand knowing she has to say something,

“Mandalorians. It is time to retake our home world. Even though the planet is not cursed, there are still dangers. Dormant species have been awakened from the bombings. The remaining magnetic interference has made it impossible to scan the surface from above the atmosphere.” She explains as they all listen in, “Which is why I’m proposing that we leave Nevarro and move the fleet into orbit above Mandalore. We send down a small recon party. We’ll scout the surface, find out what remains of the Great Forge, and establish a safe perimeter. Only then, will we bring down the others. I need volunteers from both tribes.” She says and silence fills the encampment of those averting their eyes from their technical leader’s gaze. You look around before making eye contact with Bo-Katan who tries hiding her nerves but you can feel them.

“I will go,” Din speaks up and Bo-Katan nods gratefully, “Y/n and Grogu as well.” He says and Grogu coos while you nod. It’s quiet once again before you see Koska Reeves grab her helmet holding it to her side as she stands.

“I will go.” She says and Bo-Katan nods now having two from each tribe, “I will go.” Woves says with a nod rising to stand.

“I will go.” Paz Vizsla states standing up as well his gaze meeting Woves as they watch each other. “I will go.” You hear Kaz’s voice and you spot him standing his gaze meets yours and he gives a small nod and you return one back. Soon others are standing volunteering themselves before the Armorer speaks up, “I will go as well.” The scouting party created the rest of the night a bit tense but lighten up.

You don’t even wait for Bo-Katan to return to your small group, you’re already up moving away from the adults towards the person you’ve been dying to see since returning to Nevarro. Din sighs watching you disappear amongst the Mandalorians seeing where that boy Kaz once was is now gone from his spot too. Bo-Katan pats his shoulder as she takes your seat, “She’s going to be alright, besides it’s good for her to be a normal teen for once well I guess adult.” It didn’t seem real that you were an adult, just yesterday Din met the girl on Arvala-7 and Bo-Katan didn’t know it was her grand-niece while helping hijack an imperial cruiser.

“I know..” Din sighs breaking apart pieces of meat for Grogu to eat who accepts it with open hands, he spots you and your Mandalorian off to the side beside the tents your hands holding the sides of Kaz’s helmet. You speak to him with a large smile across your face as he presses his helmet against your forehead. “I don’t want her to have her heartbroken…I wouldn’t know what to do. I barely got her back from Gideon.”

“Kid…hey cyar’ika..will you please look at me?”

He calls out to you, he feels like he lost two of his children, one with the Jedi that had long left and the girl in front of him but seemed to be millions of lightyears away. Moff Gideon was removed from the light cruiser going off with Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, and Cara Dune on the Slave I. Leaving himself, you, Bo-Katan, and Reeves as they went to meet up with the other Mandalorians. The female Mandalorian that was apparently your grand-aunt had allowed you two to stay willing to bring them anywhere in the galaxy before they went off for their plans to reclaim Mandalore though without the Darksaber that was now in your possession.

Your eyes were glazed over but they seemed to be focused on an item gripped in your hand as your breathing suddenly picks up. Din looks realizing the weapon in your grasp, prying from your strong grip and throwing it off in the private room you two were given. Din still hadn’t put on his helmet there was no reason to try to hide at the moment, he had already done the worse thing any Mandalorian of his creed could do. Remove one's helmet in front of a living person and he did it for you and the child.

“It’s gone..okay it’s gone.” He whispers holding your face between his palms forcing you to look at him and you barely even register him tears welling in your eyes. The blood drips to the floor from your fingers as it freely bled, your knuckles were shattered no doubt just drenched in your blood and the Moff’s. Your clothes were bloody parts of them ripped and tattered a large open hole was at your stomach and on your back and he assumes it was from…he didn’t want to think of that. He still wasn’t sure how you were standing before him and he thanked his gods and the Force that comes from you. Blood speckles your face and your messy hair as he tries swiping at the dried blood as a tear slides down your cheek wetting some dried blood before another one and they pour down your face like a waterfall. Din felt helpless seeing your innocence completely stripped away from you. Your lip wobbles as a strained whine like a wounded animal is held in your throat as you try not to break down. Din feels his own eyes burn but forces his own sadness to be pushed down as you choke back a cry. It was repressed as you hold in your cries your shoulders shake and before Din can try comforting you hit the ground a cry of pure terror comes out. Din hits the ground with you as you frantically start rubbing at your arms tearing at your skin blood spewing from your deep scratches.

“get it off…get it off…Get it off!” You scream as you try to rid the blood that marks you and Din has to wrestle with your arms to pull them away from each other and from you to stop causing harm to yourself. “Stop it Y/n! Stop!” Din yells fearfully of you being so terrified of Moff Gideon’s blood on you that you were hurting yourself in your panic. Tears blind your vision as he looks over you forcing your hands into one of his and cups your cheek with the free one. He could only describe pure fear in your voice and your face as Moff Gideon continues to plague you despite the fact he was lightyears away from you. “He tried to…” You break down as he pulls you into his arms holding you in the crook of his neck your arms clutching his cape.

“Oh cyar’ika…I got you…you’re safe..it’s just us.” He reassures you blinking away the tears from his eyes as you sob in the safety of his arms, “Din.” You whimper as he presses a kiss to the top of your head whispering into your hair.

“You’re safe…you’re alright. I’m not leaving…I got you cyar’ika.” It was a promise…a vow to always protect you to make sure this never happens again. To never see another tear be shed, shelter you from the harshness of the world, to keep yours in his embrace safe in his arms. He would put his life on the line, let himself die, and break his creed a thousand times over to make sure you never go through this kind of pain ever.

Din watches you speak to that boy as he holds you in your embrace Bo-Katan sees the nervousness and fear coming off the bounty hunter, “She can’t go through it again. That kind of pain isn’t meant for her…this life isn’t meant for her.” He voices his worries. He would bring you away from here, hide you away from the world even if you would hate him for the rest of your life if it keeps you safe he was willing to. But he couldn’t be selfish…he couldn’t live in a world where you hated him, and they were so close to the end. Returning home to Mandalore, start anew and when that time came he would hang up his blaster and sit back and watch you grow older and be a father, not a bounty hunter. So he watches you be happy in this moment of serenity praying to the highest being to keep that boy safe for the sake of your heart.

The next morning after bidding goodbye to Magistrate Greef Karga, the fleet, and its Mandalorians depart from Nevarro to Mandalore. The Mandalorians sit in the hull for the drop while you, Grogu, Bo-Katan, and the Armorer sit in the cockpit. Both the N-1 and X-Wing left on the light cruiser and R4 sadly stays on the cruiser. He was a bit disappointed but you reassured him, he would be the first person you bring when you return from the scouting party. All the ships exit hyperspace reaching Mandalore as the Gauntlet heads towards the stormy surface, “Scouting party descending to surface. We’ll lose comms shortly.” Bo-Katan says speaking to the people in the back as the ship rattles entering the thunderstorms that surround the planet’s atmosphere. Soon you’re breaking through the storm flying over the destroyed cities of your homeworld.

The doors slide open as Din enters holding onto your seat to stabilize himself, “They’re ready.” Bo-Katan presses on a keypad, “Secure infill zone.” Soon the Mandalorians depart to the planet you remain hovering over before you hear a transmission come through, “Gauntlet, landing zone secure.” Woves announces and the ship lands the five of you disembarking. Grogu controls IG-12 as you touch the glassy surface.

“Somewhere below is where our ancient capital once stood,” Bo-Katan tells the other Mandalorians, “We’ll survey the surface until we find the Forge and create a safety zone. Only then will we begin to bring down the settlers. We start scouting in that direction.” She points in the direction of the sunset.

“Form up.” Your expedition begins walking in pairs through the terrain, you walk beside Kaz in front of Din and the Armorer. A large distance is covered before you sense something. You pause and Kaz and Din look at you confused.

“Kid?” “Something’s heading towards us.” You comment to the Mandalorians sensing a large presence looking out and seeing something on the horizon, “There, on the horizon.” You point out as a large land ship with wheels approaches.

“Nite Owls.” Bo-Katan commands and the Nite Owls quickly get into position the rest of you holding your weapons ready for whoever it was. “Flanking left.” You were more surprised about the fact that people were actually here and if so how did they survive the Purge? The ship comes rumbling to a stop a distance away before a voice shouts out.

