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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 4 years ago

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okay, I want to hear about your thoughts on Renesmee wanting to eat Edward?? What's up with that. Also would love to hear about your opinion on this child in general. All the people in her life are hardcore projecting on her, what's the alien child's perspective on all this shit. Thanks for all the twilight meta its wild.

Thank you, glad you enjoy my rambling, strange, thoughts.

What’s Up With Renesmee Devouring Her Enemies?

So, this one’s actually a bit of headcanon on my end, not really supported by anything directly. We’re going way into left field with this.

But I do have this. Renesmee is a highly efficient predator, perhaps in a way more so than the vampire (although she is weaker and slower than vampires) and Renesmee is... not human, for whatever that means.

Everything we see of Renesmee’s early biological development, and what we see happening in Nahuel and his sisters, makes a lot of sense from a biological standpoint.

The mother is turned essentially into a hybrid incubator, such that even if she wanted to abort she likely would not be able to or would not survive it. The child grows at a rapid rate in the room and has to eat itself out, at which point it has a starter meal of the human mother. The child then grows absurdly rapidly to the point where, mentally and physically, it can survive on its own. Growth then slows and then stops when sexual maturity is reached, presumably for reproductive purposes.

Vampires cannot do a few things. They are a half-sterile race, only able to reproduce through humans and the previously male half of the human species. They also need external help to kill a fellow vampire. In other words, they have to light a fire.

Until you burn the pieces, the enemy vampire isn’t dead. Now, using fire as a tool is to date something only the human species has figured out. It is not intuitive and an odd coincidence that vampires had this prerequisite knowledge (I have thoughts on what vampirism even is and where it comes from).

I imagine, just as Renesmee presumably has reproductive capabilities that vampires lack, she also a has a toolset that vampires lack: the ability to kill a vampire without the need for fire.

Given that Renesmee’s able to eat human food, this implies she has a digestive that is able to break down nutrients. The reason vampires can’t eat other vampires is they lack this. Edward swallows pizza, he’s vomiting that shit back up three hours later and it’s going to be very solid and very gross. Whatever venom did to his innards, most of his vital human organs aren’t working anymore.

Given that Renesmee’s this mix of venom and who knows what kinds of fluids I believe her stomach is capable of breaking down and digesting vampire flesh. This seems to me the most obvious way to eliminate an enemy vampire when no tools are otherwise available.

Hence, instinctively, if Renesmee wants to murder Edward she will eat him.

(Also, as you can tell, the image is just horrifyingly delightful to me, and so it’s my go to response.)

As for why she would want to eat him, see here and here.

The Family and Renesmee

As you note, everyone in Renesmee’s life projects someone else onto her.

Not so much Carlisle, he just seems very bewildered and overwhelmed by everything at first, and one of the few who openly notes how not human Renesmee is and the implications of this (given the chromosome experiment, I’m sure Carlisle was expecting a squid).

Even in the early stages though we see Edward, Bella, Alice, and Rosalie as primary offenders. (I’d list Esme except Esme is... being Esme about it, so, she’s just floating through Renesmee’s life like her Cullen ghost self and not even at the point where she can project anything onto her. Besides, that’s what Edward’s for.)

Edward sees the best of both himself and Bella in Renesmee, a little intellectual who reads War and Peace at a few weeks old when she has no understanding of the concepts of War, Napoleon, Russia, or Peace. As Edward always does, he so obliviously projects onto her, that I imagine it doesn’t matter what Renesmee says or does around him and she quickly figures that out.

Bella’s left the planet. Renesmee’s this beautiful thing, that looks like Edward, that is her daughter. Bella has no idea what parenting is. She’s floating through life preparing herself to become Esme 2.0. It’s not so much that she projects onto Renesmee but that she... completely fails to connect her to reality. Renesmee is a concept to Bella. Renesmee might figure this out, but given her feelings for her mother, I imagine she’s far more conflicted about it. She probably wishes things could be different between them, and often tries to find ways to make it so, it just never works.

Alice treats Renesmee much as she treated Bella, as her little doll that she can dress in cute clothing. Beyond that, Renesmee is a nuisance who messes with Alice’s gift. Oh, Alice likes her well enough, but I don’t see them having an actual meaningful conversation or connection.

Rosalie’s probably the wort offender in the projection domain. She is absolutely projecting the ideal human child she never had onto Renesmee. When Renesmee inevitibly fails to live up to these perfect standards, which even a human child wouldn’t, I imagine Rosalie will get increasingly upset. Acknowledging Renesmee isn’t what she wanted either would probably break Rosalie, so she’s not going to do that, and instead try to get Renesmee to behave correctly. For however much she cares about Renesmee, I imagine Renesmee sours on her growing up, as she knows she will never be what Rosalie wishes she was. Grateful that Rosalie helped keep her alive, of course, but... she would also probably wonder, as fandom does, just how much Rosalie was hoping Bella would die in birth (for the record, I think this might have been an idle fantasy of Rosalie’s, but I don’t think she’d go this far.)

Then of course, there’s Jake. Woof, Jake. As I linked above, I think Renesmee will slowly become more and more disenchanted with Jake. She’ll either learn about or suspect her own gift, have no interest in having a romantic relationship with him, or learn about his checkered past with her mother. More Jake is...

Imprinting, at a very large distance, sounds nice but imagine what that means. You have this person who is utterly dependent on you, who will do whatever you want and be whatever you wish them to be. In other words, you have this codependent person you can never get rid of who is never authentic. They will never say no to you, will always do what you wish, and if you dare to tell them you want a little time to yourself they will probably combust into flames.

That’s not a good relationship for anyone: imprinter or imprintee.

Jake, in a sense, ceases to be a real person when it comes to Renesmee. Renesmee will figure that out and then... why should she live her life just to make this miserable man who once tried to murder her happy?

What Does This Do to Renesmee?

I imagine Renesmee grows up feeling very isolated.

She doesn’t really belong in the Cullens, for all that they’re the best fit she has. She certainly doesn’t belong with other imprintees in the tribe (and whatever occasional function she goes to with the Quileutes is probably a complete disaster), and she’s not human either.

I imagine her strongest relationships are Charlie Swan (who beyond the surrealness of his life I imagine takes Renesmee at very face value), Carlisle Cullen (who also seems to not project onto Renesmee and takes her at face value), and Bella (who she desperately wants a stronger relationship with but Bella’s not listening).

Well, Charlie at some point will die. He will not choose immortality. I imagine Renesmee never quite understands why he was allowed to choose death or what the purpose of the human species even is. To her, they are caterpillars who never went into the chrysalis. Given to Renesmee the Cullen diet is the norm, to her it would seem obvious that, yes, everyone in the world can turn into a vampire and if they ration animal resources correctly there’s no problem. Or, if not everyone, then certainly her grandfather need not die.

I’m sure Charlie tries to talk to Renesmee about this but given that he’s one of her few strong relationships in this world the talk of “I’m going to die some day, sorry kiddo” doesn’t go well.

So, I’m sure it takes Renesmee a very long time to recover from that blow, if, in fact, she ever really does. I’m sure a part of her will always grieve Charlie.

In time, I think she’ll leave the coven to go on a journey of self discovery. The coven will just be too damn suffocating and she needs to find out who she truly is. Now, if that’s before or after the inevitable collapse of the Volturi and destruction of human society is hard to say.

I will say that whatever the future holds for Renesmee, just like everyone else’s, it is unbearably bleak.

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troquantary · 3 years ago

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Twilight Reread, Part One: Guys, It’s Literally Just Chapter One, I’m Fucked

I’ve officially started, as in it’s been a single chapter and I already have too many thoughts. I’m not going to do this kind of detailed mind dump for every chapter, but the early ones obviously establish a lot of things about Bella, and reevaluating her character is the whole point of this exercise for me. Chapter One in particular is a fucking gold mine, so this is a good place to pause and take stock.

Actually, it turned out to be such a gold mine that I’m splitting this up -- in this post, I wrote about Bella and Charlie’s relationship and discuss the defensive attitude Bella has about him and Forks at the start. I’m going to save my thoughts on Bella’s bizarre, almost pathological pessimism and her disinterest in human connection in a separate one. (All I’ll say now is that, by the end of this chapter, I was deeply confused as to what Bella expected/wanted from her peers, because her behavior and narration were all over the damn place.)

...I need to start giving myself a word limit. Too much mental energy expended below the cut~

1. Bella and Charlie (and Forks)

Okay, first of all, goddamn. I seriously misremembered how hard Bella comes down on Forks and, by extension, Charlie. As someone with, uh, very bitterly divorced parents, I’ve got to say her attitude has Renee’s fingerprints all over it; Renee hated Forks, and she’s clearly instilled the same distaste for the place -- and for her father, who remains there -- in Bella. I’m not necessarily saying that Renee did this maliciously, but it paints a sadly familiar picture of one divorced parent poisoning their child against the other.

Just look at Bella’s description of her parents’ divorce, which is incredibly biased in Renee’s favor. Out-of-universe, Meyer’s provided some context for the split. Taking it at face value, it looks like a shitty situation all around, but Charlie doesn’t appear to have done anything wrong. Bella, however, describes it like this: “It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I’d been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen.”

She says this like Forks is a prison and Charlie was Renee’s jailer or something, rather than a young man struggling to maintain his marriage to his increasingly unhappy wife, provide for her and his daughter, and take care of his dying parents. Now, to be fair, Bella’s directing her vitriol toward the town in this section, not Charlie directly. Reading between the lines, though, it seems fairly clear that the two are linked in Bella’s mind -- she never mentions being glad to visit Charlie, and in fact when she “put her foot down” about the arrangement at age fourteen, the result was cutting that already scant time in half. She’s seen her dad for a total of six weeks over the last three years, and she mentions no desire to know him better or grow closer.

Obviously, Bella does warm up to Charlie later, but her expectations going in are extremely low. And yeah, I’m blaming this on Renee, too. Bella has always felt like a burden on her mother; Renee can’t even offer to be there for Bella if she needs to come home without a sense of “sacrifice.” Bella’s pretty clearly expecting Charlie to see her the same way, and therefore her attitude, while not charitable, seems to be mostly self-protective; she’s bracing herself for rejection. She’s actually surprised that her own father has “really been fairly nice” and “seem[s] genuinely pleased” that she’s coming to live with him permanently. Which...woof.

For his part, Charlie’s behavior in this chapter really indicates that he wants to connect with Bella, and for her to enjoy her time with him. It’s honestly kind of heartbreaking. For all that Bella essentially sees him as a stranger, he’s more familiar with her -- he catches her “automatically” when she trips, hugs her, and calls her “Bells.” I think if Charlie were truly as disconnected from Bella as Bella sees him, this scene would go differently (Bella trips, but Charlie’s surprised by it and doesn’t catch her, and has to help her up out of a puddle. Or he calls her “Izzy” or some nickname she hates.) As it is, although Bella doesn’t see it, we have ample hints that they’re going to click.

That’s not to say they’re in sync immediately, though -- Bella chafes when she thinks Charlie’s talking down to her in the car.

2. Shut Up, You’re Not My Real Dad! (unironically kind of a banger?)

The conversation about the truck quickly becomes a kind of power struggle. Bella’s dynamic with Renee, the reversed parent/child roles, is well established by this point in her life (which, as a side note, made it surprising to me that Bella refers to Renee as “my mom” or “my mother” throughout this first chapter even in her narration -- I expected the first-name treatment for both parents).

Renee’s all too happy to let Bella manage everything and be the adult. Charlie, though, sees Bella as his kid and knows she wants her own car, so he’s found and bought one for her. His intentions are great, and very generous -- but Bella, who’s already planned to buy the car herself, feels patronized and bristles. She’s immediately “suspicious” and starts grilling him about the make and age of the truck, and she’s offended when he tries to sidestep her questions: “I hoped he didn’t think so little of me as to believe I’d give up that easily.”

I don’t think it’s wrong or ungrateful of her to feel and react this way -- this is just a pretty natural point of disconnect between her and Charlie, and it makes a lot of sense for Bella as a character. She’s used to being in control of household and financial matters, and from her perspective, it looks like Charlie’s butting in with no consideration for her knowledge, budget, or requirements. Of course she’s resistant.

She softens, though, when Charlie reveals he’s bought it for her -- surprised out of her defensiveness, she now has to grapple with the unfamiliar feeling of being provided for, and welcomed, when she was expecting to fend for herself as usual. And then it turns out she loves the truck, so this ends up being a big win for Charlie -- although not so big that Bella drops her emotional guard.

Beyond the first chapter, Bella continues to try to establish her “adulthood” by instantly claiming the household as her domain. On her second day in town, she takes stock of Charlie’s fridge and pantry, then helps herself to the petty cash and hits the grocery store. There’s no indication that she’s discussed this with Charlie -- she’s just decided that food is her job now like it was in Phoenix. [Edit: I was wrong about this -- she does talk to Charlie and ask to take over food-related stuff in Chapter 2. My bad, sorry Bella.] She takes over cooking, too, although Charlie hasn’t asked and doesn’t appear to expect her to do that. I’ve seen some posts criticizing Charlie for not cooking himself or whatever, but I’d argue that this is something Bella would insist on doing -- she’d probably also be offended that he doubts her capability, because this is an area where she feels very confident. She’d point out that she’s not some kid with no idea how to run the washing machine, and that she handled all this and more at Renee’s just fine, thank you.

I figure that Charlie, in the same manner that he didn’t stop Renee from leaving, doesn’t stop Bella from any of this because he wants her to be happy. Sure, it’s kind of weird for a teenager to want to do chores, but if it makes Bella feel more comfortable, or more like this is her home...of course he’s not going to interfere. Maybe this is too passive on his part, but they’re still figuring each other out.

I think this continuing point of tension -- Charlie trying to be a parent to Bella, and Bella resisting it because it feels belittling to be shoved back into the “child” box after she’s already shouldered so much responsibility for Renee -- will be very important to understanding some of Bella’s actions later on. Considering the level of dislike I had for Bella before going into this, I’ve got to harp on these points for my own sake, to keep myself honest and less reactive.

---

And that’s it for this installment. I have no planned structure for this, by the way (shocker), so I’ll probably just write about whatever catches my attention with respect to Bella’s character. I’m just trying to look at what’s actually on the page and incorporate out-of-universe information as sparingly as possible. Since the series is written from a first-person perspective and these are supposed to be Bella’s actual thoughts, I’m going to be picking apart her choice of words quite a bit -- just based on the first chapter alone, those choices are often very telling.

#twilight reread: i've made a huge mistake #twilight renaissance #bella swan #charlie swan #renee dwyer #i stared too long and the twilight abyss gazed back #i took an absurd amount of notes in the margins #but at least it kept my petty commentary contained #long post

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sashimi-time · 2 years ago

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Completed BL Manga/Manhwa/Manhua Recommendations (2)

Hey! Now, I made part 2! I couldn't add images in the other post, so here I am!

Do you have any completed BL that you'd like to suggest? Please let me know!

Love Shuttle (90 chapters; Lezhin)

Plot (MAL): There’s a late bloomer, and then there’s a late bloomer. Do-Yun may be half Omega, but he certainly doesn’t look it: he’s tall, chiseled... But the worst of it all is that he’s a full-grown adult male who has yet to go into heat. He doesn’t see the problem, and everyone assumes he’s an Alpha, anyway. But when his body finally decides it’s “time,” it just happens to be at the most inopportune moment. He has no-one to turn to but his work rival, Tae-Han – but thankfully, Tae-Han is more than man enough to help him out.

Note: This is another cute omegaverse story! Take note, it's NSFW. I don't think I've read a non-NSFW omegaverse story, to be honest... Anyway! This one is pretty wholesome. I believe that Tae-Han and Do-Yun's relationship is very healthy. <3 The two of them are hella cute. Give it a try if you haven't!

Also, kindly note that I did not read what Side Story 2 is about. I've seen some snippets, and it made me not wanna read it. Lols.

Blood Link (135 chapters; Lezhin)

Plot (AP): A human, lycan, or a vampire - what am I?! Completely unaware of the existence of these predators, Hwa Gok goes about his everyday life… That is, until Lee Bin turns his life upside down by biting him on the neck, setting off a whirlwind of events neither of them could foresee.

Note: I absolutely loved this one! I think the story is sweet, and the art is amazing! Both Season 1 and Season 2 were such a blast to read! Please note that there are 2 couples, one for S1 and one for S2, and both seasons are very NSFW. ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)✨ Besides, who wouldn't want to read about vampires, lycans, and humans?! I believe you would most definitely enjoy reading about them. Do give it a read if you haven't yet! The endings are *chefs kiss*

Insecret (72 Chapters + 30 Side Story; Lezhin)

Plot (AP): The life of a K-pop star is a hard one, especially if you’re Choi Yuwon. Not only does he have to keep up with the grueling lifestyle of an idol, but he also needs to keep a vigilant eye on the troublemaker of INSECRET, Park Dojin. Dojin acts how he pleases, and Yuwon is the only person in the group who can keep him out of trouble. This arrangement seems to work just fine for the both of them, until one day, Dojin makes a fateful mistake…

Note: Okay, so, to be 100% honest, as much as I loved the story between Dojin and Yuwon, I am mostly recommending this for the second couple (the focus of the side stories). I mean, Dojin and Yuwon's story is cute, and they're adorbs (especially by the ending part!), but some parts of the beginning of their relationship were kinda problematic for me, you know? ANYWAY. I loved reading this one! Other than the interesting story (HALLO, it's a romance between two members of a boy band?!?! With a weird, sort of master/dog thing going on?!), the art is amazing! It's very NSFW though. //・ω・//). ┻┳|

I won't comment much on the side story because I might be spoiling you unintentionally, but please, take my word for it when I say reading their story is very interesting! I love the dynamic between the second couple. The progress in their relationship, in my opinion, is great. It seems very realistic to me, I guess. To be honest, I didn't even expect that they were the second couple lol. But maybe that's just me. HAHA.

Woof Wolf (55 Chapters + 6 Side Story; Lezhin)

Plot (AP): Min-woo and Jae-min have been eyeing one another across the classroom for ages, but so far they’ve only gotten hot and steamy together in their imaginations. Just as the sexual tension reaches a boiling point, Jae-min makes a shocking discovery: Min-woo is a werewolf! And this only excites him more! Will Min-woo be a good pup and make Jae-min howl in bed? The fangs and claws will surely come out this semester!

Note: This one is a really cute read! It's short, and the couple was sweet. The art is great, too! Plus! Green flags are waving for both Min-woo and Jae-min! I loved that there were no super huge misunderstandings between the two of them. I think their relationship was very mature.

And hello! WEREWOLVES! Who doesn't like them, amirite? It's NSFW, so please be warned. Ehe.

Living with Him (10.5 Chapters)

Plot (BM): Natsukawa Ryouta, a boy with a domestic disposition, is striving to make his college debut. At last, his dream of living alone has come true…!! …or so he'd thought, until it turns out he has to room with his childhood friend, Tanaka Kazuhito, a guy with a sparkling aura?! Their mutually self-conscious, mutual pining love between roommates begins!

Notes: This one is a really short, fluffy, cute read! I loved the relationship between Ryouta and Kazuhito. It's pretty straighforward, and there are no misunderstandings between the two of them. I remember loving how sweet and respectfully Kazuhito is. A total green flag top right there! Ryouta is very cute, too! Most definitely read this if you want something light-hearted and chill.

#manhwa recommendation #romance manhwa #love shuttle #bl manhwa #boys love manhwa #yaoi manhwa #blood link #insecret #woof wolf #living with him

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jangofctts · 4 years ago

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Don’t Push Your Luck (Boba Fett x Reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 4.9k wooF

Warnings: smut, language, handjobs, oral (male receiving), fingering, heavy petting, there is SOFT. I REPEAT SOFT FLUFF. but only SOME

Chapter (1), (2)

a/n: hey y’all...welcome...finally this bITCH IS OUT. thanks to @djxrxn WHOMST HAVE BEEN THE MAIN MOTIVATOR BEHIND THIS. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH 💖🥵🤠

(also lmk if you wanna be tagged or just wanna YELL at me)

It’s impossible not to count down the days, the hours, the seconds leading up to your untimely end. A sleep cycle and half to be exact. A perfect amount of time to finish counting each loose wire and rusty screw holding together this heap of junk—a miracle really, that it’s able to jump to hyperspace, let alone fly.

You’re no expert on the inner workings of a spacecraft, but your familiarity with Imperial grade cruisers gift you the impeccable skill of deducing that the hiss of air every couple minutes out of the hydraulic piping is not ideal. Nor is the solar light overhead that flickers and hums, skirting the precarious line of exploding in your face or simply plunging the cargo hold into murky darkness.

At this point you’d take either.

You sigh, resting the back of your head against the wall as the barbed tendrils of an oncoming headache settles behind your eyes.

Between that, the stupid light, and your boredom; it’s enough to make anyone stir crazy. Stars—even the arduous task of talking to Boba Fett is morphing into something akin to craving. Even if his idea of a conversation runs parallel to the art of smug, male pride and snide words meant to pick and prod—it’s better than whatever this is.

Scoffing, you curl your knees up to your chest and rest your chin over your knee. This is pathetic.

