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gaiuswrites · 4 years

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Tower

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | two

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You’re apart of the Refugee Relief Movement, an intergalactic organization providing aid throughout the systems, and you find yourself assisting at a resettlement camp in Lothal when disaster strikes, changing your life forever, intertwining your path with that of a certain Mandalorian bounty hunter.

Word count: 3.7k~

Rated: Mature

Warnings: descriptive violence, blood/injury mentioning, danger, mature language

Notes: Hi y'all, welcome. This fic is going to be set during Season 2 of The Mandalorian, and will be what I like to call ‘canon adjacent’. ALSo, this chapter is very much so Reader focused, setting up the scene and the general pacing of the story, but naturally, Din will be more and more featured as things progress. I’m a sucker for backstory and a slow burn, so ye be warned. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) I’d love to hear from you lovely little beans. Be safe out there, friends.

Lothal was a planet all too familiar with occupation.

You remember seeing a quote somewhere that read ‘Look no further than Lothal if you want to see what happens when the Empire takes control of an entire world’; and although the Imperial chokehold had loosened when the Empire fell, the planet, even all these years later, still found itself gasping for breath.

Off world migration from the Core Worlds had been popularized since the expansion of the Imperial government bureaucracy, which brought booming business opportunities for the fortunate few, but as the rich became richer, the poor grew poorer. The Lothalites were forced out of their homes, off their own lands—refugees on their own planet; forced to resettle and relocate with nothing but the clothes on their back and the possessions they could cram into their pockets. The only heirlooms passed on from generation to generation were that of poverty, tall tales of former splendor, and the greatest of ancestral traumas: disillusionment.

The truly desperate turned to crime, and what couldn’t be solved by back-dealings and blaster fire was managed with fear mongering and the bitter flair of xenophobia. There was always a species to blame, and it was always the one who seemed to be doing better off, no matter how slight the margin.

Greed. Fear. Despair. These are the currencies in which the galaxy trades.

And so it was then, and continued to be, cycle after cycle. History, always finding clever ways to repeat itself.

On bad days, pollution still loomed heavy over the atmosphere—remnants of the fires from the Imperial occupation still clinging on to Lothal’s weary bones. She had been stripped during that time; gutted and strung up by her feet to dangle from the Empire’s meat hook, exsanguinated slowly, drop by drop, until she had nothing left to give. Her resources and minerals and ore and water and seed, robbed. Pillaged.

She’s free from it now, but the scars remain— the planet remembers. Her people do not forget. Like muscle memory, they all ungulate to this synthesized rhythm they can’t seem to shake, day in and day out, wandering. Forever unsettled.

The planet had always had a diverse population and had become something of a safe haven for other abandoned people fleeing their home worlds, determined to find somewhere - anywhere - for them to survive. Lothal provided that for them. It wasn’t rich or bountiful by any stretch, but it was simple and safe—safe in the way hidden things in plain sight are. One could blend into the crowd of many, unique faces, of all races and backgrounds; you could be anonymous, if you wanted. You could be free.

That’s how you’ve found yourself here in Jortho. You had been with the Refugee Relief Movement for the better part of what felt like forever, and they had transferred you to this planet not six weeks ago. You were out on rotation; the RRM sends someone new twice a cycle for the span of a month or two to varying locations to supply rations, aid with the influx of refugees, organize resettlement lodgings, and generally be of assistance when and where you could. However, your tenure on this temperate planet was coming to a close, and soon you’d be flying back to the headquarters on Coruscant before being bounced to another post somewhere out among the stars.

You love your job. You know it’s unpopular to say, but you do. It’s fulfilling and impactful and indescribably special. The individuals you meet, the stories you hear, they’re invaluable— priceless and precious, like handmade trinkets crafted by the fingers of a child; you press them all to your heart, holding them there. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get to you— the weight of it; the plights of all of these people, all of these lives, burdening your conscience. It isn’t always painless— you aren’t immune to it. Even so, on most nights you manage to sleep easy, tucked away aboard the transport freighter you flew in on with the batch of settlers newly assimilated into town knowing Maker, at least you were doing something— anything— everything you could.

And really, to call Jortho a town would be an insult to all towns everywhere—but ‘town’ has a certain charm to it that ‘refugee camp’ simply did not, and it gave the people hope. Pride, even. That they belonged somewhere.

You suppose that’s all anyone wants. To belong.

A feather soft gust of wind tickles the golden blades of prairie grass as the sun, bleary and tired, starts dipping from the sky. The crickbeets begin their song early, trilling, sensing Lothal’s moons still coyly tucked away, hiding somewhere along the horizon. A smile adorns your face, private and serene, as you bring a bowl of broth up to your lips, humming when the warm liquid meets your tongue. You sigh, contented, taking in the sights before you; how the dusk blurs the aromatic air, making it opaque, the shuttles docked across the way from you casting long purple shadows onto the flat plains, the snowcapped mountains in the distance bordering the cant of the planet’s surface, nestling Jortho in a shallow valley.