“Do you have food?” “We do.” Bo-Katan replies and another man onboard shouts, “You wear the crest of the Nite Owls?”

“I should hope so.” Bo-Katan says, “They’re Mandalorians.” The Armorer says.

“Is that the voice of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze?” Your party is silent as Bo-Katan decides to confirm, “It is.” Suddenly three Mandalorians activate their jetpacks leaving their ship and landing in front of the scouting party. They remove their helmets revealing tired but hopeful faces.

“We knew you would not forsake us, Lady Bo-Katan. We have failed you, but our blasters remain in your service.” They lower their heads slightly bringing a hand to rest over their hearts. Your group found itself on the ship eating dinner only those who took off their helmets at. You sat between Din and Kaz with Bo-Katan at the head of the table.

“They intercepted any ships they saw leaving. They took no prisoners. They bombed every surface twice over. They punished us as a warning to the whole galaxy because we refused to surrender.” The Captain of the landship explains and Bo-Katan grows quiet.

“That’s not true….I did surrender.” She says and the Mandalorians went silent before whispering amongst each other, “After our forces were annihilated in the Night of a Thousand Tears and defeat was imminent, I met with Moff Gideon. The ISB had reached out to me to negotiate a cease-fire. In exchange for submitting to the Empire and disarming, all remaining cities and Mandalorian lives were to be spared. That is how Moff Gideon came to possess the Darksaber. I didn’t trust him, but it was the only chance I had to save our people. And then he betrayed me and we were helpless to resist the Purge of Mandalore.” She explains. The air is tense as the truth of the destruction of this planet is revealed.

The Captain swallows harshly turning to the still helmet Mandalorians, “How did these others survive?” “We were hidden on the moon of Concordia.” The Armorer explains.

“Are you Death Watch?” The Captain questions a bit suspicious of the terrorist group that went into known hiding on Concordia, “Death Watch exists no longer. It shattered into many warring factions.”

“Our people have suffered time and again. From division and squabbling factions,” Bo-Katan says looking over the table, “Mandalore has always been too powerful for any enemy to defeat. It is always our own division that destroys us.”

“And what does a Jedi have involved amongst our kind? The last time Jedi and Mandalorians fought side by side was the Seige of Mandalore during the Clone Wars,” The Captain says remembering fighting there as well, “I thought the Jedi were all killed off?”

“That is true…I make no sense here. To some, I am an enemy..to others a reminder of the past allies you once fought alongside,” You say holding your hands over the table, “I am here to return to my home planet and see the rise of Mandalore and its people. My father once wished for Mandalore to be a planet for all Mandalorians despite which fraction or division they came from to have a homeworld, no matter if you are Mandalorian by blood or Mandalorian by Creed.” Your gaze meets Bo-Katan's and then Din’s.

“Though I no longer wield the Darksaber….I fight alongside my grand-aunt for the chance that we and the Mandalorians scattered across the galaxy may all return home.” The table is silent surprised and shocked by the words coming from you. The diplomacy and leadership exuding from you, Bo-Katan sees her sister in you with your words.

“You’re…her grand-niece.” The Captain says shocked many of the Mandalorians stuck on this planet see the resemblance between you and the redhead. “I am Y/n Kenobi-Kryze.”

You leaned against the railing of a secluded part of the land-ship it was stationed the traveling continuing in the morning. The breeze cooling on your skin as your elbows rest on the wood looking out on the destroyed planet that was the home of your family. “That was a good speech…told you I can see a leader in you.” Kaz’s voice comes from your side as you glance over at him. You hum returning your gaze to the open space of Mandalore, you only wished you could have seen this planet in all its glory.

“Do you ever wish you were here on Mandalore when it was still standing and in all its glory,” You ask and he leans against the railing beside you as he thinks for a second, “I think it would have been nice being on a planet of our people, but I don’t think I would have survived the Purge of Mandalore.” He says honestly and you give him a look.

“That’s morbid.” You say and he chuckles slightly, “No but it also meant we wouldn’t have met. I mean if you were here you would be in the capital as a princess and me just a lowly commoner.” He says teasingly and you shove him producing a laugh from him.

“I am definitely no princess. Maker imagine me in a dress and those uncomfortable shoes!” You ramble and you notice him silent watching you, “What?” He keeps looking at you before shaking his head and looking away, “No you can’t just not tell me!” You grab his arm and he looks down at you.

“Does my princess command me?” You hear the smile on his tone and you roll your eyes, “Yes she does now tell me.” You cross your arms across your chest and he’s quiet before leaning forward and pushing a piece of hair that gets in front of your face.

“I think you would like quite pretty in a dress.” He says and your face flushes and you turn away making him laugh, “What you told me to tell you!” He says between laughter before he spins you around to look at him and he presses his forehead against yours and you close your eyes slightly.

“Naboo.” You say and he leans back looking at you confused, “What?” “I will only wear a dress on Naboo. I was told that it’s the most beautiful planet in the galaxy. And there are lakes and waterfalls and fields of flowers and plants as far as the eyes can see. So if you want me to wear a dress it has to be on Naboo.” You explain and he nods.

“With the uncomfortable shoes?” He asks and you smirk, “We’ll see.” The two of you stare at each other a silence falling over you two its two magnetics coming together. His hand covers your eyes the other pulling off his helmet then his lips meet yours. He drops his hand seeing your eyes closed his hand wraps around your waist and pulls your closer while the other holds the back of your neck. Your hand plays with the back of his hair the other holds his face as you kiss him. It’s gentle but filled with passion as you both pour in your affection for each other. There wasn’t any room left between you two as he slightly bends over and you push yourself on your toes. You both pull away holding your face against his chest trying to catch your breath and you feel the rise and fall of his own chest. A pair of lips press against your hairline and you smile into his chest before you hear the metal hiss as his helmet is put back on. You pull back staring at the copper and white beskar as you feel his gaze on you his thumb strokes your cheek.

“I should go before Din starts his own hunting party.” You say a small chuckle comes from the two of you as he nods. He leans forward his forehead meeting yours, “I’ll see you tomorrow then mesh’la.” You pull away giving one last glance at him before you head back toward the group. You spot on the second level of the ship just before the group is you see the flash of silver beskar under the moonlight. Heading up the stairs spotting the familiar armor of Din and you’re silent as you join his side. He seems to have the same idea of lean against an object and pondering.

“You alright?” You ask and you can feel his brief glance at you before you both stare forward. “That boy…Kaz, is he your partner?” He asks and you're surprised by his question and more of his phrasing.

“Kaz and I aren’t together like that! I mean I don’t think so…we haven’t really talked about it.” You ramble as he looks over at you, “But you do like him.” You’re quiet now that you think about it you two discussed what you two were. Sure he said he liked you and you liked him but did that make you two together? It was all strange new territory that you had no guide to help you.

“I do...It’s just...I’ve never had this before..people like me like that,” You felt embarrassed what if you had it all wrong and this was just a big thing you thought it was. You bury your face in your hands, “Maker I’m so stupid..” Din leans on his arms on the railing looking at you.

“Look, I have no idea what that boy’s intentions are, but…I do know that he would be lucky to have you.” Din says and you lift your head up looking at the older man, “Really?” You ask and he nods and it grows silent once more before you speak up.

“Do you feel like everything is going right that it’s meant to go wrong?” You voice your fear for only him to know, “I mean everything we’ve been through, Grogu and I get rescued by you and the Mandalorians--we get the bounty hunters to come after us, we get to meet Ahsoka and she can’t train us, we go to the seeing stone--the empire gets us, even on Tatooine we got Cobb and the people of Freetown and he almost died. Every time we get close to winning something horrible goes wrong,” Your tone gets slightly frantic all the possibilities making you more nervous.

“What if something happens to the Mandalorians, to Grogu, to Bo-Katan, or you!? I don’t know what to do if you’re gone-” “Hey calm down nothing’s going to happen,” Din grabs your shoulders making you look at him, “I promised you I was never leaving you and I’m not. Ever.” He reassures and you nod before he pulls you into his arms just holding you there. His chin rests on the top of your head nothing is said between the two of you but you could tell he meant every single one of his words.