You should despise him—feel like kicking his teeth in—or helmet—whatever. He aided in the killing of you friend—probably took care of all the other poor souls who even dared to breathe your way too. Boba Fett is a despicable, no good bounty hunter who finds far too much fun in the misfortune of others.

And yet…

The task of attaching your hate to the man is proving to be more difficult than you would’ve guessed. You don’t regret what you’ve done with him—far from it in fact—but your tolerance, bordering enjoying his company, is concerning. To say in the least.

Nothing good will come out of the conflicted ball of knots that settle in your chest, ensnaring your heartstrings into that endless monstrosity.

Though none of it stops the way your chest constricts, heart skipping a few vital beats at the familiar sound of his spurs resonate through the ship. They chink against the metal pegs of the ladder, boots settling on the ground with a heavy thump. A moment later Boba steps into your line of sight, tattered cloak and chipped armor in all its battered glory.

He isn’t an immanent threat, but your eyes still track each movement. The rational part of you knows he won’t lash out, but you’re still his quarry and even a wolf with a severed head has the power to bite. No part of you wants to brave the sharp points of his teeth.

Not even a fraction of his attention is thrown your way as he does his routine inspections of your fellow captured quarries, frozen in their carbonite prisons. You just hope none of them spontaneously reanimate—you’re not too keen on another shipmate. Your little corner is crowded as is and forget sharing your blanket. It’s tattered and smells like dust and mothballs and you have a sneaking suspicion it’s just one of Boba’s old cloaks he outgrew—but you’re thankful for it anyhow.

You flinch as he punches in a code, the loud grate of metal on metal piercing your ears as the carbonite slabs swing back into their storage space. With an incline of his head, his weighted gaze settles on your person.

“Still nervous?”

You sniff and shake your head. “You just…startled me is all.”

Boba snorts in disbelief and pads closer. He reaches the toes of your boots and squats, one gloved forearm resting over his knee as the other reaches out to capture a lock of your hair. He twirls it between his fingers and gently tugs, quiet as he studies you behind the visor. The action is familiar—doesn’t scare you as much as it once did, but his closeness still overwhelms.

“I see you’ve found some courage, gentle Rabbit,” he surmises, untangling his fingers from your hair to tap beneath your chin. “While we’re at it…any last favors I can provide?”

It’s whiplash—so stupefying it renders your tongue speechless, a heated blush rushing up your cheeks and to the tip of your ears. He snickers and shakes his head, rocking back onto his heels to stand as you sputter for words.

It’s a joke—a garbage one at your expense. Always at the butt-end of things with no room to snap back. Yet, as he turns on his heel to return to the cockpit—it’s the perfect opportunity. Not the sort of favor he’d be expecting, but a favor nonetheless.

“Can I—“ He pauses and casts a glance over his shoulder as you muster enough bravery to follow through. “Do you think I could—could sit in the cockpit? Just for a little while…”

It’s a long-shot—like launching a flimsy javelin at a target no larger than a thumbtack three thousand clicks away. Not happening—more likely to beat a rancor in a fucking wrestling match then sway the bounty hunter’s opinion. Regardless, the question must stun him—the terse silence drags on for an agonizing amount of time, amping up your anxiety tenfold.

“I’m sorry—I just—I wanted to see the stars one last time,” you mumble, curling into yourself with a wince. “It’s stupid—“

“It’s hyperspace—not much to look at.” He curtly interrupts. “An asteroid if you’re lucky.”

Your spirits plummet further—scraping against the dirt like a crashed speeder geared to the highest velocity and headed straight for a brick wall. Maker this was dumb—

“The second you try anything funny—“

You perk up, your spine straightening as he turns swiftly on his heel and marches back. He leans down at the waist, firmly ensnaring your chin between his forefinger and thumb, straining the muscles in your neck. “—you’ll end up in there.”

He jerks his head over his shoulder at the carbonfreezer. Yeah. No thank you. Absolutely zero interest in becoming a human popsicle.

“You won’t even notice I’m there,” you breathe, holding your stare steady. “Promise.”

Boba hums in thought, releases your chin and pats your cheek. He straightens and taps at his vambraces and with a hiss of air the stasis cuffs around your wrists clatter to the floor. You stand and sigh, rubbing at the angry raised lines, just shy from a dark bruise.

The bounty hunter ushers you towards the ladder, his hand anchored to your shoulder. You stop yourself from scoffing. The action is useless—you’ve got no clever scheme up your sleeve or malicious motive but you can never be too cautious you suppose—not with this line of work.

You try not to snoop once you clamber up into the second level—but Maker—it’s interesting. There’s a small bunk on the other end of the short corridor, messy blankets thrown on top and a deconstructed blaster that’s seen better days. Gray and off-white undershirts hang off the metal rigging on the bunk and the sight of his laundry is undoubtedly jarring. It’s silly not to think he doesn’t do laundry but—imagining the most feared bounty hunter in the Galaxy washing his tidy whities is hilarious.

“Come on,” Boba urges, nudging your shoulder with his own.

Your tiny smile never falters as he leads you into the domed cockpit, the neon blue of hyperspace reflecting across his chipped armor with miniature streaks of light. He gestures at the co-pilot’s seat tucked beside the com board, a litany of buttons blinking and flashing as you gingerly sit.

The hinges squeak as the chair spins, your eye catching the mess of beaded and jeweled necklaces that hang on a tiny hook above the board. You recognize a few—Kashyykian ceremonial beads, the glittering coil of pure, refined diamonds from Pantora and the braided strands of bantha leather common on Tatooine. Your fingers drift up and thumb at the carved wooden Wroshyr beads.

Trophies—

“Don’t touch those.”

You jump and yank your hand back. “So...all I can do is...sit?”

“Isn’t that what you asked for?”

You have to agree—there isn’t much to look at. Hyperspace, as fascinating as it is, looses its charm once the vertigo sets in. To be honest—you weren’t expecting to get this far.

Oh well.

A change in scenery is always nice. Different loose wires and screws to count…

And the seat spins. Score.

Boba however, does not share in your bemused sentiments. Your mopey sighing and the constant squeak of loose bearings on your spinny chair is not pleasant to the ear, apparently.

“If you’re that bored, Rabbit,” he sighs, casting a sharp glance over his shoulder. “You could always put those hands to work.”

You pause and swipe a finger through the dust between the toggles on the comm board and absentmindedly respond. “I don’t think I’d be much help. I’m not very technically inclined and oh—“

Your cheeks flush when he tilts his head. “You, uh...didn’t mean that sort of work, did you?”

Boba snorts and crosses his ankle over his knee and rests his helmet on the headrest. The stretched out figure of his body is alluring—fascinating to studying each nick and scratch on his armor without the repercussions of him staring back. His vambraces clink against his cuirass as he laces his fingers together, resting his hands just above his codpiece.

“Do you need something, Rabbit?”

You swallow, your eyes flicking back up to a more respectable place for them to linger. “Um..n-no. I’m fine. Just…”

He rolls his head to the side, the shadows from hyperspace carving out the sharp lines of his helmet into an even deeper dramatic cut. You squirm and focus your eyes on the frayed laces of your boots.

“It’s alright. You can tell me, sweet girl.” His goads, tempting you out onto that slippery slope of desire.

He uncross his legs and uses the tip of his boot to languidly spin himself around, his knees spread wide in a display of mock easiness. Boba’s thumbs drum against his ammo belt, the quiet, rhythmic tap…tap…tap…the only sound filling the charged silence. It’s the Academy all over again; sat down and scrutinized until you crack—spill every secret until they’re satisfied— and Boba Fett is no different…

You scramble for words, wrangling your thoughts into something somewhat comprehensive. “I’m—I—well—“

He cocks his head, light bouncing off the silvery pockmark on his helmet. Boba’s hand idly travels lower, brushes off imaginary dust on his thigh and settles his fingers over the clasps to this codpiece. His thumb flicks it open then closed, all too keen on where your eyes are glued to.

“You want your hands on my cock again? Is that it?” Boba purrs in amusement. You tongue passes over your lip as you wrench your eyes off of him yet again.

“There’s no need to be play coy, girl,” Boba snickers, “Tell me.”

The words jump out of your mouth—no forethought and apparently not an ounce of self control. “Yes—I want...to p-put my hands on you.”

“On me or my cock?”

You mouth goes dry as you mumble out a feeble agreement. “Your…cock.”

Boba huffs in self satisfaction. “Come here then.”

On already shaky legs you stumble out of your seat and plant yourself in front of him. You have no visual confirmation but the hair-raising sensations as his eyes rake down your body sends shivers up your spine.

Your mouth parts, but before you’re even able to ask what he wants—he beats you to it.

“Your choice, Rabbit.”

Not helpful, you think.

Regardless of the lack of direction, you chew on the inside of your cheek and slowly lower yourself onto your knees, sliding easily between his parted legs. The only indication you know he’s aware you’re there is a quick shift of his hips, settling further into the leather cushion.

His leg jumps involuntarily as your fingers skim up his knee. If you weren’t interested in receiving a lovely black eye, you’d have the nerve to accuse him of being ticklish.

Biting the corner of your lip to stave off your coy smile, your hand continues its path up along his inner thigh. There’s a short huff of air that filters through the vocoder as your fingertips reach the codpiece. They brush over the circular dent left by a blaster, curiosity piqued at the strange location.

You want to ask—but—the thought is fleeting, far more interested in finding the tiny clasps on the side that easily pop open, the offending piece of armor going lax in your grip. You toss it to the side with little hesitation, greeted by the firm outline of his cock filling out the front of his trousers.

Boba Fett is not a patient man and your lecherous gawking, enough to notice, irks him. With a grunt he snakes his fingers around your hand and presses it against his cock. He rolls his hips, guiding your hand into applying a firmer touch until you’re palming him without the extra help. You give the hardening flesh a rougher squeeze, a bolt of liquid heat settling in the pit of your stomach as a stifled moan reaches your ears.

By the time your hand sweeps up to ease off the heavy ammo belt around his waist, the bulge in his pants is considerable—a fucking pain to maneuver around as you tug down his trousers into a dramatic ‘v’. Boba’s hand, hanging off the arm rest, jerks the moment your fingertips brush along the dark curls, trailing up and taking a hold of his cock with a careful grip.

He’s heavy in your hand, thicker than the circumference of your forefinger and thumb pressed together, and harder than kriffing durasteel. You can feel his watchful gaze carve a burning path over the contours of your face, drifting to where you hold him.

He grumbles an inaudible complaint under his breath, curling his fists by his sides. Despite his obvious irritation with your feathery touches, he lets you continue without so much as a grumpy sigh or snippy redirection. You preen at the small victory, delighted you’re able to explore before the short rope of his patience runs thin and snaps.

A sharp hiss of hair passes through the vocoder as you lightly tug on his cock, mesmerized by the firmness and the searing heat beneath your palm. From the base up you pull, fixed upon the dark flesh, flushed and pulsing as wetness pools at the tip as you pull down the foreskin, exposing the entirety of the wide head.

With your thumb you spread the bead of liquid around, intent on continuing your little exploratory endeavor until Boba shifts and grumbles out an order to stop.

“Not like that,” he huffs, laying his fingers over yours that hold his cock. “Harder.”

A fiery blush licks at your cheeks as he squeezes both sets of fingers into a firm fist, leading your hand into the pace he desires.

It’s rough, much firmer than you’d think would be pleasurable—but you oblige. The wetness that dribbles from the flushed tip lessens the friction but with quick lick over your palm, he glides easily in your hand. Boba’s head rolls back against the headrest, exposing a sliver of brown skin beneath the lip of his helmet.

It’s not long before your wrist aches—just shy of a couple moments. Luckily enough for you and your poor hand musculature, it doesn’t take more than a handful of minutes—rough and with no real discernible technique other than just fucking into your fist. Boba’s knee jerks as he lifts his head and arches his hips, chest heaving with shallow inhales.

“Take it in your—in your mouth,” he orders in a rough rasp. His chest heaves as his hand finds purchase in your hair, jerking your head closer to his cock. It stings—Maker, why does he pull so hard?

With a huff, you listen and part your lips. The tip of his cock slips into your heated mouth, twitching as your tongue rolls against the small slit leaking a near continuous stream of precum. With a couple short tugs and a gentle suck around the head, his fist clenches tight and drags you further down his shaft.

You gag around him, a low grunt rattling through his diaphragm as he cums. It’s warm, thick and fills your mouth, but the heavy weight on the back of your head leaves you no other choice than to swallow. Boba curses, cock still twitching when he lets you up and pulls out of your mouth. You gasp for precious air as you wipe off your lips with your sleeve, sparring a look up at the bounty hunter.

The reclined figure of his body molds into the chair, a strip of dark skin peeking out from beneath the cowl has his head rests back against the seat. His fingers twitch when you shift, squirming as the twisting heat in your lower stomach festers and grows.

You watch his throat bob as he speaks, “If you want something...take it.”

The hard enamel of your teeth cut into your bottom lip as you carefully rock forward, dragging yourself off the ground. It takes a moment to shuck off your pants and perch yourself over his knees after shimming his trousers further down his legs. Boba only bothers to look up with lazy interest once your cunt, soaked and smeared over your inner thighs presses against his upper legs, wetting the muscled limbs.

You steel your nerves against the sharp analytical gaze through the carved lines of his vizor and give your hips a tentative roll along the length of his softening cock. For all you know he could be asleep—yet you have a sneaking suspicion as to what his eyes are glued to. You’re no idiot.

Boba’s gloved fingertips skim up your thigh, tempted to go higher but instead they drop back onto the armrests. You chew the inside of your lip, shooing away the urge to frown. Whatever—dwelling upon the quick movement is best left in the dark.

He sucks in a sharp breath of air as you rock your hips for a second time, your slick folds gliding smoothly along his member. It’s a light pressure, no more than a gentle caress so as not to overwhelm—but nonetheless still pleasurable, sating that untamable fire that burns bright in your belly.

Your eyes drift back to those white gloves, his fists balled and stationary on the armrest. You want them on you. You want to feel his callouses scrape over your skin—one last craving you need to put an end to.

It’s a risk—a big one. Yet, throwing your worries out the window is easier than your indecisiveness.

Both your hands slowly crawl over the white gloves, cautious in pulling them off as if he were some rabid Nexu ready to bite. He is, in a way and your sneaky little ploy certainly does not go unnoticed.

Boba jerks his hands up the arm rests. “What makes you think you’re allowed to touch me?”

His tone is scathing—knocks you so far off that small pedestal of bravery you’ve mustered and leaves you wilting. You should’ve known, stopped while you were ahead. Though knowing in the back your mind that something like this would happen, doesn’t take away from the razor sharp embarrassment that cuts through your chest.

Your forearm shoots up to rub away the burning itch of tears that threaten to fall, your head turning away in a mixture of shame and regret. Stupid—

You’re about to retreat, slide off his lap like a miserable pile of goo, but the delicate touch on your chin, coaxing you to face him startles you. Even more so when he tugs at the offending glove and brushes a bare finger down your cheek, a mere whisper against your skin. “You have a soft heart.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he slips the other glove off, settling one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other tentatively slip between your legs and presses against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure.

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him and with a firm hand, he parts your soaking cunt and thrusts two of his fingers inside, grinding the heel of his palm into the little bundle of nerves.

With a chuckle his hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. “Good little Rabbit—cum on my fingers.”

Your body seizes as white hot heat sears through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a long whine filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around his fingers.

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body after your euphoric high. You’re barely conscious of your actions as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. With a satisfied hum, he slips them out, allowing your head to finally rest against his chest.

His hands are warm around your hips, tracing little patterns into the exposed skin—so light you’re sure you’re imagining it. You chide yourself—there’s no space for these kind of things. Not now.

The beskar is an uncomfortable thing to lay your cheek on—cold too—yet his soft sigh convinces you to stay put. Just for another second, suspended in a strange intimacy that neither of you should be dipping your toes into.

A gentle hush encompasses the cockpit, lulling you into a light doze. Though as your eyes struggle to stay open, the subtle inhale before a sentence is spoken keeps them from shutting. You wonder if he’ll muster the courage to speak or if he’ll let the words settle back into that lake teeming with uncovered mysteries and things better left unsaid.

“What would you do...” The beginning of his words tapers off as if he could pretend you wouldn’t hear it. It’s low, almost...uncertain. Well, as uncertain as Boba Fett could be with a head so full of his arrogance and pride.

His fingers drift higher up your back, ghostlike and teasingly soft.You hate the goosebumps that are left in the wake of his bare fingertips crawling up your spine. Swallowing, your fingernail taps at the chipped paint and circles the little brand on his cuirass. “Do what?”

He doesn’t answer right away—chewing on his words like they’ve stuck to the roof of his mouth and don’t intend to leave. He shifts and you’re afraid he’s about to shove you off his lap and storm away, but all he does is clear his throat and settle a palm on your upper back. “If I...if I let you go. What would you do?”

Your brows furrow, your heart kicking up into a rapid flurry of panic. That’s not fair—that’s not fair of him to say. You look up, your own twisted features staring back at you in the muted spectrum of blacks and grays in his visor. This is a joke—another one of his games to push you over the edge while he gets to bask in his idea of proclaimed hilarity. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s not supposed to be.”

You ball your hand into a fist as a tidal wave of resentment, followed with chilly anguish washes over you. Your head spins and battles with opposing opinions and reasons why he should just go through with delivering you to his employer. Be done with it and get his moneys worth without any consequence.

And yet, there’s a minuscule part of you, sprouting away from the dark cloud of inevitability, that wonders. Wonders if you should fight—convince him you deserve to live, untangle you from the disastrous web the Empire has cast around your limbs with no hope of escape. You sigh and shut your eyes.

“I’d never escape from the Empire even if you did,” you murmur. “The only time I’d be free is if I were dead.”

<><><><><><><><>

He promised himself that this would never happen.

Never let his own desires and emotions interfere with a job.

It’s irresponsible, bad for business and frankly quite stupid. This could cost him his credibility, his credits, his life.

You don’t double cross your employer—it’s the first rule of business that even a child would understand.

Boba Fett is cunning and clever; always one step ahead of his enemies. Always methodical, refusing to leave any loose ends that even hint at coming back around to bite him in the ass. He’s convinced himself that a will of iron is necessary—the only way to survive and to grow stronger than those who’ve hurt him—bested him in the game of life.

Cold, methodical, a legend.

And you…

You are soft. Gentle and too kind for someone to be caught up in this sort of mess. He shouldn’t be delivering you to Death’s doorstep in exchange for credits. You should be off living on some remote planet, far out of the reaches of the Empire. Away from him. Billions of miles from his bloody fingertips that stain your skin like black ink against a white canvas.

But you’ve made your choices and he’s made his.

And none of it soothes the festering storm, with winds more forceful than those on Kamino, that rattle through his ribcage. It tears through his sternum, cuts through the beskar and leaves an open wound—raw and tender that grows tenfold the second your eyes land on him.

You don’t beg when he hoists you up from the floor, no blubbering tears or last minute bargains to spare your life. Not even as you both reach the loading ramp, one mere tap of the button that would reveal you both to the man waiting on the landing platform. One button and he’d be free of you. You’re braver than most.

He’ll give you that.

He shouldn’t have said anything—saved himself from the steady ache that comes with having to look you in the eye. Drives a stake so deep into his chest the second you spare him a precious smile that twinkles like unrefined coaxium and thank him. You’re thanking him for the barest amount of kindness he offered to you on your last days of life.

Boba isn’t sure who he hates more; himself or you.

He must be staring too long—committing each soft slope and contour of your cheeks, the freckles, your softly parted lips, to memory—because the gentle nudge to his arm startles him.

“I’ll be alright,” you grin. You make a poor impression of a blaster with your finger and thumb and mimic the sound of it firing. “One shot to the head and I’m gone.”

“I know how blasters work.”

You shrug and glance at his hand that hovers over the button. “Then why are you hesitating?”

The million credit answer. One that you both know the answer to.

“Because you won’t be dying. Not today and not while I’m still alive.”

<><><><><><><><><><><>

The outfit is garish.

Too white.

Too clean.

A color that deceives his true nature and masks what he truly is— a viper laying in wait for unsuspecting prey and witless victims. The smile that curls along the man’s unshaven face is meant to charm, but all it does is unsettle.

Boba has never once trusted a man who relies solely on the weight of his words rather than his own actions. All that this man has are words. Words, and a flimsy position within the ranks of the Empire. That, and twelve heavily armed Death Troopers that guard him, if you count them as well.

Orson Krennic.

A man that’ll get what’s coming to him. Perhaps not Boba’s own plasma bolt through the middle of his finely pressed uniform—but something equally as satisfying.

Grey hairs that escape his hat glint like shards of metal shrapnel in the midday sun, the Director’s smile steady as he speaks. “Took you long enough, bounty hunter.”

Boba’s teeth clamp onto his tongue, the metallic taste of blood flooding his tastebuds. “Too bad you have to rely on one, Director.”

Krennic snorts, folds his arms behind his back and saunters closer. “And your bounty? What of her?”

“Dead.”

#boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #UH OH CLIFF HANGER KJDKFJ #star wars #boba fett #fanfic #my writing #the last favor series #orson krennic #reader insert #FINALLY THIS HOE DONE

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link4eva · 4 years ago

Text

Kiro’s Rhythm Date Translation [CN]

Hey, y’all! A quick note before you begin reading, I do not know any Chinese at all so Google Translate is the real MVP here. I’ve just taken the time to write down what comes out and changed some words here and there to try and make it make more sense. So apologies for the amateur translation in advance lol. This is just mainly to get the gist of the date before it eventually releases on the ENG server. Hope you enjoy it!