You feel calm, at peace, and take another sip.

An easy moment passes, and it’s the last one you get before silence stalks up from behind you.

You don’t notice it at first, like any patient predator, it goes undetected: the white noise, the nothingness— until finally, you do and then suddenly it’s everywhere. On top of you. Smothering you. Goosebumps stipple your skin and you bristle. The insects have stopped chirping. The breeze has stilled. The air hangs dead.

And then—

Chaos.

You’re hit with a blast of crushing heat, the sheer power of it picking you up off your feet and onto your side, sending your body careening into a nearby structure. Your shoulder takes most of the blow, but your neck still snaps backwards unnaturally, the back of your head colliding with the stone wall behind you with a dull thwack. You let out a groaned cry at the impact, the wind knocked out of your lungs as you crumple to the ground.

For an instant, your vision goes white, stars popping and fusing out in front of your pupils, and it’s like you can feel everything and nothing all at once, hollow but overwhelmed, and all you want to do is close your eyes and drift asleep— Maker that would feel like a luxury, just right here on the damn dirt. And you almost do, you almost let yourself slip under and sink— until you hear a piercing scream from somewhere close.

Immediately your eyes shoot open, desperately blinking away the blurriness that threatens to over take them, and you try pushing yourself up by the heels of your scraped hands, failing once - twice - before finding your footing. You’re shaky at first, uncoordinated and dizzy and redownloading bipedalism, before that sweet drug of adrenaline starts to course through your veins and finally, finally, you take in your surroundings.

The ships that once stood across the field are gone, obliterated, and in their place only metal ribcages remain—empty carcasses like dead birds splayed on their backsides, imploded from the inside out, their bits strewn all around you.

Your breathing comes hard and heavy, fighting down panic, and cloudy eyes search through the thick black smoke billowing up in stacks, trying to pin point the source of the scream you’d heard just moments ago. You cough a strained wheeze, sputtering against the charred air, and wade your way through the debris— it’s only then that you realize the magnitude of the explosion. It’s not just the landing bay, it’s half the kriffing village. The buildings that neighbored the airfield had been decimated, burning roofs and crumbling fixtures, homes collapsing onto themselves, scorch marks and shrapnel branding the outsides of the shanties left standing.

It looks like a battlefield. You’ve seen holovids of this—what war can look like, how it can ruin a people… But you’ve never had to stand in the middle of it, head on.

Your heart drums against your chest as you break into a hobbled run, desperately scanning the area for any signs of life, up and down, left and right, straining against the waning daylight. It’s then that you hear your name, urgent and frantic, and you whip your head in it’s direction, knees nearly buckling in relief. You immediately recognize your friend Hareem, brandishing her arms at you, waving you over to her.

“Thank the Maker, you’re alright!” the Balosar cries out, trembling hands finding purchase on your shoulders, bracing you. You don’t know if its for your benefit or her own, but either way you’re grateful for the grounding pressure; for the first time since the initial blast, you feel solid, like you won’t just float away, atomized and weightless. Worried, you look her over. A sliver of fresh scarlet blooms from her scalp, a small line trickling down past her temple, but she otherwise looks relatively unharmed. You grasp onto her wrist, squeezing firmly.

“What the hell happened?” You ask, voice low and pitched, wide fearful eyes drilling into her.

“T-There was a man-” And she shakes her head, mouth clamping shut, deep wrinkles framing her face.

“Hareem,” you reassure, giving her another squeeze. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.

She tries again with a steadying inhale, “I-I saw him. A-a man. He had a device with him, and he set charges, and Maker I don’t know— I don’t know— it went off a-and he ran towards the center of town!” The Balosar is in hysterics, tears spilling down her dirty cheeks, and it takes your brain a moment to catch up, to wrap your mind around the words she’s stuttering out.

A man.

Device.

Charges.

A bomb. This wasn’t an accident; this was an attack—and he’s still kriffing here. You cup her cheeks, thumbs rubbing against the pale skin, smearing away the blood that’s nearly dripped to her chin. Your friend’s gaze is flighty, everywhere and nowhere, and you try giving her a smile, but you’re not quite sure you manage it.

“Hareem? Hareem. Hey, shh, you’re okay. You’re alright…” You peel your eyes off her to glance around hurriedly. “We need to find cover.”

///

You’re holed up in one of the few remaining homes on this side of the encampment, crowded into the small space with three other survivors. All four of you, packed in and silent and petrified. Unsure of any further threat, you stay completely still. Helpless. Laying here, idle, for whatever awaits you behind that feeble, wooden door. You feel like prey for the wicked, just passing the time.

Minutes inch along like this—or maybe its hours; time moves eerily different when you’re attempting to become invisible—and eventually, you almost begin to relax.

Almost.