“I love you, dad…” You say and he freezes slightly before his arms squeeze you tighter to him, “Love you too, kid.” He responds his voice thick with emotion. He was glad to have the beskar helmet on his head covering the tears in his eyes. Hearing the title you called him and the meaning of it to both you and him. Din would always be there for you, to protect you and care for you as a father would.

The following morning the landship returns to the Gauntlet so the Armorer and the weak Mandalorians can return to the fleet to be taken care of while the others lead you to where the Forge is. “Onward, Mandalorians! To the Forge!” The Captain yells to his crew as you set off. Sat on a crate beside Din you see most of the Mandalorians resting or waiting for the arrival of the forge. Two however play a game of chess. Vizsla grabs his enforcer making a flank jump and Woves sighs, “You can’t move an Enforcer like that.”

“It’s a flank jump. And you’re about to submit.” Vizsla says and Woves gives him a look, “But only the Wing Guard can flank jump.”

“The Enforcer moves like a Wing Guard when it’s flanking.” Vizsla retorts and Woves sighs shaking his head and turning to his companions with a laugh, “These primitives make up their own rules for everything.” Insulted by his accusation of cheating Vizsla draws out a vibroblade.

“Seriously?” “Submit or fight.” Vizsla demands to Woves who looks at the Mandalorian, “Can you believe this?” The two suddenly break into a brawl with their blades, punches, and kicks both getting their fair licks in.

“Should I step in?” Din questions and Bo-Katan shakes her head, “Neither side can step in. It was bound to happen sooner or later.” The two continue fighting both ready to strike each other with their blade when Grogu comes between them with IG-12 breaking up the fight as he spams the droid’s vocabulator,

“No. No. No. No. No. No. No.” The two men are silent before retracting and heading off to different sides of the deck, “You taught your apprentice well.” Bo-Katan comments and Din looks over at the child who is looking at the three of you,

“He didn’t learn that from me.”

A sharp whistle fills the air as the Mandalorian in the highest peak shouts down to the Captain, “There, on the starboard bow!” The ground crackles ahead of you all seeing the green glass shatter and some dragon-like monster appears from the ground its tail swinging down on all of you

“Abandon ship!” The Captain shouts and you feel arms wrap around your waist you quickly wrap your arms around their neck as you’re sent up into the air as the tail smashes into the ship it exploding in a ball of flames. Landing a distance away, Mandalorians land haphazardly around you as debris rains down on you and Din covers you with his body. He pulls back looking over you as people around you shout, “This way! This way!” “Hurry up! Faster!”

“You good?” He asks you and you nod you’re brought to slightly underneath the surface but the rocks above you shake falling around you, “We’re not far. We need to go further down.” The Captain yells and you’re all sent underground the rumbling of the creature that attacked you recedes the deeper down you went. The cave leads to a tunnel that opens up to a large open space.

“Where are we?” You ask looking at the enormous machines that lined the deep trench, “This is what’s left of the Great Forge. This was once the heart of our civilization. But the fires have been extinguished since the bombings.” Woves says as you walk alongside the small outlook showing the forge.

“You lived here?” Vizsla asks and Reeves glances at him, “We all did.”

“We never left,” The survivors’ captain adds, “Survived by migrating along the surface until the war ended. Some tried to explore below, but none survived.” The distant sound of jetpacks echoes through the cave and you see a multitude of them heading toward you all.

“Jet packs?” Din says confused, “More survivors?” Woves comments when you notice the design of the armor and a wave of panic rushes over you. That bad feeling of being close to winning and something going horribly wrong starting.

“Those aren’t Mandalorians.” You call out as they immediately take fire, ambushing you all, “They’re Imperials! Take cover.” All the Mandalorians take cover firing at them. Your saber pulls from your belt instantly deflecting blaster fire it hitting the armor in return but making no impact as they continue firing.

“They’re wearing beskar armor!” You shout as a few land before you and you dodge blaster fire spinning your blade around and aiming at spots not covered in the lightsaber-resistant metal. It’s harder combat against them, one grabs your hair pulling you towards the edge and a vibroblade is stabbed in the trooper's neck releasing you. Kaz’s hand pulls you to your side as you go back to back fighting against troopers that try to get the drop on you.

“We’re pinned down. We need backup.” Din shouts while fighting his own pair of troopers. Casualties happen on both sides as many questions run through your head through the battle. Where had they even come from?! You thought you were the only ones on Mandalore unless they were tracking you and followed.

“I can make a run for the fleet and get us reinforcements.” Woves volunteers firing at the troopers that are up in the air raining down on you all. “No, it’s too far.” Bo-Katan disagrees not wanting to lose any more men and women.

“I can make it. It’s our only shot at taking the planet back.” Woves pushes.

“There’s a split in the ceiling there.” Vizsla points at the opening leading to the surface and moves forward with his large machine gun, “I’ll lay down cover.” Blaster bolts are fired at the troopers some getting hit fatally as Woves takes off. One tries attacking him mid-flight when its armor is crushed quite violently and send falling to the ground. Making brief eye contact with you he continues and flees to the surface. You spin around stabbing your saber between the gaps of armor your free hand pushing out Force pushing them into the cavern. The dwindling troopers against the resistance you show make them retreat into another tunnel.

“They’re retreating!” Vizsla shouts as Bo-Katan reloads her blaster before rushing forward, “Advance.”

“For Mandalore!” The Mandalorians shout as you run alongside Kaz firing after the troopers, Din reaches your side as you suddenly leave rocky terrain and enter imperial flooring and walls. That sense of nerves adds weight to your chest the deeper into their base. The troopers fly off on the jetpacks leaving you all in the base. You take in the TIEs and Bombers that wait patiently to be deployed your fear only growing stronger. The Imps didn’t follow after you…they were here on Mandalore all this time, and with how much was here they must have been here since the Purge.

“What is this place?” Bo-Katan says as you look around when a door hisses shut and you spin around seeing all of everyone minus, yourself, Kaz, Din, and one other Mandalorian on the other side of the blast door. You raise your saber to cut through the door when you hear Din shout and an alarm goes off.

“It’s an ambush!” A squadron of Imperial commandos lands on the platform firing at the four of you. Spinning your blade to deflect blaster fire but it was too many as one takes down one of the Mandalorians. Din and Kaz fire their blasters at them when a fibercord whip wraps around Din’s neck yanking him back. “Din!” You shout barely dodging a blaster fire blocking the attack as he fires another cable wrapping around his wrist and he sends a wave of flames. You thrust your hand out crushing the trooper that was choking Din, his limbs snap in a horrid position as he crumbles to the ground. A loud cry fills the air and you feel the life drain from your body. Spinning around and seeing Kaz holding his hands to his side as he crumbles to the ground, you release a yell raising your saber to attack his perpetrator when a blaster rifle slams against your temple. Stars blind you as you hit the ground your saber falling out of your hands and your quickly jumped by three troopers. Their hands grab your arms and pin them behind your back as you thrash violently.

“Let me go! Kriffing let me go! You son of a bitch!” You shout feeling cuffs being placed around your wrist and you try calling your lightsaber but it remains laying on the floor. Your shouts fill the air as you see Kaz on his side his hands pressed to his side blood quickly spilling from his side, “No! stop it. Stop it! Kaz!” You cry out struggling more and your face is slammed into the ground and blood spills from your mouth and nose.

“Don’t you touch her!” Din roars seeing three of them manhandle you to the ground. He fights against his own restraints, the cable tightly around his neck and one on each wrist forcing his arms to cross his chest so he couldn’t use them as three troopers for him bringing him to his knees. Your gaze is focused on Kaz as he bleeds out, alive but losing blood too quickly. Someone lands on the platform seeing a person in Dark Trooper armor, the Mandalorian-style helmet with spikes on the crown similar to the Armorer.