*Spoilers ahead for future content!*

[First Part]

After typing the last word of the report, I hit the enter key hard with my hand and then let out a cry of joy from my heart.

MC: It’s finally done!!!!!

Kiro: You’re finally done!!!!

Almost at the same time, Kiro, who was sitting on the sofa, took off his headset and threw it aside, raising his hands and cheering along with me. The next moment, his twinkling eyes looked at me.

Kiro: MC, let’s go out on a date! I thought for sure that this weekend would be spent working, but it seems that God still cares for us!

He didn’t wait for me to answer, he had already taken a few steps and sat across from me, holding the back of the chair and looking at me expectantly.

Kiro: Let’s go to the cake place that just opened up recently, I want to try it.

He held up his fingers and began to count the deliciousness of his thoughts. I cleared my throat and interrupted his daydream mercilessly.

MC: That’s it! The sunny weather is so nice, shouldn’t we go out and exercise? Savin asked me to supervise you. Recently, you’ve been slacking on your exercise regime to write songs. So...

Kiro: ...I knew it.

He lowered his head and sighed heavily but the happy smile returned in the next second.

Kiro: Let’s just exercise. Life lies in exercise and to enjoy life is to exercise with Miss Chips!

He told me to wait in a tone of voice I had never heard before and got up to change his clothes. I also went to change into sportswear that I had left at his house when we exercised last time.

Putting on my shoes and standing in the hall, I picked up the baseball cap and put it on Kiro’s head. I helped him straighten his messed up bangs.

He led the way down the hallway, but his toes tapped the ground like a beat as if he couldn’t wait.

MC: Make sure you don’t get recognized when we’re out later.

Kiro: Don’t worry, I promise to complete the mission!

Kiro obediently agreed. Before leaving the house, he turned his head and waved at Apple Box lying on the sofa.

Kiro: The task of housekeeping is left to you. We are going out!

I don’t know if Apple Box understood initially. To my surprise, he seemed to understand and replied with a “Woof!”.

[Second Part]

The weather outside was just right. The breeze that is blowing is warm on my face, almost as if it’s driving away the fatigue caused by the long days of work.

I followed Kiro and jogged forward aimlessly. From time to time, he slowed down and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with me, humming as if he had just written a song.

Kiro: MC, are you tired?

As soon as I met his gaze, he couldn’t wait to inquire again and the thoughts in his eyes couldn’t hide.

MC: Although I am a bit tired, I can hold on for a while!

Kiro: Ah, that’s it, but-

He suddenly stopped halfway through his words and a trace of worry flashed across his face. I looked and stopped teasing him for the time being.

MC: Actually, it’s not impossible to rest for an hour or two.

Hearing these words, his eyes lit up.

Kiro: Then let’s rest for “one or two hours”!

He grabbed my hand and walked happily in one direction. The warmth of his palm matched the warmth of his eyes.

MC: Where are we going?

As soon as I asked, after turning a corner, a familiar street appeared in front of us. Tall and lush trees stood, exquisite old-fashioned buildings scattered. There were bustling young men and women and the smell of honey and coffee permeated the air.

--Isn’t this the street that has been very popular recently?!

I immediately caught on to what he was doing. I was amused but also a little annoyed.

MC: Have you planned the route in advance?

Kiro nodded, showing a natural smile.

Kiro: SInce I’m coming with you, of course. I have to plan every step in advance! There is a shop here where you can pick the toppings to put on a chiffon cake. The most popular one is raspberry.

I don’t know whether it was affected by Kiro’s vivid appearance or by the sweet fragrance in the air, Savin’s image slowly came to mind.

MC: It sounds really delicious!

Kiro: Alright then, let’s go! I have already made a reservation!

In a few seconds, I put aside my worries and joined him among the crowds on the street, enjoying the break.

It was a perfect moment, but all of a sudden, an unexpected guest stopped in front of us.

[Third Part]

Reporter: Excuse me, both of you! We are randomly interviewing attractive couples! Can you answer a few questions? *The translation came out as “high-value” so I’m going to assume it means “attractive”.*

The moment I saw the camera, I was already in front of Kiro, looking at this fashionable, young man with vigilance.

MC: Sorry, we’re busy at the moment. You can interview other people.

Reporter: But other people don’t fit the original intention of our “Feast for the Eyes” program! Only a few minutes of your time!

Reporter: Huh? Why does this man look a bit like…?

I had a bad feeling and I stretched out my hand to hold Kiro’s cuff. The next moment, the reporter slapped his thighs one by one--

Reporter: Yep! It’s Kiro!

His voice isn’t loud but it still draws all the eyes around us.

MC: You’ve got the wrong person! Let me trouble you!

I resolutely denied his claim before everyone could react. I immediately pulled Kiro into the crowd and quickly slipped away.

Kiro: (pouting) Why do we always encounter such things when we go out on dates?

In addition to the loud voices behind me asking, “Where’s Kiro?”, there is also Kiro silently complaining.

[Cut to Kiro’s house]

After hurriedly “escaping” back home, my highly elevated heartbeat finally began to calm down.

MC: Safe at last…

Kiro: I didn’t eat anything this time but I burned a lot of calories.

MC: Probably because God is standing on Savin’s side, we can do nothing but accept it!

Kiro: But I don’t want to accept it…

Kiro plopped on the sofa and hugged Apple Box and looked up at me with a sad pair of eyes.

Kiro: Alas, why can’t he make this world just for the two of us! *I had to change some of the wording here. What came out originally was kinda wonky.*

I looked at my phone and found out that what happened just now did not arouse any attention. I felt secretly relieved. Kiro saw this and looked out the window and saw the sun. He sighed.

Kiro: It’s so rare when the weather is this nice. We finally had some time together… It’s a pity not to do anything.

MC: Then let’s do something we can do at home. Perhaps watching a movie?

Kiro: Movies… Are there any good movies recently?

Although he appeared to be uninterested, he still put his head down and browsed the newly released movies with me.

Before I had a chance to look, a furry head squeezed between the two of us and pushed Kiro aside.

Kiro: Apple Box, don’t make trouble… Wait, what are you biting?! Ahh! Let go of my game controller!

Kiro swooped forward and Apple Box dodged swiftly. In the hot pursuit of Kiro chasing Apple Box, he accidentally bumped into some things.

The screen that had just stopped at the movie interface suddenly switched and several dynamic virtual characters appeared. As if drawn to this, Apple Box blinked his beady eyes and looked straight at the TV screen.

Kiro quickly grabbed the other half of the game controller from Apple Box’s mouth and clicked it angrily. Little brains.*I don’t know what “little brains” is haha.*

Kiro: I finally caught you, bad guy!

Apple Box, whose “toy” was suddenly taken away, looked at Kiro innocently. He wiggled his ears aggrievedly. I was softened by his eyes and I reached out to rub his head.

MC: Apple Box, you must be a good boy and not be so rowdy.

Apple Box: Woof!

As if he understood, Apple Box shook his head obediently and his fluffy fur rubbed against the palm of my hand. He then turned around excitedly and wagged his tail at the TV screen.

Kiro and I looked at the dazzling picture on the screen at the same time. The characters on it also writhed in time.

Kiro: Miss Chips, let’s play a motion sensory game!

MC: Why don’t we play this? Sports and leisure combined are great!

Talking in unison, we both laughed out loud. After deciding what to do, Kiro and I sat down on the carpet in front of the TV, choosing a game that we could play for a while. He put his head on my shoulder, expressing his opinions from time to time.

Kiro: I think this game is good! It’s fun!

Kiro’s breathing on my neck was ticklish and I shrank my neck. I watched the screen being manipulated to jump up and down to escape. The character retreated into himself.

MC: This feels too difficult. Let’s look at the next one.

Kiro: It’s not that bad! I set a world record in only one attempt!

He raised the corners of his mouth as he spoke, his expression extremely proud. Although he knew that as KEY, he was skilled at all aspects in the game.

MC: Well, then this game is not challenging for you…!

As if I had seen myself in the game, I decisively switched to the next interface.

Kiro: Eh? I don’t seem to have played this game before…

I was overjoyed when I heard this and made a decision almost immediately.

MC: Then let’s play “Just Dance”!

This is a very popular music and dance game recently. Players can choose different dancer characters to play as. Players have to imitate the people on screen and dance in order to win.

Because this game is simple and easy to use and, and has many popular songs, it has been popular all over the world after it’s release.

MC: Now both of us are novices. This is equal ground!

I gave a controller to him, nodded and said in a serious tone. Kiro raised his chin slightly with a smirk.

Kiro: So, MC, do you want to challenge my status as KEY?

MC: I won’t give up easily!

After that, the game begins.

[Fourth Part]

If I could go back in time by just 10 minutes, I definitely would’ve said something different about the game being “equal grounds”.

MC: What! Jumping wrong again!

The movements the two of us were doing were obviously strange at first. But after a while, we became one with the dance.

MC: Why am I always slow!

Kiro: Don’t worry! Treat this as a novice level and then adapt slowly from there.

MC: Then this newbie level is too difficult for me…

I was bitter. I felt as though my hands and feet were rebelling against me.

Kiro: It’s not difficult as long as you master the basics. For example, this movement here. As long as your hand is raised to this position, you will be guaranteed to pass.

He gestured for me to do the movement that stumped me just now, and I followed suit.

MC: Like this?

Kiro: Almost.

He walked up to me, grabbed my wrist and raised my head, then tilted my head to the other side.

MC: Is this it?

I followed his instructions and turned into ten twisted poses. I found the smile on his face grew wider and wider and he couldn’t help but laugh.

Kiro: Puff hahaha, MC, you are so obedient!

MC: KIRO!

I became annoyed at once. I reached out to try and mess up his hair but he leaned back and dodged me smoothly.

Kiro: I was wrong! I was wrong! I was wrong!

MC: I won’t let you get away!

I kept tickling the sensitive skin on his waist. Kiro dodged from left to right and wrapped me in his arms. He is like a koala. He has me locked firmly in his arms, making it hard for me to move.

Kiro: Haha, so you won’t be able to tickle me!

There was a bit of pride in his laughter and his hot breath after exercising clung to my back, even in my chest. The rhythm of our heartbeats can’t be concealed. My heartbeat somehow increased.

MC: I, I won’t do what I did before again. Let go of me first, or how else can we continue playing the game?

Kiro: Well, alright.

He released his arms, looking reluctant, but turned his attention back to the game again.

Kiro: So this time we will warm up with the easier songs and then challenge each other with the more difficult ones!

I didn’t know what Kiro’s “simple difficulty” meant until the melody of a familiar foreign nursery rhyme played from the speakers. But soon I put the matter of nursery rhymes aside and danced awkwardly with the little dino on screen.

With the cute and cheerful melody, everything becomes more fun. Compared with the previous song, Kiro danced such an overly cute dance. It was a bit strange.

He stared at the screen earnestly, making movements while humming his own jumbled lyrics to the tune of the music.

Kiro: (singing) I’m a little dinosaur~ little dinosaur~

His blonde hair puffed up by the hairband also jumped along with his movements. A sweat bead from his forehead “ticked” off and fell onto his collarbone hidden by his collar.

MC: Obviously I am the little dinosaur!

The “perfect” floating above the screen made my previously annoyed mood become more excited. The magic of the game is to make people forget all their troubles. When I’m with Kiro, these simple dances turn into the simplest happiness.

After the song ended, I watched the rating jump up to four stars. I couldn’t help but hug Kiro and cheer.

MC: Ahh, it’s four stars! Only a little bit short away from getting full stars!!

Kiro: See, that wasn’t so hard for you, was it?

MC: Sure enough, it’s not difficult to master the trick you taught me!

I confidently picked the next song to “conquer” but suddenly saw a familiar name.

MC: Huh, there is this song?

It was a song from Kiro’s latest album. I quickly turned to look at him. However, Kiro frowned slightly while staring at his song, his expression a bit solemn.

Kiro: This song was licensed to them. But I feel that it’s a bit awkward to dance to my own songs in the game.

Seeing him acting unlike his usual self, I felt a sense of curiosity. Even though the “highly difficult” sign made me a little worried, I still pressed the confirm button decisively.

MC: Let’s dance to this song. I want to see if the original dancer can beat the game!

Meeting his gaze, Kiro hesitated for a second and quickly gave in.

Kiro: If you want to dance, MC, you can, but this dance is very difficult. Don’t force yourself to.

MC: Hmm!

Accompanied by the “START” character flashing, the intermingled sound of the electric guitar and keyboard sounded. Kiro held the controller and imitated the people on the screen, raising his hand to make a pose.

Boom--

The powerful drum beats go straight to the heart. Kiro’s face is very serious and every movement that he executes is in rhythm with the music and is full of power.

He stepped barefoot on the carpet, clearly wearing ordinary sportswear, but he seemed to be standing in the centre of the stage.

And in this small living room, me being the only audience, got to “exclusively” enjoy this performance. I don’t know if I should watch him wholeheartedly or if I should continue to clumsily dance with the animation.

While I was lost in thought, I accidentally tripped over my left foot with my right. Seeing that the hand that was swung out was about to hit Kiro, I withdrew it quickly.

I was hit with an elbow

MC: Ouch!

I squatted down, clutching the area I was hit, and buried my head between my knees.

Kiro: MC? What happened?!

He squatted down worriedly in front of me with his arms open. It looked like he wanted to hug me to comfort me but was worried that it would be bad so he stopped midway.

Kiro: What’s wrong? Is your leg cramping?

MC: Just now, I…

I shook my head, thinking of the silly thing I did just now. My ears and face were beet red. Before I had time to explain, Kiro put one hand behind my back and one hand under my knees and lifted me up.

MC: Wait! I can walk by myself!

He denied my protests and placed me gently on the sofa in a few large strides. He slowly lifted up one of my feet and carefully pressed the tight muscles of my calf with the pad of his finger.

Kiro: Does it hurt? Tell me if it hurts.

I forgot to respond. Seeing that I wasn’t saying anything, he slowed his movements down again and became more gentle. The sunset shining from the outside hit the top of his head forming a very gentle glow. It gave me the urge to rub it.

MC: Kiro, I’m fine. I didn’t hurt myself by forcing myself... I was just watching you…

The more I talked, the quieter I became. The temperature of my cheeks rose. After all, it would be too embarrassing to explain that I hit myself while dancing!

It was silent for a few seconds and Kiro finally laughed out loud.

Kiro: I didn’t expect my Miss Chips to be so honest. Now, just look at me.

Kiro raised his hand in a squatting position, and I found myself looking into his gentle blue eyes. When the music hit it’s climax, the drum beat gradually grew faster and got closely intertwined into an airtight net as if the soul is enveloped in it. *Wording was a little weird here. I think it’s supposed to be a heartbeat but the kanji for heart (心) isn’t in the original text.*

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Like my heartbeat right now, it's so strong that it’s about to beat out of my chest. Kiro seemed to see right through me and stood up. He supported the back of the sofa with one hand and held my wrist with the other to prevent me from escaping. When his nose came up to meet mine, he rubbed it.

Kiro: MC, I’m curious…

Looking at my bewildered and embarrassed face, he suddenly gave a sly smile.

Kiro: Is the rhythm of your heartbeat the same as mine right now?

His eyes were full of warmth and gentleness. His words were like a poet writing lyrics, a sorcerer chanting a bewitching spell.

Kiro: It is the same as mine. Everytime it beats. It only beats for you.

The breath that belonged to him slowly approached, the music continued playing in the background, and the game on screen kept showing “miss”.

The rhythm of our heartbeats has already been in sync with the beat and sweat. *This last part here was a little wonky with the wording*.

[END]

(Here is the link to his "Strawberry Invitation" call after the date!)

#mlqc kiro #mr love kiro #mr love #mr love game #mr love queen's choice #date translation #i wanna dance with him #i want him to dance for me #and shake dat ass

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chaseatinydream · 4 years ago

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sly san who sacrifices (iii) || c.s (atz)

➳ pairing: reader x choi san (ateez)

➳ word count: 2580

➳ genre: badboy au; fluff; angst

➳ synopsis: to the school, he may be a bad boy, the worst of the worst, but to you, he’s choi san, father of three cats, your best friend and ultimately, the boy you’re in love with.

>>>

You’re sitting at one of the tables in the open area of the coffee shop, watching the birds flutter gracefully overhead as they caw to one another. The bright, multicolored walls of the surrounding shop houses brighten the area, hydrangeas reaching upwards like meandering fingers, their pretty white blooms looking like the puffy white clouds in the blue sky above them.

There’s almost something magical about this moment, at this little coffee shop. It holds so many memories for you and your best friend, from the very first time you learned that the school’s fearsome bad boy only liked his coffee tooth rottingly sweet to the many lighthearted chats you’d had over a shared frappe even though San was rich enough to buy twenty of his own.

You know this place like it’s the back of your hand, memories tugging at you from every little mismatched table and chair, the chimes dangling from the front door like music to your ears. By all means, this should be a peaceful day for you, sipping coffee at your usual spot with the perfect weather to accompany it... But today?

It’s anything but that.

They spill from the inside of you before you can stop them.

“I think I like San.”

When the words leave your mouth, they’re something along the lines of what you’d call a revelation. It’s as if your eyes have been opened to the truth, like something has been hiding it from you all this while, buried under layers of platonic feelings and the label of mere friendship. It feels like a thousand galaxies have exploded in the space of a single breath, stars and suns dying out all at once, an entire swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You turn to the one sitting opposite you. Park Seonghwa, resident school badboy, kitten lover and one of your new best friends, returns your gaze over the rim of his cup, eyelashes fluttering a little as he takes in your words. Your breath catches and you lean forward in your chair, waiting for him to react, waiting for his verdict...

If you are expecting some form of surprise, a trace of shock, at least, you are sorely disappointed. The older boy merely takes a long, relaxed sip of his cappuccino, sets down the cup with way too much calm for a moment such at this and nods with all the patience of a sage.

“I know.”

He knows?

You nearly choke on your own coffee, turning around to cough rather ungracefully as the hot caffeine scalds your throat. At the sound of your sputtering, Seonghwa yelps in alarm and rushes around the table to slap your back gently in some attempt to help you, “Are you alright?”

You wave him off, setting down your cup unsteadily as you wheeze for air. A little of the coffee spills over the rim and onto the cup. “Y-yeah... Just... Give me a moment.”

As you wipe your mouth, you try to collect your thoughts. What does Seonghwa mean by the fact that he knows? You’ve never told anyone else but him! Hell, even you just found out yourself!

“How-” You cough again and Seonghwa almost reaches over to pat you on the back once more. “How did you know?”

Seonghwa’s hand falters for a split second before it touches you and returns to his side, where it rests next to his half finished cup of coffee, a curious frown pulling on his lips. “I’ll answer your question if you answer mine. When did you realise that you like San-ie?

Your eyebrows pinch together as you try to determine the exact point of time you had realised this fact. Thinking back, you wind back your memories like the film on a cassette tape, watching endearing moments and listening to seemingly simple words replay in your mind over and over again.

The feeling in your chest started about a month ago, when you had been over at San’s house one day after school. San had decided to play truant, calling the lessons boring and had somehow dragged you along with him even though you’d protested the entire way. Claude had nearly had a coronary when the two of you had rung the doorbell of the front gates, lecturing San like a stern father the entire way into the main house. But instead of turning the same venomous gaze onto Claude as San did to all his teachers, your best friend had merely worn a happy smile as he listened to his butler’s nagging, looking the most content you’d ever seen him.

It was still early in the day and you were exhausted from being practically kidnapped by your best friend, so San had suggested playing with his pets. The two of you had sat on the white marbled floors of the mansion’s entry hall, Shiber curled up in San’s lap while you curled your fingers through Darong’s soft grey fur. It had been a warm, peaceful afternoon, and while nothing especially significant had happened at all, you remembered the conversation the two of you had had as if it were just yesterday.

“Doesn’t this feel like a family?”

You paused in stroking Darong, the tiny cat mewing in protest when your hand stilled against its fur. Frowning, you turned around to look at San a little more clearly, taking in the way he was casually lounging against the wall of the hallway. Dressed in sweats and a simple hoodie with a small Shiba Inu snoozing in his lap, he looked nothing like the rebel he was in school, so intensely focused on scratching Shiber behind the ears that you’d briefly wondered if he had said anything at all.

“What did you say?” You asked, reaching to scratch Puchi under the chin and you felt the larger cat purr ever so softly, entire body vibrating as he sank into your touch. The smile came to San’s lips naturally, his eyes never leaving Shiber as he spoke with ease, seemingly lost in thought.

“This. Us.” He emphasized, rolling his lower lip between his teeth. Your eyes were involuntarily drawn to that minute action, fingers slowing under Puchi’s head as you waited for him to elaborate. “This kind of feels like a family, don’t you think?”

You thought about it for a moment, fully intent on teasing him for a moment... but there was something quiet, somber, even, in his tone that stopped you from doing so. Frowning a little, you cocked your head and asked aloud, voice laced with curiosity.

“How so?”