“Disarm them.” A modulated voice calls out and you struggle in your assailants’ grasp as they remove your blaster and vibroblade from your holster. The Dark Trooper motions to the troopers restraining you and you’re pulled from laying on the ground to shoved on your knees as you fight in their grasp. You watch them grab their helmet removing it and the air leaves your body and it’s silent as you stare back at the man. Who tormented you, ruined your life, kidnapped, assaulted, and tried to murder you, the man you tried to kill but failed. He wasn’t meant to be here…this wasn’t real you would open your eyes and be back on Nevarro or at the Great Forge and you never got into a fight with the Empire. He wasn’t real..this wasn’t real. But when he spoke your worst nightmare was confirmed,

“Thank you for gathering the Mandalorians into one place,” He says, and you are unmoving. Moff Gideon was back. He finds delight in seeing the horror and pure terror in your expression as the Mandalorians behind the blast door has no choice but to watch. “You were a talented people, but your time has passed. However, as you can see, Mandalore will live on in me. Thanks to your planet’s rich resources, I have created the next-generation Dark Trooper suit forged from beskar alloy and the most impressive improvement is that it has me in it,” Gideon holds his hands out showing his suit off. If looks could kill Din would have killed Moff Gideon a billion times over, his gaze kept moving from Gideon, to Kaz who continues bleeding out, and you who was paralyzed in fear.

“You see, every society has something to offer. The cloners. The Jedi. And even the Mandalorians. By aggregating the best of each, I will create an army that will bring order to the galaxy.” Gideon felt power knowing his plan had worked and he had everyone where he wanted them to be. “Why don’t we take your fleet off the board while we still have the element of surprise? Activate the interceptors and bombers.” He orders and Bo-Katan slams her fist against the glass.

“No!” The Klaxon alarm blares as the Interceptors and Bombers are activating, “In but a few moments, the Purge of Mandalore will be complete.” Gideon grins and a harsh cough fills the air he looks down and spots the weak Mandalorian a few feet from you still kicking. You see Gideon’s gaze on Kaz and you go feral fighting harshly against their hands.

“Don’t you kriffing touch him! Leave him out of this!” You shout blood mixing with tears and your words and emotions reveal the one weak card he was willing to fully exploit. “Strip him of his armor.” He orders and the pair of troopers keeping guard moves forward as you scream for mercy they pull up the Mandalorian to his own knees as one holds him the other being pulled off his armor.

“Let him go! Stop it, please! If you want your heirs you can have them! Please let him go…please!” You shout out as Kaz cries out in pain as he’s stripped of his armor leaving his helmet on Gideon strides forward kneeling before you admiring the tears in your eyes and the blood that comes from your injuries. You hear Din yelling from behind you and Bo-Katan as well. Gideon grabs your chin forcing you to look at him and you feel sick staring at the man his touch sending you into shock.

“Unfortunately that offer is now off the table,” He rises back up and you see him walk towards Kaz not before reaching down and grabbing your saber as you scream and cry out realizing what he was going to do. Grabbing the Mandalorian by the chin of his helmet he rips it off him and you’re staring back at the man you had cared for, giving your heart to. His skin was pale but not sickly, his features sharp with a few cuts littering his perfect face. He was beautiful with short straight black hair you had felt in your hands but didn’t know the color of anything and his eyes piercing and blue like the clearest waters. They were filled with pain but also sadness as he looks at you and you see the acceptance in his gaze that sends you into a panic.

“Kaz, get up. Kaz, kriffing get up and fight. Please stop! Please don’t do this…I’ll do anything please don’t. I beg you!” You shout as he takes in your features one last time though tear-filled and bloody you still look beautiful in his eyes, “Kaz, please get up!”

“I love y-” The blade cleaves through his body and a scream of anguish rips through your throat. Kaz keeps staring at you until you see the life fade before you and Gideon as the boy you loved crumples to the ground.

“Nooo!” You were dead this wasn’t real. Screams and cries tear you apart as you hunch over in the troopers’ arms sobs raking through your body as the air is ripped from your body gasping for air. The Mandalorians behind the blast door and the one behind you are silently looking in horror as Gideon kills the love of your life and worse with the saber that was the symbol of your kind. The weapon of a jedi used to slay your lover. Your gaze was focused on Kaz’s lifeless one as he stared at you with those empty eyes already glossed over. “I’ll kriffing kill you...No! No...I’ll kill you.” You shout not a threat a promise with hatred in your voice. As Gideon holds your weapon in his grasp attaching it to his person.

“Take him to the debriefing room and bring the dear princess to the command center.” Gideon orders and Din is forced to his feet struggling in their grasp seeing the lifeless look in your eyes as you scream out into the air. He failed you, to keep you safe, to make sure you’re heart would never be broken. Din had seen you lose everything important to you and he knew you had lost a part of yourself with this final strike.

You’re pulled to your feet but you can’t stand weak and nauseous as they hold up your weight, “None of this would have occurred if you had accepted. He’s dead because of your actions, princess.” Gideon mocks you as you’re sent into a spiral sobs racking your body and hyperventilating from the shock that has taken over. You’re pulled as you cry out whispering to the man you failed. “i’m sorry…i’m sorry…i’m sorry.”

You didn’t see the meaning of waking up in the morning, a reason to smile, to eat, to breathe, to live. You had lost greatly and your heart could only take so much. His love with haunt you like a phantom, his touch burns and scars your skin, his kiss a mere memory, and his death will drown you until you too leave this plane of existence. You didn’t deserve happiness…you would never love again. You had nothing left in you to love. Your happiness, your love, and yourself had died right alongside him held in his arms with dead promises to visit the far-off planets you dreamed of.

A/N: I'm sorry🫣 Also for those wondering the face claim for Kaz is Freddy Carter. I live for Kaz Brekker so just picture that gorgeous man. One more chapter left!!

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #clan of three #clan of three series #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x teen!reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din x reader #din djarin x y/n #mando x reader

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basu-shokikita · 11 months ago

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do you have any headcanons for old men yaoi skwistok?

FUCK YES OH MY GOD. Actual old men yaoi Skwistok the beloved

Based on the fact that Skwisgaar didn't visibly age from the earlyklok days until now, I figure he would age really gracefully. Like, he'd be well on his 50's and seem a decade younger at least. A total silver fox. Luscious silver hair, perfectly maintained 5 o'clock shadow, eye wrinkles...he drives girls crazy still! But he's taken, sorry, ladies.

Toki isn't as lucky, but he's still hanging. His hair has thinned out and his hairline has receeded some, but he wears it in a ponytail now so it's all good. At some point he let the kitty whiskers grow and now he displays a fluffy little beard. His muscles aren't as prominent anymore but they're still pretty noticeable, so he's up there on the dream sugar daddies list.

When it comes to their personalities, they've definitely mellowed out. Skwisgaar had a middle aged crisis when he stopped being the fastest guitar player in the world. It wasn't easy whatsoever, but it made him change his approach on life. He doesn't need to be the very best to love himself. Shocking exactly 0 people, Toki didn't love him any less for it, so Skwisgaar actually lives calmer knowing their relationship wasn't defined by his success.

They've been together for decades now, and they're not as obnoxiously all over each other as they were when younger, but there's a certain 'one whole entity' vibe that people get when they're around them. Like two magnets and a force field that puts space between the rest of the world and them. Oh, yeah, they mostly speak to each other in norwegian/swedish now, only saving for english for when they have to talk to others.

Dethklok is far from being the most popular band in the world these days, which gives them more free time to spend with each other. When they're not working on their side project, they go on trips all over the world. They're particularly biased about landscapes, though. Toki opened a chain of cat shelters in many different countries and he likes to visit them from time to time. Of course, he takes Skwisgaar with him.

There's rumors about them having a secret wedding at some mysterious spot in Scandinavia many years ago but they always avoid the question when it comes up on interviews. Despite having matching rings. Legal registers say they bought a cabin there, also.

#asks #metalocalypse #skwistok #this is all awfully domestic but i'm happy to elaborate more on a specific topic if you'd like!#they're old and still madly in love....

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shift-shaping · 5 months ago

Text

the valley grass is greening

a visitor comes to skyhold

rating: g

pairing: solavellan

warnings: mention of pregnancy, canon-typical racism

previous fics | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Enaste followed her messenger out of the rotunda, Solas close behind her. Surely if this visitor was a threat Leliana would have noticed, or even one of the guards, and they would not have been given entrance to Skyhold. The code –’the valley grass is greening’– was certainly cryptic, but vaguely hopeful if anything.