“Well...” San dragged the word out thoughtfully, squeezing Shiber lightly. The dog let out a tiny ‘woof’ and buried his face deeper into San’s belly, sniffing the hem of his master’s shirt. But San didn’t react at all, eyes lost in some imaginary world you couldn’t quite see. “I could be the dad and you could be the mom, you know. And they could be our kids.”

His free hand, the one that wasn’t resting on the ruff of Shiber’s collar, pointed at the two cats in your lap and for a second, something delicate and soft, like the wings of a butterfly, brushed the edges of your heart.

“Yeah.” You breathed softly, as if you could break the precious silence of the room by speaking just a little too loud, closing your own eyes. “We could be.”

“I’m not sure... Probably a while ago.” You try to play it off. There’s something just too intimate about that moment to you, too precious for you to reveal to even Seonghwa. The blond haired boy merely shrugs, taking a mouthful of his latte. The two of you sit in peaceful silence for a while and you take the opportunity to ponder your thoughts.

San.

Your best friend.

There��s something about him that’s just... different. You aren’t sure how to describe the lightness that you feel when you’re with him, how he seems to intuitively know what to do whenever you’re feeling down. Everyone may call him a rebel, violent, reckless, but really, you know that he is a kind person at heart.

“You’ve changed him, you know?” Seonghwa tells you softly and you’re startled out of your thoughts, staring at him in surprise. You’re utterly confused, quite unable to comprehend his words.

“What do you mean?” You nearly trip over your words in your haste, but Seonghwa merely smiles gently at you, patting your hand with his own. “Ever since coming to this school and meeting you, San has really become so different. From someone who didn’t care about who he hurt, from a person who cared only for himself and enjoyed playing others like they were his own dolls, he’s become so much more... human.”

“What? Nah.” You try to wave his words off, feeling a little embarrassed. There’s no way you could have changed San so much. “San was already a nice person from the beginning, that’s how we got so close-”

“Did he ever tell you why he was expelled from his former school?” Seonghwa asks, voice serious and you halt, swallowing nervously. You know that San had been kicked out of his former school due to misbehavior on his part, but how serious could it be?

“No?”

“He got involved with a drug gang and dealing in contraband. That’s where he met Wooyoung.” Seonghwa tells you grimly and your mouth falls open in horror. You can’t comprehend exactly how serious that must have been. “And while he was high he got reckless and nearly beat another student half to death under the influence. The two of them got expelled together and came here.”

The rest of his words are left unsaid.

Where he met you.

“But... he met the rest of you... of ATEEZ!” You blabber furiously, head spinning in circles now. You don’t know what to say. “I mean, I’m sure all of you would have changed him for the better too! You’re all good friends who’d do anything for each other, wouldn’t you?”

Seonghwa nods firmly without a second’s hesitation at your words, fingers drumming on the side of his cup. “True. I’d do anything for any of my friends. But you see, there’s something different between good friends... and those who are good influences. If San came to any of us with a problem, we’d likely try to beat up the problem for him, take him out to the bar, encourage him to sleep his problem off.” You can’t help but let out a little snort at his words, but Seonghwa hushes you with a sad smile. “But with you? You teach San to rein in his anger, to keep his cool, to be the best person he can possibly be. He wants to be a good person for you.”

You’re stunned into silence.

“But-” You can barely find the words to protest with, reeling from shock. Did you... really do that to San?

“Think back on who he used to be. Whoring around, drinking till the wee hours of morning, hanging out late at parties.” Seonghwa tells you honestly. “But after meeting you, we barely see him there anymore. For example, last Tuesday’s party at Changbin’s house-”

“San, I’m stressed!”

“Oh?” Your best friend’s amused voice came over the phone as you whined and flopped onto your bed, notes sprawled over the sheets. “Isn’t the test tomorrow?”

You sat up so fast you could feel the bones in your back creaking, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “How do you of all people know that there’s a test tomorrow?”

“You’ve been ranting about it for the past week, silly.” He said so fondly that you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Could you bring over Darong for me to pet?” You joked, closing your eyes as you imagined running your fingers through the kitten’s soft fur. San’s house was at the opposite side of town, you mused to yourself in disappointment. What a pity, or you would have headed over to his mansion to give the small cat hugs and kisses-

Minutes later after you had hung up, San had arrived at your doorstep, a soft grey kitten in a basket under his arm and a stack of notes in his hands. Upon seeing your dumbstruck face, he had merely grinned, bopped you on the nose and jerked his head at the door.

“Wanna study together?”

“I told him I was stressed out over tests and he came over to study with me.” You recall, eyes widening. You weren’t aware that there was a party last Tuesday! “San didn’t tell me-”

“He wanted to spend time with you.” Seonghwa informs you gently, shaking his head in light amusement. “And we both know-”

“-San hates studying.” You finish off his sentence and Seonghwa chuckles softly, nodding. Then his smile softens into something a little more warm, a little more sweet and you can’t help but return it, your thoughts wandering to San.

Has he really changed that much?

“True love changes people.” Seonghwa tells you, beaming. “And even if you didn’t love San, I honestly think he’s already fallen for you. Hard, actually.”

Now that you can wave off confidently. “Nah, he just sees me as a friend.”

The side of Seonghwa’s lip quirks upwards and he leans forward, thumb swiping a bit of cream smudged on the side of your mouth and you yelp in shock, batting his hand away. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. “Seonghwa-oppa, what are you-”

“San does that to you all the time, you know?” Seonghwa grins, a mischievous grin playing on his lips and you blanch in realisation. You’d never realised-

Suddenly, it starts raining.

“Let’s go!” Seonghwa grabs your wrist and the two of you run for shelter, Seonghwa pulling you under the canvas of the shop’s awning. You’re breathless, wet from the rain, but you can’t help but laugh brightly as the truth comes to you, so much more clear this time.

“I love San.” You say louder this time and Seonghwa smiles near radiantly at you, slinging his leather jacket around your shoulders. It’s warm, but you crave for the thick wool of San’s red coat, the familiar scent that lingers there at the collar.

You want him.

“So take this until San gives you his coat instead.” He laughs and you wrap your arms around him to give him a big hug.

“Thank you, Seonghwa-oppa.”

The silver charms on your bracelet clink against each other as if calling to something, and you glance up in surprise.

There’s a lone man in the middle of the street, standing alone in the pouring rain, wearing a black coat and a cap tugged low over the his eyes, hands shoved in his pockets. Something about his posture, the slight sag of his shoulders and the way his head is tilted downwards, it makes you feel sad for him. Is he alright?

Squinting, you lean forward to catch a glimpse of his features, but the man merely hikes up the collar of the coat before you can see his face.

But he seems familiar... somehow.

“Seonghwa-oppa.” You tug at the older boy’s sleeve insistently, urgently, and he turns to look at you in confusion. You point at the man, certain that you’ve seen him somewhere before.

“Do you recognise him-”

But before you can finish your sentence, he’s already gone.

#ateez #ateez san #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #san fanfic #choi san #w; san #w; fanfiction

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celosiaa · 4 years ago

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Hi Connor, I hope you’re doing okay!!!!! 💖Thank you for letting me write this lil fic for your post about leaf pile shenanigans!!!!!! Everything you write, draw and headcanon for the Emmaverse is so perfect and I am so excited to write something within this beautiful AU. This got away from me a bit, but I hope it brings you some joy and you can vicariously enjoy the great outdoors through Jon, Tim, Martin and Emma’s mischief 🍁

From the front window of their new house, Martin has watched the tree turn from a bare-boned thing to blossom to vivid leaves firm even against summer storms. The tree has grounded him through sleepless nights with Emma since her arrival last year, through Tim and Sasha’s return to their lives, through Jon’s nightmares. A lighthouse against the Lonely. The house surveyor had told them to cut it down, unsure of how deeply its roots might reach, but Martin couldn’t bring himself to make the arrangements. He feels that he should give it something back, a repayment for its solidity, and so he has tended to it through the seasons with gentle dedication.

Alas, the leaves are a hazard now that they’ve turned orange and fallen. The rain turns them slippery, and Martin doesn’t want Emma to trip on them when she bundles him out of the door on the mornings he gets to take her to nursery, excited to have her Dad there after a long stint of nightshifts. Nor does he want them to disrupt Jon’s journey to the car on the days that his joints are stiff and he needs his cane. So he sees raking the leaves as part of his duty both to the tree and his family.

Martin falls into a happy and methodical reverie, until Tim interrupts: “You missed a spot.”

Tim is sitting with Jon on two rickety camping chairs they’d dragged out of the garage, ostensibly so they can watch Emma and an off-duty Iris play on the lawn. They’re both holding cups of tea, steaming in the cool, clear autumn air, and they have—until now—been catching up about work. It’s a busy time for them both: Jon is welcoming the new students, and the fire department are running their usual campaigns about safety with Halloween decorations and fireworks. Recently, Tim’s team even payed a visit to Emma’s nursery school to give a presentation, which she had gushed about for weeks afterwards.

Now, though, they seem to be up to something. As glad as Martin is to see them getting along, after so much and so long, he’s not sure he likes the matching mischievous looks on their face.

Martin pauses, leaning on the rake. He’ll humour them, just this once. (It will happen again, of course, but Martin always likes to pretend it’s a one-off.) “What do you mean, I’ve missed a spot?”

“He’s right,” Jon says, schooling his expression into one of seriousness, although the roguish glint lingers in his eyes, “By the drain.”

Martin doesn’t look, still playing along with his most petulant expression. “I started by the drain. It’s spotless.”

“We would never criticise your immaculate raking technique, Martin,” Tim promises, as if offended by the implication.

“We just wouldn’t want Mrs Jenkins complaining about her driveway flooding again,” Jon adds solemnly, placing down his tea, “Are you sure there are no leaves by the drain?”

“I’m one hundred percent sure,” Martin insists, trying not to smile and let on that he’s onto them.

“Because I can count at least seven from here,” Tim says, also balancing his tea on the concrete by his feet.

Jon tilts his head. “I would say eight.”

Tim nods exaggeratedly. “Jon says eight. And he remembered to wear his glasses today, so I trust his judgement.”

Only because Martin physically put the glasses on Jon’s face this morning, while Jon was going through the process of making cinnamon porridge half-asleep and on muscle memory alone. But Martin doesn’t mention this to Tim. Not that Tim isn’t well aware of Martin’s fussing, having—along with Jon—been bundled into a coat and scarf and gloves before being allowed to sit outside, justified by worried mentions of asthma flare-ups and ear infections and setting a good example for Emma.

Martin places a hand on his hip, still leaning on the rake. “Eight, you say?”

Tim and Jon nod in unison.

“That does sound like quite a lot of leaves,” Martin continues.

“You can never be too careful,” Jon says.

“Sometimes, the worst hazards start off small,” Tim tells them, “I would know.”

Martin quirks his eyebrows. “Perhaps I should check the drain, then.”

Jon nods, just once, managing to still look very serious. “Perhaps you should.”

“Well, then,” Martin sighs, taking his weight off the rake and beginning to turn towards the drain at the end of the driveway they share with their neighbours. He makes sure to speak loudly with his back turned. “Where on earth are these eight stray leaves?”

There’s the sound of a scuffle behind him, the camping chairs creaking and skittering on the concrete driveway, and a breathless laugh as Tim and Jon’s feet hit the ground in unison. There’s not much space between the camping chairs and the leaf pile, so Tim and Jon’s run-up is short but effective.

Martin turns just in time to see them launch themselves into the leaf pile, and he’s glad he constructed it on the grass rather than the concrete, because Tim and Jon don’t always think things through when they’re being competitive. Their landing is significantly cushioned, at least, and they end up on their backs, pillowed by red and orange leaves. Jon blows one out of his face and Tim laughs, loud and carefree, the sound echoing against the house.

“I won,” Tim declares.

“You did not,” Jon protests.

“Oh, I very much did.”

“Tim, if you are suggesting that—”

“If I’m suggesting what? That I was the county best at long jump between the ages of eight and eleven, and that gave me a natural advantage in this particular competition?”

Jon props himself up on his elbows on the leaf pile and looks imploringly at Martin, his glasses askew and a leaf stuck by its stem in the left hinge. “Martin.”

“I couldn’t possibly have seen who won,” Martin says, “I was busy inspecting the drain, which—like I said—is spotless.”

It’s at this moment that Iris lets out a slightly confused woof, as Emma abandons the mudpies they’ve been making together to copy her Baba and Uncle. She squeals, her little legs moving at full speed as she waddle-runs towards the leaf pile.

Martin’s too far away. He drops the rake, shouting, “Emma, no!”

But, of course, she doesn’t listen. She has a very specific mindset when it comes to times like this, an unshakable determination: Emma, yes. She runs to the leaf pile, stops clumsily in front of it, and then promptly jumps into its depths. Or, more accurately, she falls face-first into the pile, arms outstretched, her red wellies only just leaving the ground, and disappears through an Emma-shaped hole between where Tim and Jon are lying, looking somewhat dazed by the turn of events.

There’s a breathless moment, a frozen snapshot when the chilly late-afternoon turns momentarily sinister, all long shadows and suspended breezes. Martin doesn’t move, doesn’t hear the echoing clatter of the rake, until there’s a flurry within the leaf pile and then Emma emerges with a raucous giggle.

Everything rushes back into motion, the autumn colours warm and the moment welcoming again. Emma has popped up from the leaf pile like a meerkat from the ground, inspecting her surroundings, an image that is reinforced by her knitted hat with the attached bear-shaped ears. There’s a bright grin on her face, and a lyrical quality to her laugh that tells Martin she’s excited rather than hurt or afraid. Iris is circling and snuffling around the leaf pile, somewhat confused but not overtly concerned, and Jon smiles fondly as he picks leaves from the wool of Emma’s hat while Tim shakes with the force of his own laughter.

Martin’s breath whooshes out of him in relief and he finds himself laughing too, a little breathless. “God, Emma, you—please be careful, sweetheart.”

“I win, I win,” Emma says, clapping her hands together. Her mittens make her applause sound padded and soft.

Martin gives Jon a long-suffering look. Jon looks back, half-apologetic, half-look how happy she is, habibi. And it is true, Emma looks happy, rosy-cheeked and still laughing as Iris now makes her way into the leaf pile, too. It’s adorable. Martin’s losing sight of the possible dangers in favour of the cuteness, the fact that everyone is just fine. Better than fine. They’re happy, all of them.

“Alright, I concede defeat,” Tim announces, “Emma gets the title of Ultimate Leaf Leaper.”

Emma squeals in delight again. Jon pulls her further out of the leaves so she can sit on his lap, giving her a kiss on the cheek before he goes back to picking leaves out of her hat. Tim lifts his hand and Emma reaches across to give him an enthusiastic high five. Martin thinks he is going to melt into a puddle from the joy of it all.

“Stay right there,” Martin says to them, all thoughts of raking abandoned now, “I’m getting the camera.”

Later that night, they’re propped up in bed—Jon reading a battered library book about syntax in 19th century literature, and Martin clicking through the photos he’s uploaded from the camera to his laptop. Emma is fast asleep in her bedroom, after a bedtime story about a hedgehog making a home from leaves that Martin hopes will dissuade her from jumping into any random leaf piles she sees out and about, although he promised she can still play in the ones they make outside together.

“I’m definitely emailing this one to Sasha,” Martin says, angling the laptop towards Jon.

Jon folds the book carefully closed and looks at the photo. Tim and Jon are both half-engulfed by the leaf pile, with Emma sitting in Jon’s lap and Iris doing her best to likewise perch on Tim. They’re all grinning at the camera, bundled up in their coats and scarves and hats. It’s adorable.

“She’ll love it,” Jon agrees.

“It’s a shame she couldn’t come today.” Martin chews his bottom lip, shutting the laptop. “I don’t think we have any recent photos of her.”

“You’re not in it either,” Jon murmurs.

“Oh, well, I—someone had to take the photo.”

“Remind me, then,” Jon says, leaning over and kissing Martin’s hair, “To ask someone to take our picture when we go pumpkin picking.”

“Since when are we going pumpkin picking?”

“Since Emma told me she wanted to and I spent two hours Googling places nearby.”

“Not spooky—?”

Jon gives him a withering look. “Not spooky Google, no.”

“Good.” Martin smiles, a little shy. “We’ll get a family photo, then. At the pumpkin place. And we can frame it. And put it on the wall next to this one, and the one I’m going to take of Sasha and Tim next time they come over, and—oh, and that one of Emma on her first day at nursery I keep meaning to get printed!”

Jon smiles softly. “Our family.”

“Our family,” Martin agrees, “I’m really happy, Jon.”

He’s so happy he’s not sure what to do with it. He’s scared it will disappear, like fog through his fingers. He’s scared he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t tell Jon any of this, but Jon seems to understand, to feel it too.

“So am I, Martin,” Jon says, “So am I.”

Martin thinks of the tree, of its changing leaves, its vulnerability to the seasons, the way it antagonised the previous tenants of the house. And yet it’s still there. Martin thinks of his contentment in the same way, as he falls asleep next to Jon: a thing that might change, might grow, might retreat sometimes while blossoming at others, but it has deep roots, and he has no plans to cut it down any time soon, not anymore.

There we go!!!! I played Emmaverse bingo with myself with how many headcanons I could remember and get in here, but I’m sorry if I forgot anything or if the ages/order of events are a bit muddled!!!!! Thank you again for letting me write this, I had so much fun!!!!💖💖💖

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonmartin #emma #SKJDEJDJEKDJDJJ AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! THIS IS INCREDIBLE #your writing style is amazing my god it’s perfect #I love love love the detail about Martin not being in the picture #and the fear of happiness slipping through his fingers oh god #Jon and tim sitting outside together my HEART #oh my god and iris is the goodest girl I cry #emmaaaaaaa she’s so cuteeeeeeeeeee I can’t #so I’m gonna reread this 1000 times thank you so so so much #submission

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geekydane · 4 years ago

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Talk to me - Tommy Shelby x reader - Chapter 12

Masterlist

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Warning: Smut. My first ever written smut. I’m sorry in advance!

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It was hard finding the everyday rhythm after the whole episode. Going back to work, even though it was only down the stairs and down the hall was a strange sensation. You sat down at your desk a little later than you used to and Lizzie was there already, typing away on her typewriter. She looked up when you didn’t move for a long moment but didn’t say anything. You looked over the papers on your desk and told yourself to let go of all the thoughts that was roaming around about Tommy, Mick King and a possible revenge in the near future. Right now you did as Tommy told you to do and go about your daily work like you used to, like nothing had happened. He said it would calm the people working in the betting shop more, now that the news had spread about Tommy being shot and hospitalized. That might mean that the news about how you shot and beat the thugs to death had slipped as well. Lizzie still hadn’t said anything to you after the first hour so you came to the conclusion that it had.

After a few hours you were back in your habit of filling out invoices and archive the many papers. A few time doing the day the door opened and you looked up every time and expected Tommy to walk in as usual, but it was only some of the clerks that came in with more paperwork. It was in those moments that you thought that, no; everything wasn’t as it used to be and should be. It was in those moments that the inner demon in you started to convince you that you were wasting your time sitting behind the desk. You should get out and do something about Mick King.

In the evening you went home to get some clean clothing to the day after and went to Tommy’s room. He didn’t leave it much, because the doctors told him to stay in bed. The first day you went back to work he was about to get up with you. But Polly passed the doorway and yelled him back to bed and if there is one person Tommy respects, it’s his aunt Polly. You came back to the room and Tommy had gotten himself up and into the couch. He was holding a glass with golden brownish liquid. Whiskey, no doubt. He smiled big when you stepped in and he was about to get up when you signalled him to sit back down with a finger.

“Woof.” He jokingly said, as the signal might be alike to how you would train a dog. It worked though, so you just rolled your eyes at him and went to place your clothing in the drawer that was now yours. As was the one underneath.

“Anything interesting happened today? Couldn’t even hear them yelling from the betting shop.” Tommy snorted. It wasn’t like him to do nothing for so long and he was clearly frustrated. That also meant that you were one of the only things that could keep him occupied for only a small part of the day. You dumped into the sofa next to Tommy and his hands were immediately on you. He grabbed your hip and tried to drag you on top of him but you made yourself heavier by leaning the other way, so he couldn’t move you around.

“Oh come on. Can’t I just have a little fun?” He asked and pouted like a little kid. You giggled and it only made laugh too. It was immediately replaced by the hiss he made when his wound hurt.

“Damn you woman. I can’t resist your laugher.” He said with a heavy sigh. You bit you lip and looked towards his stomach. It was still bandaged under the white button up. There was even a little blood stain on the shirt as well, telling you that he haven’t been staying in bed as he should. You couldn’t say that you really wanted to crawl up on his lap and see what he might do to you. Your new gained memory came with a side effect of a little extra confident in that department, but you still didn’t want to hurt him any further. So you decided that you might actually tell him what has been on your mind the whole day.

“How and when are we going to get back at Mick King?” You asked him very quietly. You weren’t speaking loosely like it was nothing yet but you had definitely opened more up towards Tommy in the last days.

“You shouldn’t worry about that. Come here.” Tommy mumbled and started to pull in you again. You sighed and got a little closer so that he could place his lips on yours. It was a very hungry kiss, like he had been waiting for it for a long time.

“But he shot you.”

“And he’s gonna pay for that someday.” Tommy said against your lips and with strength you didn’t know he had yet, he pulled you over his lap, so that you were straddling him.

“When is… someday?” You asked as Tommy attacked your lips and let his hands run up and down the small of your back. It was a strange position to be in with a man all of the sudden. It wasn’t that you weren’t enjoying it. The thought of Tommy doing more intimate things to you crossed your mind as you kissed back. But it was like Mick Kings face had burned a hole in your memory and whenever you closed your eyes to enjoy Tommy, he was looking back at you in the dark, smirking. Too alive for your liking.

“Tommy.” You mumbled awkwardly against his lips and he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours.

“You don’t have to worry about that.” He said with a raspy voice. He tipped your head to the side with the tip of his nose and started to make is way from the area under your ear down to your collarbone. It felt like he was trying his best to distract you from the topic and you couldn’t understand why. Why wasn’t he angry about the fact that he got shot and even when he wasn’t carrying a weapon himself?

“I want to help you kill him.” You blurted out and it was like the air went from Tommy and he dropped his head against your shoulder hard.

“Can’t we just leave it for now I just want to…”

“Tommy we need to deal with…”

“I don’t want you to get involved with this!” Tommy half shouted at you and you jumped to your feet. At all other times you would have cowered away from him but you were too enraged to let the topic go. It sounded like you wanted the bastard dead more than Tommy did. Wasn’t that what he was working toward with his whole business plan in Manchester?

“But I want to get involved Tommy! I want to see the fucking bastard bleed!” You yelled back at him and you balled up your fists at your sides. Tommy sighed at you but looked at a spot over your shoulder. You turned to see Polly standing in the doorway dumbfounded with a hand on the handle. A little knot started to form in your stomach and you stiffened a little.

“Well I guess y/n speaks now.” She said, more to herself than you. Tommy ignored her and stood up with difficulty as he stretched his scares on his stomach. He went to you and put his arms around you from behind as you still stared at Polly. You felt exposed like she had caught you going around naked, so Tommy’s arms were very welcome around your middle. Polly put a hand over her hard and smiled at the two of you.

“I guess you are improving day by day. You two are good for each other.” She said and sounded very sure of herself.

“Can’t you talk some sense into your nephew?” You jumped to the opportunity of involving Polly. She widened her eyes as you spoke but quickly recovered and smiled.

“Does it have to do with some bastard than needs to bleed?” She spoke slowly and calmly. When the words were said by someone else you had to admit that you sounded a little crazy. Who were you becoming?

“Y/n wants to be involved in the whole dealing with Mick King and his men.” Tommy said tiredly and pinched his nose like the idea alone could give him a headache.

“Well I think that sounds like a good idea.” Polly simply said and gave you a sweet smile. She understood you, you could see that in her eyes. But Tommy wasn’t having it and he let go of you to step up to her.

“Polly… don’t…”

“I see no reason why she can’t be involved. You told me yourself that Lady Finch was crazy about her. She doesn’t have to be thrown into a fistfight. Leave that to Arthur.” Polly folded her hands like that were the final say.

“We already got a plan and…”

“Plans can change, Tommy, when better resources appear.” Polly’s statement made Tommy press his lips

“She’s not a resource.” He grumbled. You couldn’t help but smile at that. You knew Polly wasn’t meaning anything negative with it. You really wanted to be involved and Polly believed in you.

“But we know that she’s capable to handle herself now.” Tommy walk to the bed and sat down. He looked defeated. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily.

“Okay okay. I’ll find something for you. But you will carry the gun with you at all times.” Tommy was now addressing you instead of Polly and you walked to him and slung yourself around his neck, kissing him all over. Cheek, nose, eye, jaw and in the end on the lips. Tommy finally huffed out the hint of a laughed and accepted it. He wrapped an arm around you and dragged you closer.

“I’ll leave you to it. Remember God is watching” Polly said with a chuckle and left the room. If she just knew that you hadn’t been able to give yourself completely to Tommy yet, she would need god to watcher over you. You knew that Tommy was holding back because you were, but you were still very insecure about your body after the countless of rapes you had experienced. But the more you shared a bed with Tommy, the more confident you became as his hands wandered over your body and the glances he send you as you undressed. It made you feel beautiful and strong.

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Only a few days after Tommy talked about maybe going to work the same day. You looked at him a little sceptical because as you were getting dressed in his room he didn’t look like one that was getting out at bed. You kissed him goodbye and went into the office as you used to. Doing the day you saw both Arthur and John walk to and from Tommy’s office. You smiled and them and looked after them with a curious glance, but they just tipped their hat at you and disappeared out again. They hadn’t done that any of the other days where Tommy had been lying in bed, so you half expected Tommy to appear at some point of the day but he never came. You didn’t think more of it than you were looking forward to get up to the room and see him again as soon you were done working. You hadn’t really left the Shelby residence since the incidence. You had moved yourself from Tommy’s room to the office and back again.

So when you entered Tommy’s room after a long day and you found it empty, a knot instantly formed in your stomach. You went to search for him in the house but didn’t find him, or any of the brothers. In the dining room were Polly, Esme and Ada. They were surrounded by most of the Shelby kids. They looked to you as you stood in the door looking around.

“You looking for Tommy?” Ada said while having her toddler on her knee, bopping up and down her leg so that he was giggling hysterically. You nodded at her and Ada looked at Polly.

“He’s out. Didn’t he tell you?” She asked and you quickly shock your head. Out? Where did he go all of the sudden? As far as you knew he hadn’t left his room so he couldn’t have made any appointments. Polly sighed and motioned for you to sit down with the rest of the ladies.

“He couldn’t sit still for that long. I’m sure that if you weren’t here he would have been back in the office the moment he left the hospital.” She explained. You didn’t like the sound of that at old. The fact that he didn’t care much for his health like that was horrible, even though it was better after you came along.

“Don’t worry about him. John and Arthur went out with him. I’m sure it’s important if he leaves without saying anything to you. They will be back soon. They are always home to warm the bed at night.” Esme said with a smug smile and Ada made a face at her. John’s youngest daughter came up to you as you sat down. She handed you a teddy bear and you couldn’t stop smiling at her excitement to show off her toys. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to relax if you went up and waited for Tommy in his room. So you stayed with the ladies and the children and occupied yourself with playing with the oldest of the children.

It was dark outside as you stood in one of the children rooms. Esme had decided to stay in the residence instead of going home since the brothers hadn’t returned. The oldest of John’s children had been angry as she had a room for herself at home but she had to share a room with her sister in the common house. You watched as Esme tried to tug the girls in as you stood at the window, looking down on the dark street.

“You need to get some sleep y/n.” Whispered Esme as she had finally made the girls settle down. You put a hand on your shoulder to guide you out of the room and a shutter went through your body but you noticed that you didn’t have the sickening need to get away from her as you would have done not many weeks before. But you were still hyperaware. She bit you goodnight and went to her and John’s room. You were alone on the hallway and it looked incredibly longer when you were standing there only with a dim light from a single lightbulb in the middle of the hall. You sighed and walked down to Tommy’s room that you almost could call yours too since more and more of your clothing creeped their way into his drawers and you was rarely home at your own apartment.

You lay in bed for hours waiting for any sound of the brothers coming home. You couldn’t sleep without knowing he was home safe. When you finally heard a car pull up to the house you went to the window in your bare feet and watches as Arthur clapped Tommy on the shoulder and they were laughing together. John was speaking to Tommy when he looked up to the window you stood in and caught your eyes. He smiled up to you and held a hand up as a greeting. You waved back sweetly but you could feel that you were a little mad that he hadn’t told you were he went. What if something happened while he was still recovering?

“Hey gorgeous.” He said as soon he enters the room and took the cap off. You stood with your arms around yourself as you were only in a sleeping dress. He went over to you and dragged you into his arms and kissed you lovingly. You kissed him back but huffed at him as soon he let you go again.

“Where were you, Tommy? You are still supposed to take it easy!” You snapped at him, or at least you were sure you sounded at least a little angry.

“I had to get back to work eventually. I’m fine. I haven’t busted any stitches. You can have a look if you want to?” Without another warning Tommy started to shrug off his jacket and take of his clothing. You blushed hard under his gaze as he stripped down to only wear his trousers. He still had the bandages around his middle and there were no blood seeping thought. At least he took a little care of himself which made you almost as happy as the fact that he was standing half naked in front of you.

“Still in one piece.” He said proudly and spread out his arms for you to embrace him again.

“You didn’t come to the office.” You reminded him as you pressed your nose against the bottom of his chin.

“With good reasons. I was in Manchester.” He said. You tried to lean back so you could look at him with a sour face but Tommy held you tighter against him.

“With good reasons. You are going to like this. I promise.” Tommy finally unwrapped his arms around you and took your hands as he let you to the bed. He sat on the edge and you stood between his knees. He ran the backside of his hands along your curves. The motion making your knee long dress slip a little up, exposing some skin on your upper tights. It was like Tommy was transfixed on the little piece of skin.

“So what did you do exactly?” You put your hands on his shoulders and massaged them a little. He hummed and closed his eyes for a moment. But he still spoke.

“I made sure you got a meeting with Lady Isabella Finch. You are going to Manchester this Saturday. John agreed to drive you.” He opened his eyes and looked at you as you froze and stopped massaging his shoulders.

“I… I have a meeting? Without you?” You asked a little unsure how that would work.

“If there is anyone that can persuade her, it’s you. She adores you.” Tommy said with a charming smile.

“But Tommy you know that I can’t... speak with her.”

“She was very understanding last time we were there. I’m sure you will do fine. I trust you will get the deal done. You wanted to be included and I made it happen because I want to include you. I want you to work with me on this goal and went you come back to Birmingham with the deal in your hand, I want you to show it off at the next family meeting.” He held your gaze as you stood there dumbfounded. He believed so much in you that he practically placed the whole deal and Manchester adventure in your hands. You wanted to be included and he had giving you the whole responsibility. It was scary to think about but you were also very proud of yourself that you had made someone trust you so much that he would do something so big. It would give you a chance to get back at Mick King but also a chance for Tommy to relax a bit longer.

“I don’t know what to say.” You mumbled.

“Just say you will do it.” Tommy simply said and you bend down to kiss him. He grabbed you by the waist and tumbled you over to lie on the bed next to where he sat. He crawled over you and placed himself half on top of you as he started to attack your neck with small kisses.

“Everything for you, Tommy.” You moaned.

“Everything?” Tommy mumbled against you skin. You thought for a moment what that meant and what position you found yourself in. And for the first time since the rape you thought to yourself that you actually didn’t mind it. The way Tommy’s hands slowly worked their way up and down your body made you feel all warm inside and you couldn’t deny how beautiful you felt.

“Everything.” You repeated him and in one smooth motion he had laid you down on the bed, hovering over you. You both looked down to the space between the two of you. His middle still wrapped in the bandages.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He assured you and you nodded. But it was not the only thing you thought about while looking down. The thought of anyone coming near your abdomen was a little frightening but if there was any one you wanted it to be, it was Tommy. He would also understand your hesitation if you just spoke up about it. Your breath caught when Tommy started to leave sloppy open mouth kisses down your neck and when he reached your collarbone his fingers reached the bottom of your loose shirt and pulled it up. You let him remove it and tossed it to the side of the bed. The chill air hitting the bare skin of your stomach and arms. He let his hand run over your stomach as he started to work his way down your body with small kisses. You couldn’t help but moan and it was like it ignited something in him.

“Is it okay if I…” He started but you pulled him to you by his arm.

“Tommy I have to… I may not be completely… normal… down there. You know… I’m afraid you will be disappointed if I can’t…” You stammered through your explanation but he slowly lowered himself onto you.

“We don’t have to do this, if you can’t…

“No I want to. I just… I don’t feel like a whole woman anymore. So I just wanted to warn you if it isn’t… good.”

“Y/n. There is nothing about you that can ever disappoint me. You are the most amazing woman to me, whole or not. You are all I want.” Tommy was holding your gaze as he spoke and you were almost about to tear up when Tommy smiled at you awkwardly.

“Please don’t cry. I don’t want to be a fella that makes women cry in my bed.” You both laughed at the situation and you dried your eyes with the back of your hand, trying to calm yourself. Tommy let a thumb run over your cheek as he kissed you sweetly. You started kissing him back, really feeling his words in every movement between you.

You started to feel the growing tension between your legs and lifted yourself up against Tommy. You used the opportunity to slip off your skirt. Tommy took your face in his hands as you fidgeted with the buttons in his pants. When you finally got them up he tried his best to move out of them, without having to break the kiss. The awkward horizontal dance made you giggle against his lips. You could feel his smile as he tried to let his tongue slip between your lips. He swallowed your last giggle and you became a tangled mess of arm, legs and flying underwear.

He was hovering over you as you spread your legs for him. It was like the air around you became a little tense but Tommy was fighting it for you by giving you a mischievous smile. You felt his hand move down your side, over your hip and found its way between your legs. The brush against your inner tight made you jolt. It excited you more than it frightened you. Tommy looked you in the eyes as he was looking for accept and you nodded. His thumb brushed the sensitive knot and you gasped so loudly. It only encouraged him as he started rubbing circles on you. It felt much better than you could have ever imagined.

“Tommy.” You whimpered as he started to insert the first finger into you. He breathed in sharply as you closed your eyes and let your head fall back against the pillow. He started pumping into you and soon after added another finger. You had been so afraid that you wouldn’t be able to feel anything. That you would have been completely numb or worse; disturbed by the feeling of something against your clit. But Tommy knew what he was doing to you and he continued the motions and the sloppy kisses throughout your first orgasm in years.

“You look so beautiful.” Tommy murmured as you squirmed underneath him, riding out your high on his fingers. You felt beautiful under his gaze. He looked at you hungrily as he removed his fingers from within you. The sudden emptiness made you shoot your hips up against him in an attempt to take the pressure from you. You whimpered against his mouth.

“You are so impatient.” He mumbled and you just answered him with a little sigh. You reached up towards his lips again as he lifted himself a little. You needed him to touch you and to kiss you again. You felt it like a prickling all over your body.

“Tommy, I need…” You tried to explain but as you looked to him what was going on, you saw how he was pumping himself. You breathed in sharply and reached down to let your hands take over. The way he was twitching around under your touched made you even wetter for him and you were both a moaning mess as he lined himself up against you.

“Yes.” You whispered into his ear to the unspoken question you knew he was asking himself. You wanted it to happen. You needed it to happen so bad. He pressed against you and you held your breath as he slide inside slowly. You were surprised by the feeling of being filled out. You had been so afraid of this moment for so long that you had waited until now. But it felt right. It wasn’t painful and it wasn’t loose.

“You feel so perfect.” He confirmed to your unspoken thoughts. He held you close as he started moving. His head fell against your shoulder and he nipped at your skin. You wrapped your arms around him and as he moved you could feel the texture of his bandages scratch against your upper arms. You had never wanted someone as bad as you wanted Tommy. You wanted to do him right. You wanted to protect him as much as he protected you. You wanted him to stay in your arms. On top of you. Beside you. Inside you. The feeling of his skin against your felt like the most right think in the world.

Tommy sped up and your toes curled as a natural reaction and you dug your nails into his back. He was chasing something good with his wild motions and you met him halfway with every thrust.

“Tommy.” You moaned and he lifted his head to face you. The sweaty hair around his face. The slightly open mouth. He looked wild like an animal but still so beautiful. You let your hand sneak around his neck and guided his face down to yours. It was hard to kiss between both of your moans but you didn’t care. You could feel a shift in the way that he moved that it wouldn’t be long and the knot in your stomach told you that it would take you long either.

“Y/n… God I… ” He whispered your name against your lip and in the next moment you gasped for air as he placed a thumb back on you clit. He forcefully stroke it and you were sure your vision went black at the edges as you filled your lungs with air in a big gulp only to be able to whimper his name so loud that you were sure someone would have heard it. You contracted around him in pulsing movements and it was the last thing that made him become undone. He looked you in the eyes as he let out a roar. You could feel the heat deep inside you and you brushed away his wet hair from his face to look at him properly as he came down from his high.

His weight was a little heavy on you. You had slumbered down on top of you and his head was again buried in your neck. His warm breath tickling your skin. You wrapped your arms around him again and closed your eyes.

“Thank you.” You whispered and he immediately lifted his head.

“Thank you?” He repeated questioningly.

“I never thought I would be able to feel like this. Thank you for proving to me that I’m not worthless.” You said with a gentle smile.

“Don’t ever think about yourself that way.” He rolled to the side and finally pulled out of you. It was strange how fast you could get used to be filled up and you couldn’t wait to feel like that again. Now he pulled you half on top of him, making sure that you weren’t laying on top of his wound. He pulled the covers over the two of you and settled in. The peace that fell over you when you were lying in his arms at night was a safe space. Nothing could happen to you as long as you were in his arms and no creepy sounds could be heard over the sound of Tommy’s heavy breathing as he slept free of his own nightmares.

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@im-the-colourless-sunshine @fearthequeer595 @sununicorn @i-love-you-green @imnotsomewhore @imnotuglyimjustpredebut @hi-there-x @namiknows @imnotsomewhore @captivatedbycillianmurphy @irishgirl1995 @stalker83005 @stressedandbandobessed7771 @tuliptx @stydia-4-ever @ladymelissastark @yoheyyosup @calciferthelivingfire @actorinfluence @theamuz @affection-rabbit @jenepleurepasbaby @mango978 @csigeoblue @independentgirl @sweatydragoncloudknight @kiaoizz @rosedunne-shelby @greedysiren @adelinekam weebllespaces ldynblack @barnestann

Sorry but some of the tags doesn’t work!

#TOMMY #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby fan fic #tommy shelby fan fiction #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagines #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfiction #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #peaky blinders fan fiction #peaky blinder imagine #smut #cillian murphy

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tomorrowsdrama · 5 years ago

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Hyena Ep. 16

I’m baaack! Kind of. I think I hit that point in my quarantine life where I kind of lost my mind so I went on an unexpected hiatus that lasted longer than intended. I know it’s been over a month after the finale of Hyena but here are my ramblings. This post is super long so I’ll save my thoughts on the series as a whole for another post.

Objectively, it was a pretty good finale that was entertaining and wrapped up the important plot lines. We even got some sweet otp moments (more on that later) and satisfying smackdown of the bad guy. But subjectively? Personally? Purely based on my selfish expectations? I wanted more romance! More sexiness! I wasn’t expecting a wedding or anything like that but, not even one kiss? Or a long embrace? Why????

I mean, how can you give me all this sexy chemistry in the promos:

And then not make use of it in the finale? That’s just not fair I say! I feel bamboozled!

Ep. 16

Anyway, let’s talk about the parts I enjoyed of the finale. This is mainly (99%) going to be about the moments between Geum Ja and Hee Jae. So on the morning of episode 16, way back when, I woke up so excited for the finale. Since this was the last episode, surely there will be a kiss! And surely it would be epic given the chemistry between JJH and KHS. I mean did you see that kiss in episode 8? So when we started off the episode with the scene of Hee Jae telling Geum Ja he didn’t want to see her hurt anymore, I was amped. Yes, we’re starting off strong with the romantic scenes I thought.

How can you not fall for him?

Geum Ja, you are not a gangster, you do not need to show your story through the scars on your body. Joking aside, it’s sad that she’s been through so much in life that she has the scars to prove it.

I love that Hee Jae says this half-sarcastically but you can tell that he truly does not want Geum Ja to go through any more pain/suffering. And it’s his sincerity that makes Geum Ja smile so softly. And this is where they kiss right?

Nope, he gets a hearty bro punch in the shoulder.

Cut for lots of caps and ramblings. It’s a bit of a mini novel, you’ve been warned!

Mmm I loved how many scenes of concerned Hee Jae we got in this episode.

Geum Ja screams from a nightmare and Hee Jae immediately runs into the office to check on her. The only way he could have reacted so quickly is if he was sitting outside the office guarding Geum Ja which...AHHH I think I’ve just died and gone to hurt/comfort heaven. Just look at JJH’s face.

EEE! I audibly squealed when Geum Ja said this. Ok, now I’ve truly died. Geum Ja? Asking to be comforted? By Hee Jae? What? This is major. She’s finally letting down her walls a little bit around Hee Jae and allowing herself to be vulnerable. Keep on leaning I say! Lean all the way into bed.

Omg and then she showed concern over Hee Jae’s own emotional state despite her own trauma. His dad totally betrayed him just a few hours ago so Hee Jae’s having a pretty shitty day too. But of course, Hee Jae is only concerned about Geum Ja. Ahh, how many times is he going to make me swoon in this episode?

Feet piled on top of each other?! Are they finally in bed together?

Of course not. Unfortunately, this isn’t that type of drama. SIGH. But this is still very sweet and squeal-inducing.

Have I talked about how much I love JJH’s little sly smirks?

I love that these two fools can’t stop worrying about the other. Geum Ja knows better than anyone how deep emotional scars caused by a parent can be. On top of that, Hee Jae’s father was someone he respected and loved, so the blow is even bigger. I just really like it when my otp show how much they care about each other, ok?

Look at that smile on Hee Jae’s face. It’s like there’s no other place he would rather be than next to Geum Ja.

No, please don’t. Y’all are not 12. Please get at least a queen size bed with plenty of room for two adults to move around in and do...adult things lol.