The castle vestibule was as busy as ever. Visiting dignitaries tittered around, but their voices hushed when they saw her. There were many Orlesians and Fereldans, but more than a few dwarves as well now that they had proper lyrium contacts. Elves were few and far between, as always.

The general lack of elves made the grey-bearded Dalish man standing by the doors stand out even more than he already would. He was dressed in thick furs, obscuring his slight frame, and his long grey hair was twisted and tied high on to his head. His vallaslin had faded with time and was obscured by wrinkles, but the mark of Sylaise was still visible to those who knew what it should look like.

And the instant she saw him, Enaste broke into a dead sprint.

She flung herself into him, nearly barreling him over, and buried her face in the fur at his neck. He let out a loud, hearty laugh that should have belonged to a larger man, and hugged her tightly. He was no longer strong enough to pick her up and swing her around, but his hugs were as bear-like as ever.

"Uncle," she said softly, almost too happy to speak. "It is so good to see you again."

"I've missed you so much, da'len." He held her for a few precious moments more, then pulled back enough to kiss her hairline. "We were so scared." He looked up over her shoulder, and she saw him frown at the many human eyes on them. "Not as scared as you though, I‘d guess."

"Is this someone from your clan, Inquisitor?"

She turned, reluctantly separating herself from her uncle's embrace, and nodded at Varric. "This is Roshan, my uncle."

Varric held out his hand and opened his mouth to introduce himself, but evidently he didn't need to. "Are you Varric Tethras?" Hearing her uncle's accent turn her friend's name into a melody was surreal, like two worlds colliding.

They shook hands, and Varric smiled up at the old elf. "That I am! What gave it away?"

"Enaste told us all about you in her letters. I was so intrigued by these books of yours I went and found one myself."

"Oh?" Varric looked half way between embarrassed and expectant. "Which one?"

"This one!" Roshan slung his pack off his back and pulled out a ragged, worn copy of Hard in Hightown 3: The Re-Punchening.

Varric cringed, and Enaste barked a laugh. "Where did you find that, uncle?"

"Some port city on the way here." He frowned at his copy. "It looked much better when I bought it, but it's been a long journey."

"Well, I take no responsibility for the contents of that... novel," Varric said, and Roshan's thick grey brows furrowed. "Apparently someone thinks I'm important enough to impersonate."

"Oh!" Roshan looked relieved. "So you didn't write this one? That's good! That is good." He nodded slowly, frowning at the book. "It is quite bad."

"It's terrible!" Varric laughed. "I'm not exactly writing works of art, but I can definitely do better than that."

"Well either way, I am honored to meet you, Varric Tethras." Roshan shot Enaste a wry smile. "I understand you're one of the reasons my niece is still alive."

"Ah, sort of. It's been a team effort, I’d say."

"And you must be Solas," Roshan said, turning to him. Solas had been silent so far, standing awkwardly behind Enaste with his hands behind his back. He looked surprised that her uncle knew who he was.

"What gave that away?" Varric asked, and Roshan shrugged.

"Not many elves here. Even fewer old enough to be teaching anyone anything."

"I told my clan that you were teaching me spirit magic, so I can better protect myself," Enaste cut in, and Solas nodded.

“She is a quick study,” Solas said, and smiled politely at them both.

"Well I'm glad for that. And that she is not alone amongst shemlen." They shook hands. "You have the eyes of a mage," Roshan said sagely, and Solas narrowed said eyes in confusion.

"Uncle, what does 'the valley grass is greening' mean?"

Roshan grinned and laughed. "Nothing at all. I just wanted to see if it would scare the shemlen to see a knife-ear being cryptic." He stopped quickly, suddenly cautious, and looked at Solas. "I mean no offense, of course."

"Regarding what?" Solas asked, confused.

"Some fla-" Enaste shot him a sharp look, and he quickly corrected himself. "Some non-Dalish elves take great offense to the term 'knife-ear.' Even from another elf."

"I see." Solas's face was difficult to read. "Well, none taken, in any event." Enaste hoped he meant it.

Roshan turned back to Enaste with a hand on his stomach. "I've traveled far, da'len, and it's been a long journey. Where are the kitchens? You must have some in this monstrosity." Solas frowned at his calling Skyhold a monstrosity, but she didn’t disagree. A gray stone fortress was a far cry from the open plains and dry forests their clan called home.

"What do you want?" Varric replied with a smile. "The cooks here are pretty damn good, and creative, too. As a guest of the Inquisitor herself, you just have to ask."

Roshan hummed. "I suppose they could assist me, if they're open-minded... no, it's best for me to work alone." He nodded then, deciding something.

"You just said you were tired," Enaste laughed, and her uncle shook his head seriously.

"I am never too tired to cook my First a meal."

Her chest warmed. "I'm surprised you all haven't replaced me."

"Enaste." He sounded offended, almost scolding, like the suggestion itself was an insult. "Only a few of us wanted to do that!"

Enaste cringed. "I suppose that's better than all of you."

"Only an elder who did not truly know you would suggest you were unworthy of being our First."

"Why is that?" Solas asked, and Roshan bit his lip.

He looked at Enaste. "We can discuss it later, da'len. Your new friends do not need to hear about the inner politics of our clan."

"Unless they want to," Enaste said, awkwardly, attempting to keep Solas from feeling left out. Maybe it would be boring to him, but she knew he'd been rejected by Dalish elves before, and didn't want him to feel that way again. "Anyway, I'm happy to show you the kitchens and help you prepare something."

"How about this," Varric said. "You two go have yourselves a nice little reunion, take your time to catch up, and we can all meet later for dinner." He smiled at Roshan. "And if you still want to cook, you're welcome to."

"Excellent idea," Roshan replied. "This will let me see what I have to work with in your kitchens."

Varric and Solas stayed behind in the main hall, and Enaste took her uncle to the keep's kitchen. Along the way they attracted more than their fair share of stares and whispers, so much so that by the time they reached the dungeons beneath the keep, Enaste was visibly annoyed.

"Your control is impressive, da'len," her uncle said, and she sighed heavily. "You'd think they’d never seen one of our people before, but they must have seen you."

She leaned against the cold stone wall, and closed her eyes for a moment. He let her have the space to think, and when she spoke again he was watching her patiently. "I think the people here, many of them, have a very... selective, idea of who I am. I’m not a person to them, I'm a symbol. And a symbol --a symbol doesn't have to be Dalish, or an elf, or even a mage."

"Yet you've stayed." It was somewhere between a statement and a question. "We thought you... admittedly, I half-expected to see you in chains."

She snorted. "I only had chains on for the first week or so. They got tired of hand-feeding me."

"Da'len," he said softly, and looked around him before he went on. "You could still leave. The Inquisition can find a Herald who actually likes their Maker."

"No," she replied. She held up her left hand, and the Anchor flashed. "I can't."

He sucked in a sharp breath. "So it is real." He took her hand gently, studying it. "I thought that it might be an exaggeration, that maybe you were just using magic the shems didn't know, but..." He looked into her eyes. His were a darker brown than hers, gleaming warmly in the candlelight. "You can use this to repair the holes in the Veil?"

She nodded. "It's called the Anchor. By Corypheus, anyway."

"Yes, the magister." He sighed and shook his head. Just as gently as he'd taken her hand, he let it go. "Creators, what did we send you into?"

"It is not your fault, hahren, none of you could have known." She hated seeing the regret in his eyes. "And I offered, anyway."

"We... we knew there would be risks."

She smiled softly. "I told you I could handle them."

He returned her smile, and glanced back towards the main castle. "And evidently you were right."

Enaste had decided long ago that she would not cry, no matter the circumstances. But his words, and his voice, and the fact that he was here at all, made her eyes sting and her throat tighten. Seeing her reaction, he pulled her into another tight hug. She rubbed her face on the soft furs of his coat, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Why did you come here, uncle?" She asked quietly.

"I can't just come for a visit?"

She laughed and shook her head against him. "It's a long way just for a visit."

"You are worth every step, da'len." She squeezed her eyes tighter, and they stayed like that for a few more moments. Then he pulled back, and he was smiling. "But I do come with news. I know you have your obligations, and a whole world to save, but... Harea is with child."

Enaste gasped. Harea was her brother's bonded, and one of Enaste's dearest friends. They had been together for a long time, nearly ten years, and had tried every technique they could find to get pregnant for six. That it had finally happened, that she was far enough along to tell the clan, felt like a miracle.

"We understand you--"

"When?"

"In about six weeks."

"I have to be there, I can help." Enaste had delivered many babies, and had even gone to assist other clans when a difficult birth was expected.

Roshan laughed. "I knew you would say that. We all did. It is... heartening to see you are still the same."

"Where is the clan camped?"

"Near Wycome. Should be, anyway. There's a valley nearby with fewer rifts, and it's supposed to be secluded." She cocked her head, and he shrugged. "That was the plan before I left. Assuming they followed it, that's where they'll be now."

"I will go. With the Inquisition's resources, we can reach Wycome in less than two weeks. A week, possibly, depending on the weather."

Roshan nodded, smiling. "Everyone will be so happy to see you. Will your... ah-- handlers here, let you leave?"

She laughed at his word choice. "My 'handlers' can follow me if they like, but they cannot stop me from going."

"Good," he said. "That is good. Well," he looked her up and down, "wait, what have they got you wearing?"

"Let's just make lunch, uncle, I'll explain while we cook." She smiled at him, feeling closer to home than she had in months. And the thought of actually returning in a few weeks made her nearly giddy with excitement. Cassandra and Leliana could bitch all they wanted, but Enaste Lavellan was going home.

<- prev fic | next fic ->

#dragon age #solas #enaste lavellan #solavellan #glimpses #this one is mostly fun/sweet

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little-peril-stories · 7 months ago

Text

The Queen of Lies: The Madwoman

Story Intro | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contains: asylum; outdated/problematic/ableist language; feelings of humiliation, hopelessness, and helplessnes; bullying; uncomfortable nonsexual nudity, lady whump

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 4350 || Approx reading time: 18 mins

The Madwoman

Teaser: Bree nodded, glancing up to inspect her seemingly benevolent jailer. He was a pale man, dark-bearded and bespectacled, with brown eyes wreathed in the red and grey hues of one who never got quite enough sleep. And no wonder. Would it haunt him, the sight of her watching and weeping as Baden departed, free as a bird while she remained an inmate of the asylum?

“Mrs. Hatchett?”

Bree stared at her feet, loath to meet the gaze the man who approached—terrified to see what expression waited in his eyes. She wondered if he could read what was in hers.

His footsteps were slow and soft against the wooden floor as he drew near. “I didn’t properly introduce myself,” he said, seating himself next to her. The bench built into the wall was uncushioned and hard as a rock, but he did not complain. Nor did he sit too closely; he left enough space between them that they could speak comfortably and unobtrusively, but their elbows did not brush.

Perhaps, Bree thought bitterly, he did not want to get close to her. Breanna Hatchett, the madwoman.

“I’m Dr. Armstrong,” he said, clasping his hands in his lap. “I’m an assistant physician here. We met earlier. I work under Dr. Richards.”

Dr. Richards. The all-powerful superintendent with the authority to scribble his name on a piece of paper and lock her up without a chance to plead her sanity, all because Baden had made his case first.

“Hello,” she said flatly, not meeting his eye. The floorboards must have once been a warm golden colour, varnished and glistening. Now they were dull and greyish, worn from years of being trod upon. She could bring herself to add no more to her greeting.

“It’s very nice to meet you.”

She swallowed. His voice was so cordial, as if he meant every word. But he couldn’t. He’d signed the page. He’d signed his name: A.A. Dale. He was just as guilty as Baden. And Gysborne. And Richards. She despised him.

A tear burned her cheek, rolling until it slipped down the slope of her jaw and dampened the collar of her dress. “Armstrong,” she repeated dully. “The paper said Dale.”

“Oh. Yes. It does.” He sounded surprised that she had noticed the discrepancy. “Armstrong Dale is my full surname, but I prefer to be addressed as Armstrong.”

“What’s the first A for?”

Why was she asking? She didn’t truly want to speak to him. But striking up such conversation, even for a few scant moments, kept at bay the awful truth: that Baden had gone from Greyhurst Asylum and left her behind, imprisoning her in a way that said to the world he still cared for her and ensured her safety, when in truth her incarceration protected only his own immaculate reputation.

She could ignore Dr. Armstrong, certainly. But if she did not indulge the doctor in his discourse, she would be forced to admit to herself the awful reality—that there was some dreadful catharsis in stripping away the artifice behind which she’d hidden for much of her life. That it was almost a relief to bare the truth: just like Will and now his brother, she was a prisoner.

She always had been, and if Baden had any say in the matter, she would remain so until she was dead.

“You have a keen memory,” he said. “My given name is Allan.”

Bree nodded, glancing up to inspect her seemingly benevolent jailer. He was a pale man, dark-bearded and bespectacled, with brown eyes wreathed in the red and grey hues of one who never got quite enough sleep. And no wonder. Would it haunt him, the sight of her watching and weeping as Baden departed, free as a bird while she remained an inmate of the asylum?

She doubted it.

Allan Armstrong Dale was studying her, too, she saw, with a calm and dispassionate gaze. The pity she thought she had seen earlier was wiped away, and he scrutinized her now with only quiet, clinical curiosity.

“I expect you have some questions,” he said.

Swallowing a fresh onfall of tears, Bree looked back at the floor. “How long am I to be kept here?” What a selfish question it seemed, when Will’s brother would be interrogated and maybe even tortured the way Will had been, and Will would be hunted for crimes he had not committed.

Accusations which her self-serving lies had only corroborated.

“That depends,” he said. “Enough time to allow you rest and recuperation until you are cured.”

“But how long will that be?” she asked, clutching the fabric of her skirt, still damp from the rain. Although the outer layer had dried, her petticoat remained claggy and sticky against her skin, a disgusting sensation she would simply have to endure. Until Baden saw fit to return with more of her clothes, she had nothing else to wear.

“Many patients are discharged within several months,” said Dr. Armstrong.

Pain burst into her bottom lip as she bit down on it. Months. Months. How much time did Will have before Baden caught up to him?

Drawing in a long breath, Bree raised her gaze again. “Dr. Armstrong,” she said, “I am not mad. My husband is mistaken.”

Sorrow flooded into his eyes.

“In fact,” she said, her voice trembling, “if you—if you will grant me another examination, another assessment, I…” She blinked back tears. Calm. She had to stay calm. “I’ll prove to you I’m sane.”

“Mrs. Hatchett…”

Bree couldn’t help it; she flinched. And her visible reaction to the sound of her name was not overlooked by the doctor.

“Mrs. Hatchett,” he repeated, “allow me to be candid with you. Three physicians have ascertained through medical examination that you are suffering from a nervous disorder.”

“I’m suffering from no such thing.” Bree swallowed. “Mr. Gysborne doesn’t count. He’d do anything Baden told him to. Sign anything, whether or not he believed it to be true.”

Dr. Armstrong frowned at the implication of her words, but he went on, “The evidence Constable Hatchett provided was, in a word, damning.”

“But—”

“And you have not,” he interrupted gently, “offered a single compelling counterargument in defence of your sanity.”

With tears spilling onto her cheeks again, Bree went over in her mind Baden’s rant against her. “There are many things,” she said, “that my husband doesn’t understand.” That he could not understand.

To her surprise, Dr. Armstrong said, “I’m listening.”

And he was, she realized. But when she opened her mouth, the words caught in her throat. What could she say? How would it help her to confess that she had willfully, not under duress, freed Will from prison? Or to return to the story of how her arm had been cut, when it would require explaining that she had been helping to reunite the members of a criminal gang?

“I did forge his signature,” she said, deciding to avoid the subject of Iustitia aecum entirely. “To join the literary society.” How long ago that seemed now. With her damp handkerchief, she brushed away her tears. “But I did it because I knew he would never allow me to attend.”

An odd look came over the doctor’s face.

“And I couldn’t bear the thought,” she said, “of being forbidden to participate. To lose access to my friends, and all those wonderful conversations, and the opportunity to learn and read…” She paused, chewing on her lip. “So I didn’t give him the chance to say no.”

Schooling his features back to impassivity, Dr. Armstrong said, “There are some who would, perhaps, argue that it is within a husband’s rights to disallow his wife’s involvement in a society with whose ideals he does not agree.”