And then. AND THEN! Geum Ja takes the initiative and turns over towards Hee Jae. She’s finally the one taking the first step towards him without any prodding. And Hee Jae smiles to himself and follows her lead to turn over also. And then the two fools smile lovingly at each other as they fall asleep. Omg, excuse me, I need a moment. I’ve temporarily passed on to the other side from sheer otp happiness.

This moment was just too good. I literally raised both my arms up into the air and cheered when I first watched this episode. I thought, wow the writers are feeding us so well. They’re showering us with so many romantic scenes. The otp caring for each other? Being tender with each other? Sharing a “bed?” I don’t want to ever get off this love train, keep it coming! This is only the first third of the episode so surely it can only go up from here.

And then it ended on a comedic note. I guess I should have seen that coming. This is SBS, not TVN (or JTBC from the looks of The World of the Married). Hah, well I suppose they both had a pretty tiring day so it’s understandable that they would not have much energy to do anything else.

It’s the little everyday things like asking if she’s ok that get me.

(JJH I thirst for you.)

Suuuuure you are.

Lol, he wouldn’t be Hee Jae if he didn’t pull something childish/petty. At least Geum Ja is amused by it and finds it cute now. Get you a man who can be both your emotional support and amusing bratty boyfriend.

Geum Ja does end up meeting Hee Jae for dinner and he can’t help but smile a little. Gosh, it takes so little from Geum Ja to make him happy.

(damn, look at that profile!)

So some time during this episode, Geum Ja’s adoptive father died off-screen from the stab wound he sustained while stopping her assailant. At first, I went “Huh, that’s it?” But then the more I thought about it, the more I liked how matter-of-factly it was treated. It’s certainly consistent with how Geum Ja deals with things. Also, she faced her demons/him in a previous episode so you could say that she already resolved that chapter of her life.

Still, you could tell that she’s not completely unaffected by it. KHS’s acting in this scene is so good. You can tell there’s more to it than what she’s saying just by the little subtle changes in her expression. I can only imagine the many complicated feelings she must be experiencing.

On the one hand, he’s the worst part of her past life and surely deserved to die. But on the other hand, unintentional or not, he died saving her. Geum Ja does not state this with any affection or sentimentality in her voice. It is merely something that happened. Thank goodness the writers did not try to redeem him in the last minute. One good deed does not make up for all the violence and abuse inflicted on her and her mother.

Anyway, all that muddled history and emotions would make anybody conflicted. They really handled it the best way they could - simply state what happened and move on. No hate, no praise, no sadness. He was a terrible man who paid the ultimate price and died. I like that Hee Jae understands not to push the matter any further and changes the subject.

Bro, you’re delusional if you think you still have a chance with her.

And then we get to the ubiquitous Big Shareholder Meeting that we see so often in dramas. I love how Geum Ja is so ballsy in everything she does and she does it all in her comfy tracksuits. Of course the Big Shareholder Meeting does not go as planned and Song Pil Jung gets arrested.

God I love the look on Geum Ja’s face. It screams “is this guy still talking to me?”

Can I just say, I love how utterly brutal Geum Ja is in her rejection of Kevin Jung. Woof, ouch. If I ever heard that from someone I liked, I would be so devastated and embarrassed, I’d find a dark hole to bury myself in and lick my wounds. But of course, Kevin, like all the other men who fall for Geum Ja, seems to be into it. It takes a certain type of man to go for Geum Ja and apparently that type is a total masochist who likes getting rejected and their heart ripped out. I mean, to each their own.

I like whenever they do their power couple strut.

A bro fist bump? Really? Hm, I never really fist bumped the guys I dated but that’s cool I guess. They’re going in to destroy Song Pil Jung so I guess a fist bump is appropriate.

Hm, I don’t know. It seems like you’re the one who got arrested.

Bro. Mister. Are you for real? Did you forget all the shitty things you did to her?

Yeah, that’s kind of a big deal I think.

SO. SATISFYING. Whew honey, this exchange gave me life. My skin has cleared, my bank account is full, and I’ve lost 5 pounds.

Yessss I am all for this nerdy JJH in glasses and turtleneck sipping on expensive instant coffee aesthetic.

The couple that taunts together, stays together?

Hahahahaha, Hee Jae talking about being professional at work? Hahahahha.

I live for jealous Hee Jae because he’s extra ridiculous whenever he’s jealous. In this scene he’s getting jealous over Ju-Ho calling Geuma Ja “noona” and it’s like come on, they’re foster siblings. Let him call her noona. Side note, Netflix translates “noona” into Eun-Young, Geum Ja’s real name, and it irks me. Couldn’t they have just translated it into “sis” instead?

Now we’re around the 55 minute mark and I’m thinking, okay this is probably where it’s going to end. This is when it’s going to happen. They don’t have that much time left in the episode. All right, give me us all that we’ve been waiting for.

(Good looking main stays looking good.)

You can’t ever accuse Hee Jae of not being committed to Geum Ja.

We finally get an explanation for why Geum Ja always stared at that huge building

Haha, can you expect anything less from her character? At this point, I’m looking at the remaining time and thinking, ok then, when’s that kiss gonna happen?

SHRIEKS WHAT ARE THOSE HIDEOUS THINGS ON HIS FEET?! On another note, I’m sure Kim Hye Soo must be so glad she doesn’t have to wear those gigantic heels anymore.

Omg, ok, this is it. We’re getting shots of beautiful sexy people strutting and being playful with each other. They’re setting up for a romantic ending kiss. Ok, time to prepare myself.

Yes, put your arms around each other. We’re getting closer now.

Oh, ok. I guess this will be a far away in the distance kind of kiss. That’s ok, too I guess.

Oh, wait. Never mind. Looks like we’re going to get a frontal view of the ending kiss after all. Even better!

What? That’s it? What? Did I miss something? This can’t be.

Oh whew. An epilogue. Ok, this is when it’s going to happen.

Hahaha, they’re totally using the vloggers to advertise for their law firm. I love how Hee Jae has loosened up on what he thinks a proper lawyer should act like and it’s reflected in his more flamboyant wardrobe choices.

These damn fist bumps again. All the time spent fist bumping could have been spent hugging and kissing. Priorities, people!

Hah, like hell Hee Jae would ever leave Geum Ja.

Haha knew it. Boy is more whipped than whipped cream.

This pretty much sums up their dynamic. SIGH I’m not going to get my kiss am I.

Oh no. That caption can only mean one thing.

Yeeep. That’s it. This is the end. Finito.

Well. All right then. You know, the first time I watched this episode, I felt very disappointed that there was no final kiss. I mean the last time we saw them kissing was in episode 8 at the midpoint of the drama. This drama was clearly a rom com/screwball comedy so it only seemed fitting that there would be one last kiss scene. That’s how you end a romantic drama! But alas.

Actually, upon re-watching and re-capping this episode, I realized that even though we did not get any kiss scene, the writers still gave us plenty of sweet moments between Hee Jae and Geum Ja. We got to see their lovely progression into becoming partners who supported and trusted each other so that was nice. Even though they’re clearly together now, it’s nice to see that they still have their playful bickering dynamic. So objectively, it was a nice ending. I just personally wanted more smooches.

If you made it through this entire post, thank you for expending so much time reading my ramblings and congratultaions on having so much patience!

#sbs hyena #hyena #ju ji hoon #kim hye soo #joo ji hoon #kdrama

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persephone-garnata · 4 years ago

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The Only Thing You Can Never Buy In Heaven

Just finished my first fanfic in more than two years!

Thank you, SPN finale :D

remembering this scene

It’s a wincest one-shot about our favourite co-dependent soulmates, with middlegame Sam/Eileen. It’s mostly canon-compliant, except for Miracle goes to Heaven too, and there’s the Samulet, because I love the Samulet.

Read it on AO3 here or below the cut:

The Only Thing You Can Never Buy In Heaven

Dean loved driving around in the Impala, Led Zeppelin blasting on the stereo – the sound much cleaner now, the acoustic guitar opening of Ramble On coming through as clear as a crisp spring day. Always his favorite song to drive to, along the endless highways of Heaven.

He visited with old friends – Bobby, obviously, his mom and dad, he went to the Roadhouse to catch up with Ellen, Jo, Ash and the rest. There were so many he knew who had died before him – hunters and civilians alike. But mostly, he just drove around – through countryside in all seasons, spring and summer and winter and fall, through mountains and deserts and cities and forests, along the shores of lakes and oceans. He stopped at countless roadside diners and ate countless plates of delicious food, without having to think about cholesterol once.

But there was always something missing – or rather, someone. Someone to tell him to think about cholesterol, even though he didn’t have to. Someone to sit shotgun, and keep him company on nights beneath the stars. He knew he wanted Sam to live a full life, to enjoy all those years he deserved – a career, a family, a house with a white picket fence. And after all, against the backdrop of eternity, what difference did a few decades make?

Enough difference, it turned out, to make him feel constantly like half of him was missing. Especially since there was one thing he couldn’t find, no matter how much he searched, no matter how many boxes he emptied out or pockets he rifled. You’d think that, in Heaven, you should be able to get hold of whatever the hell – or whatever the heaven – you wanted, but there seemed to be at least one exception to that. He found the replica and hung it from the rearview mirror, but it wasn’t the same.

‘Do you have idea where I can find my old necklace?’ he asked Bobby, one time when they were sitting on the porch together, drinking beers and shooting the breeze. Bobby gave him a slightly sad smile, and didn’t ask which one he meant. There could only be one.

‘Think Sam’s still got it,’ he said. ‘Back on Earth. You’ll just have to wait. Won’t seem like no time at all. Like I told you – he’ll be along.’

‘But –‘ Dean creased his brow - ‘Sam still has Baby, too, and yet there she is.’ He pointed at the car, sitting gleaming on the driveway. ‘And – I don’t know how this is supposed to work, I was never that good at all this stuff, but isn’t there loads of stuff in Heaven that’s on Earth too?’

‘Oh, you got that right,’ said Bobby. ‘There are exceptions to the rule, see? Cosmic special cases. And that necklace is one of them. Can’t be in two places at once.’

Dean took a long pull of his beer, thinking. ‘Can’t I make a new one?’ he asked. ‘Or – buy one?’

Bobby laughed at that. ‘Buy one? It ain’t something you can buy, boy. In fact, I figure it’s the only thing you can never buy in Heaven.’

‘I just – don’t feel right without it.’

Bobby turned his shrewd gaze on Dean. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘It feels like there’s half of you missing, doesn’t it?’

‘Well – yeah.’

‘That’s ‘cause there is half of you missing. That’s how soulmates work.’

Dean nearly choked on his beer, and Bobby had to slap him between the shoulder blades. ‘Oh, you didn’t think I didn’t know about the soulmates thing, did ya? The amount of time I spent with you boys – gimme some credit.’

‘I – well – we – I thought…’

‘You thought what? That soulmates aren’t supposed to be brothers? That incest would keep you out of Heaven? I think we both know that ain’t true.’

Dean sipped his beer in silence, not trusting himself to say anything at all. He’d always known – or at least suspected – that the link between him and Sam went deeper than any bond normal brothers, or lovers, or even brother-lovers, shared – but soul mates? He remembered what Ash had said to him at the Roadhouse-Heaven, all those years ago – about soulmates having shared Heavens, and had he expected that he and Sam would share their own little piece of eternity?

If he was honest with himself, he’d never thought he’d reach Heaven at all, after his years in Hell, and all the other things he’d done, and now that Jack had reconfigured things so that everyone could visit each other – well, that meant the soulmate rule no longer applied, surely? And yet – the feeling he always had, the ache like he’d lost half of himself – dammit, like half his soul was missing – that had to mean something. He’d wanted Sam to have his own life – had finally come to terms with the idea that they had horizons beyond hunting, and that his baby brother might want to explore those horizons without him – and yet now – there was only one thing he could think about.

He had finished his beer, and was on the verge of getting up to get back behind the wheel (no issues with drink-driving in the Great Beyond) and go for a long drive with only Led Zeppelin for company. Perhaps he’d even see if he could go and visit John Bonham, and some of the other rock stars who’d reached the top of that Stairway a long time ago. Then something burst out of the bushes and came running up to the porch – a shaggy dog, woofing in delight and licking his hands.

‘Hey, Miracle!’ said Dean, petting his head. ‘You’re a good boy, arentcha, a good boy…’ his voice trailed off as he thought about something. ‘Wait, if you’re here, does that mean…?’

‘All dogs go to Heaven,’ said Bobby, and lifted his beer bottle. ‘Guess he ain’t on Earth no more.’

‘Wow,’ said Dean, his hands pausing in Miracle’s long fur until the dog nudged him to make him continue petting. ‘Did Sammy look after you? Did he give you a long and happy life?’

Miracle just barked enthusiastically, which Dean took as a Yes. He buried his face in the dog’s fur and felt, for a little while, just a little bit closer to Sam.

***

It took Sam a long time to accept that his brother was really gone. The bunker felt so empty, all the time, and as the hunts gradually dried up, he decided he needed to move out. The echoing underground spaces just felt haunted – not by Dean, Sam could have coped with a ghostly brother – but by his absence. He caught himself, several times, eyeing up a gun, or a bottle of sleeping pills, or a coil of rope, or a knife, and wondering how long it would take for him to be reunited with Dean. And he had to admit that, if it hadn’t been for Miracle, he probably would have gone through with it. The dog just kept demanding to be fed, and to be taken out for runs, and to be petted. He never gave up on Sam, so Sam couldn’t give up on himself.

Finally – on the day he got the call about the werewolf hunt – he resolved to leave the Bunker behind him. He knew that, once he turned the light out and closed the door behind him, he’d never be back again. So he packed up the trunk of the Impala with three boxes of possessions: one for himself, one for Miracle, and one for Dean. The last box was full of memories – shirts which still held a lingering scent of Dean, his old leather jacket, his watch, his most beloved vinyl records, his favorite weapons, a few photographs – and his necklace – the one with the amulet.

Sam had kept that necklace in his pocket for so long it had almost become a part of him, but he’d always thought of it as a part of Dean. Now, he lifted it up to the light inside the bunker, looked at that inscrutable face, and felt a powerful tug inside him – a tug of both sadness, and hope. He put the necklace inside the box with the rest, and for the first time since Dean had died, thought that maybe, just maybe, things might turn out right.

That werewolf hunt turned out to be his last hunt for a while. Sam drifted around, sleeping in whatever dog-friendly motels he could find, or on the back seat of the Impala when he couldn’t find one. He scoured the local news and the internet, looking for more cases, trying to throw himself back into the job. Yet it seemed that the monsters were thinner on the ground now, and soon Sam realized his heart wasn’t in it any more – the family business just wasn’t the same without the family.

He toured around for some time, checking in with old friends. He saw Jody and Donna and Clare and Alex. He saw Charlie and her girlfriend. He saw Jesse and Cesar. He saw Garth and his family – little Sam and Castiel were growing well. No Dean though – his absence was a constant pain, like the ache in a missing limb, and Sam felt it even more acutely when he saw other people’s happiness.

He kept seeking people out, further and further flung branches of the extended Winchester hunting family. He tracked down Lisa’s son Ben Braeden, now twenty-one and studying medicine, and looking just a little bit like Dean at the same age. He even reconnected with Amelia, now living happily with her husband Don and their two young children – and a big shaggy dog. He really regretted that particular foray into his own past – it just made him feel miserable, and as he drove away from their picture-perfect house, if it hadn’t been for Miracle on the back seat, he’d have probably driven the Impala straight off a bridge into the nearest canyon.

Finally, he worked his way back to Jody Mills, and as he sat in her house late at night, drinking her wine and eating her potato chips, Miracle gnawing a bone at his feet, she said something to him.

‘You know you need to see her at some point, Sam,’

He didn’t need to ask who she meant.

‘It’s – not that easy,’ he said.

‘Isn’t it? You know she cares about you, and I think you care about her.’

Sam sighed. ‘I do,’ he said. ‘I really do. But – me and Dean –‘

‘You had something special,’ Jody filled in for him. ‘She knows that too.’

Sam sighed again. ‘Something special’ was one way to describe what he and Dean had shared, he supposed, but how could he ever really convey the true depth of their relationship? How could he possibly tell someone – anyone – the way he and Dean had lived together, hunted together, slept together (and yes, they had slept together, but almost more significant was the way they had always huddled together for warmth and protection, neither of them ever able to sleep properly without the other). How they had been everything to each other – more than brothers, more than lovers, more than anything?

He looked up, and saw that Jody was smiling at him.

‘And I’m sure she knows how you feel without him. If you’re worried what she’ll think of you – don’t. Most hunters – we got something, some pain, we carry with us.’

‘We’re all damaged goods,’ said Sam, and finished the rest of the glass of wine with one big gulp.

‘What’s damaged can be mended, if you’ll only let someone try,’ said Jody, and took the empty glass from him.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Sam, and got his phone out right then to send a message to Eileen, before the courage could leave him.

They arranged to meet for brunch at a trendy vegan hipster café (which also accepted dogs) in New York City, where Eileen had settled now. Sam remembered how Dean had never wanted to drive the Impala into Manhattan, so he left Baby at a big parking lot in a commuter town and rode the train into town, Miracle on the seat next to him. And he remembered how his brother had always hated these trendy cafes with their avocado toast and their artisan coffees and their stupid plant milks. Meeting Eileen at a place like this felt like moving on – which felt both fresh and good and right, and gave Sam an aching feeling of guilt.

The café was noisy with both music and chatter – Sam felt glad that he’d spent a long time practising his signing beforehand, so that he and Eileen could have a silent conversation in the middle of the hubbub. They sat on a half-collapsed sofa, twisted sideways to face each other, while they drank their almond-milk lattes and ate their sourdough toast, topped with scrambled tofu, wilted spinach, and a sprinkle of dukkah. Delicious, and not a nitrate in sight. Dean would have hated this place.

After exchanging a few stilted words of standard greetings, Eileen asked Sam to describe what happened on his and Dean’s final hunt. He did his best to describe everything to her – and found that having to do so with his hands really helped, because he didn’t have to worry about his voice cracking. Then she asked him what he’d been doing since, and he told her that too – along with an apology for not contacting her sooner.

‘It’s okay,’ she signed. Then she asked him the killer question: ‘And how are you coping without him?’

How was he coping without him? ‘Not well,’ he signed. ‘If it hadn’t been for Miracle here – I think I wouldn’t have made it this far, to be honest with you.’ He pulled a face. It was the closest he’d yet come to admitting to anyone just how close he’d come to ending his own life, stretching out ahead of him like an endless highway, with nobody sitting by his side.

‘I’m glad you’ve made it this far,’ Eileen signed back. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

There was an awkward pause. Sam drained his coffee and then petted Miracle, just for something to do with hands.

‘So – what happens now?’ Eileen signed to him.

‘I think – you-’ Sam stopped, waved his hands in a clearing-away gesture, and started again. ‘I would like you to be a part of my life,’ he signed. ‘If you want to. However you want to.’

Eileen nodded, thoughtfully. Sam knew a moment of pure panic – what if she was going to tell him to get lost, that she’d already found somebody else and wanted nothing to do with him ever again? And that moment of panic told him that actually, no matter how close to the edge of despair he’d gotten over these last months, he did want something more out of life – he wanted Eileen beside him.

‘I would like to be a part of your life,’ she signed, eventually. ‘If you’ll let me in.’

‘I will try my best,’ Sam signed back to her. ‘But – you should know – me and Dean – we were much closer than most brothers. Without him – it’s difficult for me.’

‘I understand,’ she signed. ‘And I don’t mind.’

‘Really?’ Sam accompanied the sign with a pleading look – the kind of look Dean had always called his ‘puppy-dog eyes’.

‘Really. I like you, Sam. I like you a lot. You’re a good man. And if you’ve got baggage – well, I have trust issues myself. We can take things slowly, and I understand if you need time for yourself, sometimes. And maybe I’ll need some time for myself, too.’

‘Thank you,’ signed Sam, and meant it.

Eileen sighed then, and looked away, briefly, before turning back to him.

‘I want you to be honest with me, Sam,’ she signed.

‘Of course,’ he replied, although his heart sank at what she might ask him. Being close to a dead brother was one thing – actual Game of Thrones, Flowers in the Attic incest was another.

She didn’t ask him about the incest. Or at least not in a sexual way. That would almost have been preferable to what she did ask him.

‘Do you think you and Dean were – or are – soulmates?’

Sam blinked a few times, and had to ask her to repeat the question. She did, even saying that word ‘soulmates’ out loud for his benefit.

Well, he’d promised to be honest with her. ‘Yes,’ he signed. She just nodded.

‘I thought so,’ she signed.

‘Is that – a problem?’ he asked. ‘Do you – not want to be in life now?’

‘It’s okay,’ she signed. ‘Thank you for being honest.’

‘Is it really okay? Being with me, knowing I’m soulmates with – somebody else?’

‘Most people never meet their soulmates, or never have one in the first place. I’d rather be with you, knowing you’ve told me the truth, than somebody I don’t know if I can trust.’

Sam nodded, slowly. It made sense. Sort of. To be sitting here, with Eileen, talking about his dead soulmate.

‘Shall I get us some more coffees?’ Eileen asked him.

‘Please.’