“And I would argue,” Bree shot back, “that it is not his job to police my actions, but to be a police officer. To uphold the law and keep his citizens safe.” She swallowed a sob. “And he can’t even do that.”

For a long while, Dr. Armstrong was silent.

Bree watched the window, letting him stew in the story she had not told. As it always did in the throes of autumn, the sun was setting despite the early hour. In the dying light, the few leaves still clinging to the trees had turned murky, rusted oranges and rich browns little more than muddy shades of grey. Bars, like the ones that had once stood between her and Will, obscured her view of the outside world almost as much as the sinking sun.

Will, who she had set free—and ultimately condemned. Will, who would suffer yet again because of her. Will, who would die. Jamie would get his penalty for being the leader of Iustitia aecum, but Will would be executed. Because of her.

“Is your arm in pain?” Dr. Armstrong asked suddenly.

With a startled gasp, Bree twisted her handkerchief in her hands, cursing her wandering thoughts and inexpedient distraction. The doctor thought she was mad; daydreaming and working herself into a panic while he was trying to have a civil, sane conversation would do her no favours. “No. Not anymore. Thank you.”

“I confess,” he said, “that I don’t understand.”

At the puzzled, probing quality to his voice, Bree swallowed and kept her eyes on the window.

“This cut, in the exact right—or perhaps wrong—circumstances, could have been devastating. Left to bleed or get infected, it could have killed you. It is no small wound. Someone did this to you, yet you stayed and then defended the man who hurt you. Why?”

The man who hurt you.

You stayed.

“I was frightened,” she told him. “I have always been so frightened.”

Dr. Armstrong’s brow furrowed, and she knew she had not said enough.

“Some things...” Her throat ached in the wake of this failure and so many others. “Some things are stronger than reason.”

As he opened his mouth to reply, the clang of a bell rang through the ward, and whatever he had intended to say was lost. “Shall I escort you to the dining room, Mrs. Hatchett?”

The name tore at her, vicious as teeth and claws. “Don’t call me that.”

Dr. Armstrong blinked. “Don’t call you what?”

“‘Mrs. Hatchett.’”

“But…that is your name.”

Of course, he spoke the truth. Of course, that was her name. Didn’t he understand? That in itself was the problem. “I know, but please, I beg of you. Please don’t call me that.”

Slowly, Dr. Armstrong nodded, and Bree recalled what he had said about preferring Armstrong over Dale. “What shall I call you, then?”

Dull warmth spread through her chest, dim as embers but emitting the faintest glow, nonetheless. “My maiden name is Cooper. Or Breanna will do. Just…not…” She gulped, shuddering. “Not that.”

“All right, Mrs. Breanna.” How strange it was to hear her given name follow Mrs. How terribly she missed being Bree. But how much better it was than the alternative. “Let’s proceed to the dining room, and then I’ll continue my visits.”

The dining room was small and crowded. Bree’s heart quivered as the doctor guided her inside and directed her to a table occupied by at least ten other women, some of them her age and some older. A slim measure of relief stole into her at the revelation that they all, to her eyes, looked perfectly civilized, some even kind-eyed and friendly. A few were fashionably attired, with lovely dresses adorning too-thin figures and disguising the wretchedness that lurked in each melancholy countenance.

“Good evening, ladies,” said Dr. Armstrong, eliciting a round of greetings. “This is Mrs. H—” He paused, then gestured and deferred to her. “Why don’t you introduce yourself and have something to eat?”

Bree blinked, and her resolve to detest him crumbled.

As if the lady next to whom she took a seat could read her mind, she said, “That new doctor’s not so bad, now, is he?”

“New?” Bree glanced back at the retreating physician, watching him quietly greet the patients at each table.

“Mmm hmm.” The woman might have been approaching fifty years, with streaks of silver in her hair and wrinkles around her eyes. How tired she looked, Bree thought, and yet there was a tenderness to her face that put Bree at ease. “Only started…oh, last week, perhaps?” She gave Bree a small smile that could not conceal the sorrow in her gaze. “And what’s your name, darling? I’m Mrs. Strickland. Eugenia Strickland.”

“I’m Bree…” It felt wrong, giving Will’s name for her here. “Breanna.”

“Pleasure to meet you, dear.” Mrs. Strickland laid a soft hand over Bree’s. “Did you only arrive today?”

Bree jumped when someone gave a loud shout across the room, and the sound of silverware clattering to the floor split the air.

“Don’t worry.” Mrs. Strickland patted her hand. “You’re all right. That sort of thing’s bound to happen, even in this ward.”

“This ward?” Bree repeated faintly.

Mrs. Strickland nodded, and she did not elaborate, for dinner was being served.

It was unappetizing—boiled fish, the smell of which made Bree’s stomach turn. The poor, unenticing creature was accompanied by a small pile of potatoes, also boiled and dismally devoid of salt, crowned with a most meagre dash of yellow butter.

Bree could only stare at the plate.

“Come now, love,” said Mrs. Strickland quickly, seeing that she did not move and her eyes were filling with tears. “You must eat up, or the nurses will report that you’re refusing meals.” A quick squeeze, and then her hand was gone. “You mustn’t give them more reason to believe you’re unwell.”

Bree looked up from the food, astonished. Was Mrs. Strickland just as sane as she was?

“I don’t think I can,” she whispered, swallowing the sickly taste already brewing in her mouth.

“Well,” said the woman apologetically, “you really must try.”

Bree picked up her fork and forced herself to take a bite.

Dinner was underscored with quiet chatter, though not everyone participated. The other women were kind, mostly—those who weren’t merely remained silent and ignored her. Bree wanted to weep at the sight of so many hollow cheeks and haunted stares.

“Did you see the new girl?”

Bree stiffened at the sound of a voice—not one of the other patients, but a tall, blonde-haired woman in a black dress and white cap who was looking right at her with an unmistakable smirk upon her face. Bree’s stomach plummeted. It was the nurse from earlier.

“Did you hear the story?” the nurse asked smugly. “I did. I was there when they brought her in.” Her bored-looking colleague shushed her half-heartedly, but the woman went on. “You want to know why her police officer husband dumped her here?”

Bree suddenly found she could not make her body move. The effort of lifting her fork to her mouth seemed a monumental undertaking. All that mattered was what that golden-haired nurse said next.

The nurse sneered, “She ran off with some criminal.”

The other woman gasped.

“Didn’t make it far, of course, but, oh, what a scandal.” The nurse’s eyes glittered. “If you look hard enough, you’ll even see for yourself. The indecent little mark that man left on her neck. Well…not so little.” With a widening smile, she brushed her spiny fingers along her throat, a prattling laugh spewing forth. “I saw it. It’s obscene.”

“You’re making things up, you insufferable gossip,” said the woman next to her, but now her gaze was wandering across the room, too.

Bree ducked her head, blood rushing in her ears as her face flooded with heat.

“I most certainly am not,” the blonde nurse giggled. “Could I dream up such a story? A constable’s wife running off with some good-for-nothing jailbird for a nice, dirty f—”

Before she knew what she was doing, Bree slammed her fork back down onto the table, sending a crack and a thud through the room.

Mrs. Strickland jumped at the noise, shock giving way to bewilderment and then fading to understanding as she followed Bree’s gaze. “Oh, you must ignore Miss Dugford,” she said quickly. “She’s a terrible gossip, and mean-spirited to her core, but she’s Dr. Richards’ niece, so she’s not going anywhere.” Blanching, she glanced furtively around the room. “She will try to rile you up. She does it to everyone. You mustn’t rise to her, or she’ll run straight to her uncle. She’s gotten more than one poor girl sent to another ward.” Lowering her voice, leaning closer to Bree’s ear, she said, “This is the nicest ward, Breanna. You don’t want to get on her bad side and end up somewhere else.”

But Bree’s heart was still pounding, blood still screaming, breath still choking. How dare that nurse open her mouth and speak on matters about which she knew absolutely nothing? And how dare she speak so brazenly about what was supposed to be only between her and Will?