***

He and Eileen did take things slowly, at first. Then it felt like they accelerated their life together. After Miracle died – the dog had already been old when he and Dean had found him – it felt like the last thing tying Sam to his old life had gone.

As he hugged the old dog to him in the vet’s office, he whispered to him: ‘You’re a good boy, Miracle. You go straight to Dean now, tell him I’ll be all right.’ Miracle just nuzzled Sam a little, and Sam felt the simple love in that gesture, hoped he could take the message to Dean.

He sat in the front seat – the shotgun seat – of the Impala for a long time after that, crying his eyes out. And yet, he no longer wanted to drive off a cliff. He wanted to stay alive, for at least a little longer. He messaged Eileen, and started driving before she’d even answered him.

When he turned up on her doorstep, she saw the absence beside him, and invited him in without a word.

Shortly after that, they got a house together, in upstate New York, parked the Impala in the garage, under a dust sheet, and started their new life. They got married, in a very low-key ceremony, only a few people – their old hunting buddies – present. Eileen got a job in computing – helping to design and test user interfaces to be suitable for the hard-of-hearing. And, while she didn’t say anything to him directly. Sam realized that, if they were going to settle down properly, he should really get himself an actual job. He hadn’t been a hunter for some time – he’d stopped without even realizing it. So he finished his legal training, and finally qualified as an attorney. It felt weird to be doing a ‘normal’ white-collar job at last, but he consoled himself with the thought that, with all the pro-bono work he did, he was still saving people – and hunting things, in a different way.

A few years later, although Sam had never really seen himself as a father – Dean was the one with the strong paternal instincts - they had a child. When they came to thinking of a name, Sam was filled with all sorts of suggestions – but Eileen shook her head, and signed at him ‘How about Dean?’

And Sam didn’t like that idea at first – it felt too much like revisiting the past he’d tried to leave behind – but the more he thought about it, the more he found he couldn’t think of his little baby boy as anything other than Dean. So Dean it was, and would ever be. He had another Dean in his life now, and he gave his son all the love he had.

He never forgot the other Dean – how could he? – but gradually, over the years, he accepted that he had other people in his life now, who were more important to him than his dead brother. At least for now, and now was the only time that really mattered. He got the Impala out very occasionally – one Halloween he even sat behind the wheel wearing his costume of an old Grandpa, complete with cheap grey wig.

Eileen and he rarely spoke about the car, or the old Dean. His life before her, and their son, became something packed away in a box that he only rarely got out looked at – like the amulet he still kept, tucked away, and occasionally took out. Whenever he did so, he admired the golden gleam of the metal, still untarnished after all these years, and let himself fill up with all the aching sadness that was normally stoppered up.

***

Time worked differently in Heaven. Dean knew that. It took him a while to get used to though – however long ‘a while’ was here. He kept expecting things to change faster than they did, or for people – and Miracle – to age and wither away. It was an adjustment to realize, gradually, that here things just went on and on – unless you changed them yourself. And Dean didn’t really want anything to change, not really. He wanted everything to go on as it was, until –

Until Sam arrived. Dean accepted that he shouldn’t wish his brother would hurry up and get there – they’d have eternity together, after all, and wanting eternity to start sooner made no sense. Not when he’d told Sam to live on without him. He wanted Sam to live a full life, to hook up properly with Eileen at last, get a job, wear some dorky sweaters, even have a kid or two. Enjoy all the apple-pie-and-picket-fence stuff that he, Sam, had always wanted, and he, Dean, didn’t.

Did he? Hadn’t part of him always enjoyed cooking for his little brother, taking care of him? Hadn’t part of him longed for Ben to be his son? Hadn’t part of him wanted to settle down and have a family?

Well, in Heaven, all things were possible. He could find somebody else – like Rufus had Aretha – and have a new life, for a while at least. However long ‘a while’ was, here. He didn’t know how to start finding someone, though, or who that someone would even be. Whenever he tried to imagine sharing his afterlife with anyone, only one person ever sprang to mind.

And then. One day – one moment – when he was standing on the bridge, enjoying the view over river and the forests, Miracle by his side. He felt, without being able to say how he felt it, that his brother was here. At last. Or – time worked differently here. Maybe not at last. Maybe he was right on time.

Eternity had to start sometime, and Dean guessed it was starting now. He smiled.

‘Hey Sammy,’

He turned around. And there he was, exactly as he remembered him. After however many years it had been for him on Earth. Sam looked a little tired – as if the last few months of his life had been a lot to bear. And – almost shy, almost as if he was worried Dean wouldn’t want to see him any more, that he might somehow have moved on, in the time before he arrived in Heaven. Well, for better or worse, he hadn’t.

‘Dean,’ said Sam, and met his eyes, and smiled.

They embraced, Miracle rubbing himself against both of their legs at once. As they did so, Dean felt something hot pressed against him, and when the drew apart again, he saw a light glowing from Sam’s pocket.

‘Is that…?’

Sam dipped his hand inside his pocket, and pulled out the necklace. The amulet. The only thing you can never buy in Heaven. It was glowing, as it had done in the presence of God, except now –

‘I think that means,’ Dean started to say, but then Sam cut him off.

‘I know,’ he said, and lifted the necklace to put it around Dean’s neck again. Dean ducked his head without even thinking, and felt the weight of the amulet fall into place once more. Once more – and forever. And finally, he felt whole again. He had been reunited with the other half of his soul, and he was now complete. And he always would be.

Sam and Dean leaned together against the parapet of the bridge, and knew they had eternity to explore all the vistas of Heaven. Together.

#wincest #forever wincest fest

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thedasdrabbles · 4 years ago

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Slices of Life - Modern AU Thedas Valentines

He didn’t go all out for every holiday. Some didn’t have the same feel behind them, the same groove. Valentine’s Day was one where he put a little extra in, though -- in part because at first he hadn’t thought his lover would expect it and now because he liked to keep the expectations high and the anticipation just on the edge of heart pounding and breathless. He’d left a card tacked to the door for his lover to find when he made it home, a trail of flower petals starting in the foyer and leading up the stairs. The hall was dark save for the gently flickering glow of tiny LED candles that he’d left along the stairs, lighting the way for Ferion to follow.

The trail led to their bathroom where there was another card, its contents brief and naughty with a post-script that contained promises of more scandalously wicked to come.

Get cleaned up, get comfortable and come find the rest of your present whenever you’re ready. - Bull

Alongside the card atop a neatly folded towel was a fresh bar of Ferion’s favorite soap, a new container of the scrub he had mentioned enjoying the last time Bull had brought it home, a small, unopened bottle of lube and a plug, weighted nicely with a heart-shaped flare. It was easily enough to imagine what the rest of his ‘present’ might be from there.... The rest of the night was going to be good. Bull would make sure that he’d get it nice and hard to counter all of the soft. He always did, and each Valentines Day they spent together made it seem like he always would.

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Rylen didn’t do romance, at least that was what he always said. He had other ways of letting Cullen know that he loved him throughout the year and early on in their relationship they’d come to terms with the fact that Valentine’s Day wasn’t really for them. It meant that neither of them took issue with the fact that as part of his work rotations his travels typically had him out of town over that holiday; something that he was more than alright with as it meant he was back for the ones that meant more to them.

It didn’t mean that he spent Valentines alone, however. Why waste a perfectly good night centered around fine dining, fine wine and lingerie alone when he could spend it in the company of Miranda…

He’d promised to keep his eyes closed after dinner -- a dinner they’d had delivered to his room rather than eating out this time, neither one of them of a mood to deal with the typical crowds drawn to high-end restaurants even if they could have worked a private dining room into their expenditure budget. She’d talked him into wearing a tie that night and he was painfully aware of its closeness, each draw of breath making him all the more aware of it along with the knowledge that he could hear her moving around, breath catching when he caught a trace of her perfume drifting closer.

When he felt her fingers tug at the tie to loosen it he almost opened his eyes, knowing with the way she had to have leaned in he would have gotten a glorious eyeful of the tops of her breasts spilling over whatever she was wearing -- either the dress she’d donned for dinner or whatever she had on beneath it. He closed them tighter, though, knowing she hadn’t yet told him he could peek yet and the resulting laughter, sultry and sweet like honey was entirely worth it just like the rest of the night would be…

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The kitchen was filled with laughter, music lightly floating through the background. Her sides were starting to ache but it felt so good that she didn’t care. Eli leaned back into Cullen’s arms, cheeks rosy and warm as she tipped her head to rest against his shoulder, peering up to him. She couldn’t remember ever being with anyone who’d made her feel this way before -- so light, so loved. It must have shown in her eyes as they met his because she only had a second to process the desire that shifted through his amber eyes before he was kissing her breathless.

With a soft gasp followed by a low moan she turned, slipping her arms around his neck. Before she knew it his hands were on her hips, lifting her to set her on the counter. He seemed to take a second to breathe, the briefest of pauses to make sure she was alright and that there was no trace of protest before he was kissing her again. If kissing Rylen was like drowning in desire, kissing Eli was like a rush of spring air, warm and gently demanding in the most wonderful of ways. He couldn’t imagine his life without either of them, but he was so grateful for moments like this, that he could have moments like this.

Cullen drew back slowly, touching his nose to hers, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth only to lean back, smiling. His smile brought the light of the sun to his face, warm and just a bit sheepish. “This isn’t going to get the rest of dinner put away.”

“Says the man who put me up here,” she laughed, closing her eyes in an attempt to find her breath, always amazed by how easily he could take it away. From the den she heard a woof which drew another soft, breathless laugh. “See… Sari agrees with me.”

“Traitor…” He muttered beneath his breath, acting cross for the briefest of moments before kissing her again. They’d get back to the leftovers sooner or later… Probably later…

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“We’re going to miss our reservations.” He’d made plans this year, just as he tried to make plans every year. For Garret Hawke plans were often things to be shuffled around or rescheduled, especially when they involved plans with Anders. The medic had gotten much better over the years, started taking better care of himself, dropped a few bad habits and picked up a handful of others that were less detrimental to their relationship. It wasn’t always easy, but they’d made things work after a fair amount of growth and work between them.

“We’re not going to miss our reservations. They’re not for another hour and a half, Hawke -- that’s more than enough time for me to finish getting dressed, make sure Liberty and Barkus have had their Valentine’s treats and be on our way.” His lips pursed together into a pout as he looked over to the other man after pulling his shirt down over his head, taking the time to smooth wrinkles that weren’t there out of it. He loved Garret desperately and it had taken him more time than it should have to come to terms with that, even longer to come to terms with the idea that he could be loved that fiercely in return. Spending a day with him meant everything… Spending this day with him meant more.

“We are going to miss our reservations if you keep looking at me like that while looking like that, though.” Hawke grinned as he stepped up, slipping an arm around Anders’ middle as he planted a kiss on the corner of the other man’s mouth. “Check your hair once or twice more, like I know you’re going to do, grab that necklace you’ve changed your mind on twice… This shirt is fine. It was fine the last time you put it on before you tried something else and it will go well with that coat that you love that you swear doesn’t match the jeans you have on, but it does. I’ll feed your cat and Barkus and then we’ll be on our way. Dinner and a movie. Normal Valentines. Promise.”

“Normal?” His heart swelled as he looked at Hawke, reaching up to rest a hand alongside the other man’s face. He leaned in to brush a soft kiss to the other man’s lips, his expression radiating all of the love and affection he had found a hard time giving voice to for so long. “Nothing about being with you is normal, Hawke… And that’s part of what I love about it. About you. About us...”

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He approached the tub with two glasses of wine, holding one out to his lover and waiting for him to take it before reaching down to trail his fingers through the water. It was warm enough that it would feel wonderful, the steam already reminding him that Ryn’s next business trip would take them somewhere away from the snow that had fallen outside. They’d stayed in that night, not wanting to get caught out if it came back with a vengeance -- an excuse on his part, really. In truth, he’d just wanted Ryn to himself.

He set his glass down on the edge of the tub as he stepped up and into the water, seeming entirely satisfied as he sank down into it opposite the other man. He nudged his lover’s hip with his foot as he leaned back, retrieving his glass to take a sip. “This? This is the life, amatus. Warm, comfortable, quiet dinner at home, wine… You.” His smile was warm, eyes only for the man sitting across from him. He’d known that Ryn was the type of man he could easily find himself falling for almost from the start but he hadn’t expected them to be so good together, so good for each other.

He took another sip of his wine, easing back again and closing his eyes. It was a moment before he heard the soft clink of a glass being set down across from him, the shift of water moving around him as Ryn leaned forward, kneeling between his knees. He opened his eyes in time to see the other man leaning in, following his lover’s movement as he plucked the glass from his fingers and set it down as well. When he felt Ryn’s lips press against his he pressed back, fingers sliding into the other man’s hair to draw him down closer. Ryn was the best part of this, the best part of everything. Ryn made their house home, made wherever they went when he traveled somewhere that he wanted to be.

Dorian often thought that Ryn was a better man than him, had thought at first that Ryn might be too good for him -- too good to be true. They’d unearthed flaws, grown and evolved and now they were so good together. Their romance was the kind meant for lifetimes, not just for a single day, and he intended to make sure that Ryn knew that in every way.

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“Tethras Investigations.” He’d kicked back in his chair, heels on the corner of his desk, the pages for the novel he’d been working on tucked into folders on the opposite side. He had a deadline to meet, but deadlines could wait. Deadlines meant little when it came to spending Valentines with the light of his life, especially when it came to having the opportunity to dress up while doing so.

He reached up to tip his at up just enough that he could get a good look at her as she came in the door. For a second he lost character -- more than a second, honestly. It was going to take a beat or two for him to pick his jaw up off of the floor. “Shit, Gadget, you didn’t tell me you were going that far out. If I’d’ve known I would’ve done more than just put together some things from my closet…” He caught himself as she clicked her tongue to chastise him, clearing his throat in an attempt to find his character again. “What can I do for you, doll?”

His eyes followed her as she sashayed towards his desk, the glamor of the vintage fashion suiting her far better than he would have expected. He didn’t know why he hadn’t expected that, really, given how good she looked in just about everything she put on. If the Renaissance Festival had been any proof of that, well…

“I’ve heard you’re good at what you do, possibly the best.” She made her way around to his desk, nudging his feet down off of the corner so she could take a seat on the edge of it. Grinning, Lani leaned back on one hand, resting a foot on the chair between his thighs. “Tell me, Mr Tethras… Are you the best?”

She was going to be the death of him, the absolute utter death of him. He cracked again, for a shorter spell this time, recovering by holding her gaze as he rested his hand on her calf as he leaned in to brush his lips to her knee. “That all depends, ma’am, on what you’ve heard I’m the best at… Why don’t you let me know and we’ll go from there? All I’ll say up front is that I never leave a job unfinished or a dame unsatisfied.” That was enough to trip her up, his knack for witty dialogue and bad one-liners finally coming through. The resulting laughter was well worth it.

Shit, everything with her was worth it. She’d done so much for him in the time they’d known one another, drawing him out of a bottle he hadn’t known he’d been hiding him and introducing him to some of the most beautiful parts of life. Whatever he’d done, however he’d managed to get this lucky, Varric knew he’d never be able to top convincing Lanira to be his wife.

#DragonAgeInquisition #DragonAgeAU #Lavellan #CullenRutherford #KnightCaptainRylen #VarricTethras #DorianPavus #TheIronBull #EliandFerionandRynLavellan #ValentinesDrabbles

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coffeestainsandcashmere · 4 years ago

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‘All that’s best of dark and bright’ - a Draco x Hermione x Theo story - Chapter Three

For anyone reading on Tumblr and not on Ao3, here’s Chapter Three. Thank you so much to everyone who commented on Ao3 - you made my entire life with this. My venomous tentacular is fed and watered, and my creative patronus charm is nourished.

Chapter One here: Tumblr | Ao3

Chapter Two here: Tumblr | Ao3

“Right you are,” Hagrid beamed, shuffling a little bit on the spot. As he looked down at her, she realised that he was wearing the same, achingly worried expression he had when they’d all shown up that night with Ron hurling slugs and Hermione in tears. Somehow remembering that almost made her smile. “You, uh, want somethin’ to drink? Pumpkin juice? Tea maybe?”

Automatically, she shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you, Hagrid.” You’re not being a bother, and he asked you, she scowled silently. You’re allowed to ask for things you’d like. “No, actually, a cup of tea would be lovely, if you’ve got the kettle on.”

“You know me, Hermione,” Hagrid chuckled, obviously glad for something practical to do. “Kettle’s always on ’ere.”

Hermione smiled and watched the enormous man bumble back inside his modest, stone hut, and inhaled deeply. The air was cool and damp here on the edge of the forest, sheltered from the prevailing winds, and it carried with it the eerie, haunting croon of thestrals and the other creatures that lived in the forest, accompanied all the while by the soft susurrations of the breeze through the pine trees. If she strained her imagination hard enough, she could pretend to hear the swish of Buckbeak’s wings, or the hoarse croaks of young baby Norbert. A faint waft of cold smoke coiled up from the empty ashes in the fire pit, and the green scent of earth filled her mind for a long moment, stilling it for the first time in weeks. If anywhere felt like home now, it was probably here.

Alone for a little while, except for Fang, Hermione sank down onto a log and then, just because she felt like it, she lay down along its length and crossed her ankles. The wood formed a cool pressure right along her body, grounding her, and she sighed, hair splayed out beneath her head in a wild riot of curls.

Fang immediately plonked himself down on the ground beside her, the old dog leaning against the log as if it needed him to buttress it up, and she hooked her arm affectionately around his thick neck. “You’re like a giant teddy bear,” she chuckled as he tipped his head in her direction and tried to lick her face. Mercifully, he was just out of range. “An incredibly slobbery giant teddy bear, I’ll grant you, but still.” She was glad that, despite everything, Fang had made it through the war. He felt as much a part of this place as Hagrid did.

“So how’s things?” Hagrid asked as he emerged once again, the strong, milky contents of two giant mugs slopping slightly over the edge as he jostled with the door. He put one down on the log next to her to cool a little, and then eased himself down onto a log opposite her.

It groaned ominously, but held.

“Busy,” she said honestly and he chortled a big, rumbling laugh, belly shaking.

“Yer always busy, Hermione!” he said, still chuckling fondly. “I’d be worried if yeh weren’t. But how’s things without Ron and Harry? Yer not lonely, are yeh? And how are they getting on?”

She sucked the insides of her cheeks suddenly to keep from crying, emotions swelling inside her again as if under an engorgio charm. “I suppose they’re busy as well,” she said carefully, but her voice still trembled.

Fang nosed at her hand and licked her fingers gently.

“You ‘suppose’?” Hagrid asked, the quiet promise of thunder in his gentle voice.

With a heavy sigh she draped her free arm back over her head, enjoying the languorous stretch and feeling a bit like Crookshanks in his favourite sunny spot back at The Burrow. “I thought… I thought it would be alright without them,” she began. “And it is, for the most part, honestly. But… you know they’re both doing grown-up things like Auror training and earning a living already - Ron’s working in George’s shop in Diagon Alley - and meanwhile I’m… well, I’m still at school, Hagrid. It’s no wonder they haven’t bothered to write to me. They’re probably both too busy being important.”

“Oh Hermione,” he crooned gently, that thunderously protective edge still lurking in his voice, “Don’t talk like that. Yer bloody brilliant, you are. Yer gonna get the best marks anyone has ever seen at Hogwarts - better ‘an Dumbledore and McGonagall put together - and then yer gonna go on to do wonderful things when you leave here. It ain’t a rush and it ain’t a competition.”

Despite the fact that she laughed at his earnest, honest words, tears suddenly spilled from the corners of her eyes and disappeared into her wild hair as she lay there on her back. Fang shuffled himself around and tried to lick them off, but she really did draw the line at that and gently pushed his muzzle away before he could smear his hot tongue and vile slobber over her face.

“Thanks, Fang,” she said gently, knowing that the dog was emotionally intelligent, if maybe not quite so intellectually. “I’m just… I just… I feel so alone, Hagrid. I’ve got Ginny, of course, and Neville and a few others, but no one else has been through everything that we did - not the way that Harry and Ron and I did - and I feel like no one else… understands that. Ginny does, to an extent, but she was still sheltered for some of it.”

Always running; setting up the wards and constantly jumping at every last noise; foul, out of the way places to call ‘home’ for a few nights; exhaustion; fear bordering on mania; bickering; tempers fraying; desperation; isolation; helplessness; pain; the agony of loss again and again…

She stroked Fang’s smoke-soft coat for a bit, fingers skimming the silvery fur, and eventually began to feel a bit better for the contact. Hagrid didn’t speak and she loved him for his quiet patience.

After a while, she added, “Don’t get me wrong, Hagrid, I’m glad no one else had to go through it all, but… Sometimes I feel like the only person here at Hogwarts who has been through as much is… well… is Draco Malfoy, so you can imagine my sentiments about that.” But… what were her sentiments about that, exactly? She found that she didn’t like to dwell on it, actually, since examining it only seemed to muddy the waters.

Hagrid was quiet for a just moment longer before he said quietly, “He came to see me on the first day of term, you know?”

At that world-tilting revelation, she looked over at him sharply. “What?” she barked.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his beard and taking a huge gulp of tea. “Can’t say I was too happy to see him, o’course, but… before I could set Fang on him, he just apologised. Stood there with his hands in his pockets and said he was sorry for… for Buckbeak, and for my house getting burned, and everything. Said he knew he couldn’t make it right, but he wanted to clear the air a bit.”