A memory struck—Baden tipping her chin up to reveal the bruise to Dr. Armstrong and Dr. Richards, displaying her body like it belonged to him, turning what had been a beautiful moment of shared ecstasy into something shameful, perverted, and humiliating. And now this woman, this Nurse Dugford, was doing the same thing—in front of everyone.

“Maybe if we ask nicely,” Miss Dugford said, cloying sweetness oozing through every word, “she’ll show you, too. If she’s willing to lift her skirts for a filthy thief, surely showing off a little bite on the neck won’t be a problem.”

With Mrs. Strickland’s warning ringing in her ears, Bree said loudly, her eyes on the nurse’s, “Don’t you dare come anywhere near me.”

Dr. Armstrong, speaking with a fatigued-looking girl who could have only been sixteen or seventeen, looked up, immediately on alert. Dr. Richards, who was circling the room in silence with cool indifference on his face, turned to peer at Bree, too. He did not look pleased.

Miss Dugford crossed her arms. Although she met Bree’s gaze, she kept talking to her friend. “And, oh, you should have heard her! How she cried and cried. Insisting all the while that she’s perfectly sane.”

And with her full, pink lips curled and crooked, her eyes still on Bree’s, Nurse Dugford smiled.

***

It was with relief that Bree abandoned her not-even-half-eaten supper and allowed herself to be led from the dining room, but that relief was short-lived, for the nurses took her to a bathing room and bade her and everyone else to prepare to wash up.

“What’s happening?” she squeaked to Mrs. Strickland.

“It’s bath night,” said the woman, seeming to droop as she nodded toward the rusted metal tub. Her fingers moved slowly and wearily, untying the cord at the end of her silver-streaked braid.

“But…” Bree looked around, the few bites of dinner she’d choked down sitting like lead in her stomach. “There’s one tub, and…” She counted quickly. “Twenty of us.”

“Yes.”

The implications made Bree’s skin crawl. “But what of privacy?”

Mrs. Strickland sighed and patted her arm. “What of it?”

Bree watched in horror as the girl at the head of the line removed her clothing, bit by bit, until she was stark naked. In front of everyone.

“Come on, then,” said Miss Dugford to the next girl as the first one stepped into the bathtub and immediately began to shiver, whimpering audibly as a nurse began to scrub violently at her skin and hair with a lump of beige soap. “Hurry it up.”

“They can’t make me do this,” Bree said, backing away. “I won’t bathe in front of everyone.”

But another nurse nudged her back into line. “Yes, you will.”

Hugging her arms to her chest, Bree said, “I will not.”

“You will,” said Miss Dugford, listening from the front, “or we’ll help you along, and you wouldn’t want us to use force, would you, Mrs. Hatchett?” Her head tilted to the side. “And you’re a right mess from the rainstorm, there, dear, so don’t you want a nice, lovely bath to clean up and look less…” She smirked. “Less like you came straight from the barnyard?”

Mrs. Strickland reached for Bree’s hand and squeezed. “Now, Nurse Dugford, I’m sure she’s just nervous. It’s her first night here, after all. There’s no need for such…” She took a deep breath. “Comments.” To Bree, she said, “It’s nothing to be afraid of, Breanna. Quick as a flash, and then you’ll be on your way to bed. Won’t that be wonderful?”

Bree shook her head. How could the others accept this? Stripping naked in front of one another, no privacy to speak of? And the way each girl left the bathtub shaking uncontrollably, it had to be ice cold…and by the time Bree even got to it, the water would be filthy, if it wasn’t already.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Sounds like Mrs. Hatchett needs some help getting undressed,” said Nurse Dugford, a snide smile crossing her face. “I didn’t think that would be a problem for her.”

Bree recoiled when the other nurse extended her hand, fingers reaching for the buttons of her dress, too distressed at the prospect of being forcibly disrobed the care much about Miss Dugford’s lewd insinuation or the titters that went through the group. “No! Don’t touch me.” Tears were already threatening to spill down her cheeks. “I don’t. I don’t need help.”

“Come on, love,” said Mrs. Strickland sadly, and Bree saw she was unbuttoning her dress, too. “You’ll be all right. It’s just once a week. You’ll get used to it.”

No, Bree vowed as she gave in, fingers shaking wildly with each loosened button. She certainly would not.

When she plunged into the frigid, greyish water, Bree bit into her tongue hard enough to send a burst of blood swishing through her mouth. The nurse with the soap and washcloth scrubbed her skin so vigorously, she wondered if that wouldn’t bleed, too—if it wouldn’t send swirls of bright red into the horrendous murk that was supposed to pass as bathwater.

The nurse did not return Bree’s clothes, but instead handed her a slip of coarse grey flannel, stamped and numbered: G.I.A., Ward 7, slip #103. To be used as her nightgown, she said. Bree found her request went entirely ignored when she asked through chattering teeth for a towel to dry her soaked, tangled hair.

“There’s a good girl,” Mrs. Strickland whispered. “I know. It’s horrific. But you made it through. We all must do what we can to just make it through.”

Bree buried her face in her hands. As Mrs. Strickland stroked what were surely meant to be comforting circles onto her back, Nurse Dugford and her colleague giggled.

Half-dizzy with exhaustion, humiliation, and fury, Bree allowed herself to be led to the room where she would sleep by a dark-haired nurse who guided her through the draughty, winding halls. She was sullen and unfriendly, but she wasn’t Miss Dugford, and Bree did not mind that she was silent.

Silent, that is, until they came to a room with starkly painted white walls, a single bed, and no window. As she ushered Bree inside, she said, “All right, Mrs. Hatchett. Give me your shoes, please.”

“What?” Bree gaped at her. “I’m not giving you my shoes.”

“Yes, you are. You can’t keep them overnight. It’s one of our rules.”

“Absolutely not,” Bree said. “You’ve already taken my clothes. I will keep these, thank you very much.”

“You will hand them over,” the nurse said impatiently. “It’s the rules, Mrs. Hatchett.” The woman tapped her foot against the floor. “Now. Chop-chop. Give me your shoes.” She gestured to a small chest outside the door. “They’ll be right here ’til morning. Locked in and kept safe.”

“If they’re just going to be right there,” Bree snapped, “then why should I give them up?”

The nurse pursed her lips, refusing to respond, and the answer came to Bree anyway: to discourage attempts to flee in the night, of course, for what woman with any sense of propriety would run around outdoors in stocking feet and a threadbare slip that barely qualified as a nightgown?

“Now be a good girl and do as I say,” the nurse said when Bree did not continue her complaints. “Or else I shall call the doctor, and we’ll have to give you chloral to calm you down.”

Chloral. Bree did not know what that was, but it certainly didn’t sound like anything that was going to help her.

With a frustrated sob, she tore off her boots, then flung them at the nurse’s feet.

“There’s a good lass,” said the nurse, “although you ought to have more impressive manners for a lady, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” Bree said, wrenching off her stockings.

The nurse sighed. “Good night, Mrs. Hatchett. I’ll be locking you in now. Is there anything else you need before I go?”

Bree shook her head. Mortified tears were already slinking down her cheeks. Furious at her own weakness, she scrubbed them away.

The sound of the key turning in the lock induced an eruption of wracking, heaving sobs. This couldn’t be real, and yet it was. She really had been hidden away, not deposited like a jewel in a safe but imprisoned behind bars and locks and keys.

Bound, too, by fear and guilt.

Will haunted the edges of her thoughts like a phantom. How was it possible she had woken up only this morning, nestled in his arms and with his lips on hers? How could everything have gone so dreadfully wrong in less than a day?

And Jamie—arrested—all because Curt had been searching for her—because he’d recognized her—and Jamie had merely been caught up in her recapture—

All of them must resent her. Jamie, Colette, Geoff—they all had to hate her to her very core. Will, most of all. No doubt, after everything, he wanted nothing to do with her ever again.

Would he have been better off, she wondered, pressing her face into the lumpy pillow to muffle her sobs, if she had never seen fit to enter his life? At least his brother would still be free. At least he wouldn’t be facing execution.

Would they both have been better off, had their paths never crossed?

At least she wouldn’t be here.

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#lps the queen of lies #whump #whump story #whump writing #original writing #original story #original content #lady whump #guy whump #romance #angst #tw asylum #tw ableist language #tw hopelessness #tw helplessness #tw humiliation #tw bullying

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