“What did you tell him?” she asked faintly.

“I told him that if he really meant it, then… well… I’m no acromantula; I won’t hold a grudge forever. But if he’s really sorry for everything - an’ I mean everything - then he’ll start to do some good with that name of his, instead of bad.”

She snorted and looked back up at the sky. A patch of blue in the shape of a Welsh Green dragon had opened up above her and was drifting lazily overhead towards the Forbidden Forest. She watched it as she said, “Can’t imagine he took that very well.”

“Actually, he just nodded and said ‘yeah’ before walking back off to the castle on his own. I had to have a whole mug full of firewhisky just to settle myself down afterwards,” he snorted. She didn’t blame him. She’d felt like she needed a whole bottle of the stuff after Malfoy had apologised to her in Potions, and that had been over something fairly inconsequential. “He looks awful. Like someone took all the starch out of him, Hermione. Like he’s got nothing left no more.”

She sighed and found herself nodding in agreement. “It’s like I keep seeing two Malfoys, Hagrid. There’s the snotty little pureblood boy from first year who was just awful and defensive and volatile, always seeking approval and validation… and then there’s this haunted young man with all the weight of grief and guilt on his shoulders, and… I don’t know how to reconcile the two. Or if I even need to. Or if I should!” She cringed, realising how shrill her voice had grown, and Fang whined softly. “Sometimes I really think he’s changed and he’ll surprise me - like today, when he made a flippant comment and it took me completely off guard. Then he apologised afterwards and I nearly passed out. I couldn't believe that Draco Malfoy was apologising to me - especially for something so petty!”

“Imagine how I felt,” Hagrid said wryly.

Another sigh rolled out of her but before she had time to say any more about Malfoy’s cruelly snapped comments and acrid personality, footsteps on the gravel path leading down to the pumpkin patch drew their attention. Fang didn’t budge from her side, but he gave a low, warm ‘woof’ of greeting, as Neville came intro sight.

“Hello Hagrid, Fang,” he beamed. “Hermione!” he added when he spotted her.

“Hi Neville,” she replied, sitting up again and dusting off her skirt. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Likewise. Thought you’d be in the library!”

She tried not to let the innocent comment sting and Neville carried on while she drained half of her mug of tea in one go. It was strong enough to tan leather, but the taste of it fortified her somehow.

“Come to collected those chizpurfles for the venomous tentacula’s weekly feed, Hagrid, if you don’t mind. And some more doxy venom if you have it. Professor Slughorn asked me to pick some up next time I stopped by.”

“Right you are,” Hagrid grunted as he got up off the log and stumped off into his hut.

Hermione looked up at Neville over the rim of her mug and realised just how much he’d grown up too. He was almost handsome now. He met her eye and flashed her a curious frown, and she laughed softly and set the mug down. Fang began to lap at the remnants and she abandoned it happily enough to him. “I was just talking to Hagrid about how much we’ve all grown up since first year. How’s life as Professor Sprout’s teaching assistant?”

Some of the few ‘eighth years’ had been adopted by various members of staff as teaching assistants, and she’d been approached by no fewer than three. Muggle Studies was plenty enough for her though.

“Oh it’s going great,” Neville beamed. “Professor Sprout’s letting me grow the squill on my own and they’re doing really well so far. Slughorn needs them for his Felix Felicis class later this term.”

“That’s great,” she said, and she really meant it. He deserved to be happy after everything. Rumour had it that he and Hannah Abbott were getting closer and closer too.

“What about you? You seem busier than ever…” he said.

With a long inhale and a knowing look, she nodded. “Yes. Speaking of, I should stop talking Hagrid’s ear off and get back up to the castle. I’ve got three essays to finish today and Charms at sixth period.”

Hagrid emerged a moment later with a small crate of assorted things for Neville and he chuckled fondly. “That’s our Hermione, eh Neville? Never sitting still for more ‘an five minutes at a time!” He paused before handing the crate to Neville and added, “Yer welcome here any time - all of you lot, you know that. You need a cup of tea, or a cuddle with Fang, yer more ‘an welcome to it.”

Her throat closed up a little and she promised herself she wasn’t going to cry. “Thanks, Hagrid. And you, Fang,” she smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and earning a thwack around the calves from his tail for the effort.

“You going back up to the castle, Neville?” she asked and he nodded.

“Well, greenhouses,” he amended.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

“See you Hagrid!” they both chimed and she headed back with her chest feeling considerably lighter. Something did lurk in the background though, like a grindylow in the weeds, but she tried not to give it any attention. Malfoy. It was all their talk about Malfoy. And she didn’t want to think about him just then. Neville, it seemed, had no such concerns about bringing up the Slytherins.

As they neared the greenhouses, footsteps crunching on the compacted gravel pathway, he asked, “How are your prefect patrols with Nott going?”

“You heard about that, huh?” she grinned.

“Ginny mentioned something about prefects being paired with different houses. Is he alright? I never really knew him ‘before’.”

Before. That word carried such weight. She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear only for it to spring loose again immediately. “It’s not bad, actually. I was wary at first, but I’ve got to know him a bit in some of my classes too, and he’s honestly not awful. He’s a cocky little shit, don’t get me wrong, but… he’s also kind of nice.”

“For a Slytherin…” Neville snorted playfully.

“No, for anyone,” she said evenly. “He’s extremely smart, and surprisingly considerate, and he’s even rather witty. I don’t mind being on a rota with him at all.”

Neville shot her a long look but eventually shrugged. “What do Harry and Ron have to say about it?”

Her chest twisted painfully and she looked away. “They’re not my keepers, Neville,” she snapped under her breath.

“I didn't mean it like that,” he said patiently. “I just… I just meant… never mind. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she insisted. “I’ve been in a funny mood all day. I’m sure Luna would tell me it’s wrackspurts or something.”

Neville smiled and they parted ways at the greenhouses with a promise to catch up at lunch.

All in all, Hermione wasn’t sure that her trip to Hagrid’s had done much other than fill her up with mightily strong tea, but the walk had probably done her good and put some colour in her cheeks, as her mother used to say. God, she missed her parents. Kingsley Shacklebolt had promised to send agents to check in on them from time to time, but he’d sent no word lately of how they were doing. No news, she assumed, meant good news at least.

The remainder of her day passed relatively uneventfully, and she got the homework done in good time, just as she’d planned.

It still felt oddly as if she were drifting about the place, more of a ghost than any of the genuine spirits who haunted the halls of Hogwarts, but she half hoped she could get the chance to talk to Malfoy again in Charms that afternoon. The tentative truce they’d shared in the first few weeks of term - polite nods and tersely academic conversation - seemed in danger of fracturing and shattering. If it went now, she wasn’t sure they’d get another chance to repair the damage done by their shared history.

Malfoy, however, sat beside Nott and didn’t look up at all from his textbook, except to perform an impressively nonchalant flick of his wand to transform some vinegar into a rather inviting-looking glass of champagne at Flitwick’s invitation. He even transfigured the glass in the same sweep to turn it from a squat, ugly tumbler into an elegant flute.

“Very nice, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor Flitwick chirruped. “Now, Miss. Granger, can you tell us why such a charm is taught here in this classroom, and not in Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall? Extra transfigurations notwithstanding,” he added with a flash of his eyes at Malfoy.

Because taking classes with obnoxiously stubborn Slytherins drives one to drink… “Well, simply put: oxidation of the ethanol in the wine forms ethanoic acid which produces vinegar. All this charm does is force that oxidation reaction to run the other way, and return the vinegar to its original, reduced state. You can repeat the charm as many times as you like, oscillating between vinegar and wine, but that’s all you could do. It’s why you couldn’t use this charm to convert orange juice into champagne. You’d need to transfigure that, as Malfoy did rather neatly with the glass,” she added in his direction.

Malfoy’s silver eyes darted from the page in front of him where he’d been doodling - small drawings of owls and serpents, she thought, though it was hard to tell from that angle - and found her face. She offered him a tiny smile, and to her surprise, he returned it, though the gesture was barely more than a twitch of one corner of his full lips.

“Very good,” Professor Flitwick said, returning to the front of the small classroom. “Now, for our next charm, I have something a little less… frivolous in mind. Miss Granger, if you’d be so kind as to come down to be my demonstration partner?”

She shunted her chair back and stood, smoothing out her skirt automatically before coming down to the front of the room. It felt odd to have everyone’s eyes on her, and she almost had to close her own for a moment to remind herself that she was not back at the Ministry, and Malfoy was no longer on trial. Her eyes flickered up to his shot of silver hair in the back row, but he was doodling again. She was at Hogwarts, and she was supposed to be listening to Flitwick so that she knew which bloody charm he wanted to demonstrate with her.

“…is a protective charm that will create a barrier around the caster and keep them from the view of people on the other side,” Flitwick said.

Oh heck, did she know this one. And she’d probably cast it accidentally in her sleep a hundred times since returning from their life on the run.

“Hermione?” Flitwick asked, “Are you alright? You’ve gone a shade… green.”

“I’m fine, Professor,” she smiled, tamping everything down inside her again. “You want me to cast it now?”

“If you would be so kind.”

Bringing her hand up, she flicked her wand and muttered, “Cave inimicum.”

The shuddering wall of magic descended around her, muffling and distorting the voices of the class. From the safety of her invisible bubble, she could stare openly at Malfoy and she discovered, to her surprise, that he’d been wearing an oddly intense expression as he’d watched her cast. Nott, sitting beside him, looked as casual as ever at first glance, but now that she took the time to look a little longer, she saw an intense light in his dark blue eyes that had only kindled when Malfoy had leaned forwards on the desk, long fingers folded in front of him, his icy grey eyes alive and roiling with emotions she couldn't read.

“Thank you, Miss Granger,” Flitwick’s voice echoed dully through the barrier to her ears. “Presuming you’re still there, of course.” He chortled amusedly at his own joke. “Now, if I stick my hand through the barrier, it will disrupt it, but if I step inside entirely —” he did so, and she smiled as the tiny wizard looked up at her and the charm fractured but held tenuously, “— you will see how easily the illusion is shattered. Of course, you can still hear through one of these barriers, so the caster will have to use other enchantments to reduce noises.”

Someone made a predictably crass comment about having a quickie behind the broomstick sheds with this one, and half the class snorted. Those students among them who had already discovered such charms either kept extremely still in their seats, or flushed slightly. Hermione managed to do neither, but she thought she detected a slight warming of Theodore’s freckled cheeks. Interesting. She’d not known him to have shown any romantic interests, but then again, she’d had slightly more important things on her mind than who was sleeping with whom in sixth year. Except for Ron. She’d known exactly who he was sleeping with, and it had made her nearly mad with jealousy. That she’d been so petty over the business with Lavender - rest her soul - was something that still gnawed away at her. In the end, Hermione and Ron had been better off as friends anyway. She often wondered if Lavender would have been good for Ron in the long run. She’d never know now.

Mechanically, she took down the enchantment at Professor Flitwick's request, and returned to her seat.

“Used that one before have you, Granger?” a blond seventh year Slytherin seated on the second row leered. He reminded her so viscerally of Cormac McLaggen that her gut twisted unpleasantly.

With her expression stony, she paused just behind him and replied in a voice just loud enough to carry, “Came in handy once or twice last year for evading snatchers, yes,” she said tartly before sitting down and glaring at her textbook. Malfoy said nothing nor looked at her.

She snuck a sidelong look at him a minute or two later as Flitwick wrapped up the class, and saw that he was gripping his wand in his left hand so hard his knuckles had faded a few shades lighter than the rest of his skin, and a muscle in his jaw was pulsing. Theodore shuffled beside him and a moment later, the tension eased in Malfoy. He let out a long, slow breath through his nose and then Draco looked at her. The pain in his eyes - the open, unshielded, raw pain - stole her breath. Unthinkingly, she almost reached for his shoulder, but she caught herself in time and instead offered him a smile. ‘I forgave you’ she tried to convey with just her eyes.

Malfoy’s face hardened again and he looked away.

As the bell tolled for the end of class, he stood up and left without a word, shoving past Nott and leaving the room in a swirl of black robes.

Hermione pulled a face and found that Nott was offering her a matching grimace. The rest of the class streamed out, but the two of them remained in the lecture room.

“We knew it wouldn’t be easy,” Hermione said, eyes on the doorway where Malfoy had vanished. “After everything… There are bound to be things that come up in class now — potions, spells…” she paused and said pointedly, “Even curses… which, you know, we’ve all used to get by in one way or another. Tell him…” Tell him what? “Never mind. Just — “ she let out another little frustrated huff and shook her head, curls bouncing wildly. Her last hair-tie had spontaneously snapped in the library and she now felt like a real Gryffindor lioness, wandering around with a wild, curly mane haloing her head. There were smoothing charms, but she didn’t fancy messing about with magic in the girls’ bathrooms. She’d done that before, with mixed success. “I’ll see you for patrols tonight,” she said, defeated.

Nott nodded and stepped aside to let her pass out of the row first.

___

Part Four

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writing masterlist | Ao3

#dramione #draco x theo #draco x hermione #draco malfoy x theodore nott #draco x theo x hermione #draco x hermione x theo #hermione x draco #hermione x draco x theo #theo x draco #harry potter fanfic

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 6 years ago

Text

Golden: Part 1

Pairing: Skinwalker!Steve x Reader Summary: After a long day of work, you unwind in your bed and ramble at your dog (a golden retriever named Captain) who, like all non-sentient creatures, listens dutifully and without judgement. But everything isn’t as it seems. Warnings: Blood Word Count: ~1,558 A/N: This is the third Monster!Character one shot for Spooktober 2018! If you’d like to be tagged in other Spooktober stories like this one, check out this post! Send me Spooktober requests for Monster!Character fics you want to see! This request is from Ao3!

Masterlist // The Monster Series Collection // Part 2

By the time you walk in your front door and lock it behind you, you’re practically dead on your feet. The sound of nails clacking excitedly on the floor catches your attention, though, and a half second later a comet of golden fluff barrels around the corner. You can practically hear the cartoon screeching halt sound effect playing in your head as your dog- Captain- comes to an abrupt halt in front of you, pink tongue lolling out of his mouth in a big doggy grin.

You can’t help but smile at him as you slip off your heels, juggling them and your bag so you can scratch gently at his ears. “I’m home, bud. How was your day?” you ask him in your go-to doggy voice.

He can’t understand you, but he woofs quietly and pants happily as he trails you through the halls, close but not close enough to trip you up.

“That’s good,” you said agreeably, eye sparkling with amusement. You drop your bag off on the couch but don’t stop walking, marching tiredly towards your bedroom. You don’t pause except to throw your jacket towards the closet before you collapse into bed, blissful sigh leaving your lips.

The mattress bounces gently and you turn your head to look at Captain, who lays down next to you, just far enough away that his breath doesn’t reach you.

“You wanna hear about my day?” you ask him, knowing full well you’re going to regale him with tales, heedless of the fact that he won’t understand a word of it. He seems to enjoy the sound of your voice and you enjoy talking to a creature that can’t judge you.

But Captain gives you a big doggy smile and whuffs gently, so you take that as a yes.

“Well, Pierce was in a particularly bad mood. He had me running about the office all day after the coffee shop mixed up his order.” Captain whines softly so you absently reach over and scratch gently at his ears. “But then I went to the canteen on the bottom floor and that guy was there again,” you tell the golden retriever, eyes serious. As if sensing this is important, he stills, staring at you with brown eyes. “You remember, right? The one with the blond hair and the prettiest blue eyes ever?” Captain tilts his head to one side and blinks at you, and you frown. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t, would you? Anyway, he was working the register again and I finally managed to get a peek at his name tag. His name is Steve!” you say excitedly, not quite able to stop your voice from growing in volume.

Captain whines at the noise and you quickly scratch at his head and sooth him with long pets down his back. “Don’t be jealous, it looks ugly on you,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him.

This is apparently the wrong thing to do, though, because a second later Captain scoots forward and licks the entire side of your face.

“Captain, no! Erughk!” you exclaim, trying in vain to shove the mass of fluff and muscle off of you.

He does sit back down, though, mouth open, panting and undeniably happy.

You snort at him. “Glad you see it my way. Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I brought home one more person to give you pets?” you ask, grinning when he woofs softly. “It’s settled, then,” you tell him. “I’ll ask him out tomorrow!”

Captain’s tail thumps against the mattress insistently, obviously excited because of your tone. Dogs could understand that much, at least.

You smile and crawl underneath the blankets, resolve settling deep in your chest. “Tomorrow, then. Better sleep so I can wake up early and plan my outfit extra carefully.”

Captain, of course, remains quiet as he settles in above the blankets, right next to you. Even through the blankets he’s like a heater and you think that maybe, with him around, you can put off turning the heat on until a little later into October.

“Goodnight, bud,” you mutter, falling asleep quickly. The only response you get is a sleepy snuffle, but you’ve already fallen into unconsciousness.

You don’t hear the howl echoing outside, waking Captain instantly, nor do you hear the low whine in his throat at the sound.

You awake with a screech, a vice-like pain in your arm snapping you into alertness immediately.

Captain was sitting on the bed, staring down at you, jowels tinged slightly pink with blood.

Your blood.

You scramble away from the golden, eyes wide with fear. Never in the time you’d owned him had he done anything violent towards any other living creature (not even your neighbor Ms. McGillucutty’s vicious minpin).

Blood seeps out of the bite and you clamp a hand around it, eager to staunch some of the bleeding.

You half expect Captain to attack again, but he simply stares at you, tail between his legs and head down, whining softly.

“What the fuck!” you cry out, not too loudly, afraid that you’ll startle him into biting again. “Shit,” you hiss, flinching as your arm throbs painfully. The door to the bathroom is open and you long to go in and clean the cut out, but Captain is between you and it and you’re afraid he’ll lunge if you make a move for it.

But then the sound of something cracking- it was a deep, wet sound, that had your stomach turning- makes you freeze.

It’s coming from Captain.

Maybe he was hurt and tried to wake you up, but couldn’t? Is there someone in your house? Was he trying to warn you?

A yelp of pain followed by even more cracking and Captain is shifting- but that doesn’t make any sense- and his hair and snout are receding and his eyes are changing colors and he’s growing broader and his claws are turning into nails and his feet are shortening and within a minute Steve- Steve from the sandwich shop- is sitting naked on your bed, eyes watering.

You’re so shocked that you don’t even flinch as he practically throws himself at you and sobs into your hair, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I had to. I didn’t want to, but we need your help and they didn’t trust that you’d help if I just asked. I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

“What are you?” you breathe, horror creeping into your voice. “Is this a dream?”

He doesn’t release you. If anything, he pulls you closer. “This isn’t a dream. I’m what humans call a skinwalker,” he admits quietly, voice ever so slightly muffled by your hair.

“You’re Captain,” you whisper, brain not processing the events of the last five minutes at all.

“Yes,” he answers immediately.

“And you’re Steve, from the canteen at work.”

“Yes,” he answers again, voice breaking.

“You bit me,” you mumble into the meat of his shoulder, mind painfully aware of the throbbing in your forearm. The pain is radiating outwards slowly and, deep in the back of your mind, a tiny voice shouts “infection” at you. “Why?”

“They asked me to turn you.” He finally moves back enough so that you can breathe freely. You stare numbly as he takes your hand gently in his and lifts it slowly, brow furrowing as he gives your arm an assessing stare.

Your gaze follows his and you’re shocked to see it’s already scabbed over, dried blood making it look worse that it actually is. “What the hell,” you breathe. “I’m fucking dreaming,” you whisper, light-headed. This was too weird. This couldn’t be real.

But Steve-Captain shakes his head, blond hair nearly falling into his eyes. “Not a dream. I’m sorry,” he says, blue eyes immeasurably sad.

“Turn me. Into a dog?” you whisper, tearing your eyes from your mostly-healed wound (which was still throbbing in a worryingly painful way) to stare at him.

Steve-Captain shakes his head slowly. If he hadn’t just bitten you, you might say he looks pitying, or even gentle. “A skinwalker. We won’t know for sure what you’ll turn into, but we’re guessing a cat or a dog. Maybe a parrot.”

“Why me?”

Steve-Captain frowns. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, but you should sleep for now. The transition is going to take a lot out of you.”

You should have said no. Should have shoved Steve-Captain from your bed and run away. Gotten in your car and driven as far and as fast as you could.

But the whispers of “safe. pack. sleep.” and hundreds of equally-comforting thoughts drift in the back of your mind, and your eyelids grow heavy without you realizing it.

You sink down into the sheets, not caring when Steve-Captain slides in next to you, one arm going around your waist while the other brings your wounded arm to his mouth, pink tongue darting out to clean the blood from your bite mark.

You fall asleep to the sight of tender blue eyes keeping watch over you, big arms shielding you from the world.

When you awake your bed seems larger and you blink and yawn, staring down at Steve-Captain, who’s his usual doggy self.

Maybe it was a dream after all.

You open your mouth to say good morning to him, but all that comes out is a long, plaintive meow.

Part 2

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#steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #skinwalker!steve x reader #skinwalker!steve #spooktober #Spooktober 2018 #monster!character one shot #The Monster Series

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