But a new sound breaks the din, hard to recognize at first, indistinct from all the commotion outside their hut, but you hear it. You all do. The youngest of you, a teenaged Devaronian, grips onto the hem of your shirt, knuckles creasing with anticipation. You tense, spine going rigid. Footsteps. They’re slow, guarded, but they’re getting closer. You bring an arm up, for all the good it’ll do, creating a human shield in front of the boy at your side. Closer. Someone behind you muffles a whimper. Closer. A Bardottan you hadn’t even met until today let’s out the faint whisper of a prayer, lips barely ghosting over the phrases. Closer-

and then, nothing.

They’re here. You can sense him, see his shadow sweep across the gaps in the entryway. You all hold your breath, as if the air is being syphoned out of the space… And the door is flung open, nearly breaking off it’s hinges as it slams into the inside of the house, shuttering the rickety walls with a jarring bang.

You don’t know who looks more astonished: you four, or the Mandalorian before you, dripping head to toe in silver plated armor, pointing a blaster directly at your head.

“Where is he?” He asks, hard edged and modulated, and it’s more of a demand than a question—but he lowers his weapon all the same, holstering it at his side. You gape at him, guppying wordlessly. “Volcur X’elo. The bomber. Where?” He hasn’t moved an inch out of the doorframe but he’s still managing to loom over you, completely filling up the archway, shoulders set and impossibly intimidating.

You gulp, finally finding your voice. “In town, i-in the center of town…” Kriff, you had not idea if that intel was good or not, but it’s all you think to say. Seeming satisfied with your answer he turns on his booted heel, cape whipping behind him, leaving just as soon as he arrived. The dust barely has time to settle as the door teeter’s on its hinge, its rusty squeaks filling the void in the Mandalorian’s wake.

“Fuck,” you hiss, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, doubling forward, propping your palms up on your knees.

///

After deliberating it with your group, you all come to the agreement of braving it outside. Better to be out under the open sky than die under a concaving apartment, clambering over each other to get to the exit. After all this, at least your dignity was still partially in tact— normally, you reckon you’d chuckle dryly at that. But you don’t.

Can’t.

You lead the pack through the mazelike streets. The sights that once seemed so familiar after weeks of living here become like strangers to you, and you sleepwalk through Jortho, snaking down paths marred by rubble and fallen wreckage— you haven’t seen any bodies, but maybe that isn’t true. Maybe you’re just too scared to notice them. Maybe they’re there, hovering just outside of your peripherals, haunting the corners of your vision…

You keep your head fixed forward, jaw clenched.

Your feet move on their own like this, only vaguely aware that the red-skinned boy still hadn’t let go of your tunic. You forge on. Have to. You have to. Your only purpose on this kriffing planet was to help these people, to bring them aid, and if that means simply planting one foot in front of the other, then so be it. You take side alleys, double backing here and there, ducking under canopies, looping around yourself, only stopping when you catch a glimpse of beskar, the orange setting sun glinting off the surface of his helmet.

And he’s not alone.

You freeze suddenly, as do the rest, and the Devaronian bumps into you, stumbling under his lanky legs. Some paces in front of you, the bounty hunter has the other man, this Volcur X’elo, by a punishing grip on his shoulders, shoving him forcefully out in front of him; his wrists are bound and he’s fitful without the stabilization of his arms, his feet staccatoed and flailing wildly beneath him as the Mandalorian marches him forward.

The wind shifts, and on it you can hear the bomber rant madly, only catching snippets of the vile nonsense that spews from him.“- like swine, they are a plague to the system! And they must be purged from this planet, and the next, and the next— every last filthy one!” You spare a glance to Hareem, to find her watching the scene in hypnotized horror, but your eyes snap back at the sound of something maniacal, drawing your attention. It’s laughter. The zealot begins to laugh a twisted, mocking cry that makes you want to vomit. “You might have me in binders Mandalorian, but you’re too late. You’re too late. This isn’t over!” He’s practically giggling, gleeful and demented. Disturbed. “You’ve only found one.”

Your blood runs cold.

Only one? Oneoneoneone, one what-

The realization hits you with a punch to your gut. He’s only detonated one of his bombs. Somewhere, nearby, there must be another.

Without another word, the Mandalorian whips the smaller man around, pulling him sharply by his collar to collide with his breastplate, completely dwarfing him with his beskar frame. “Where is it, X’elo?” Nothing. Only laughter. High pitched, terrible roars. He tries again, patience ebbing. “The bomb. Now.” X’elo’s head tilts back and he howls another crowing shriek, keeping private his own sick joke, as if clutching a secret to his chest with slimy hands.

The bounty hunter had heard enough. He clearly wasn’t getting anything more out of him, and with a quick strike, he rears his blaster and pistol whips the terrorist with it. The body drops. Volcur X’elo crumples, unconscious, blood streaming from where he was struck. You hear the Bardottan behind you stifle a cry with her fist.

And with that, Lothal’s sun disappears completely, stealing away the last of it’s light as it furls into itself, shrinking out of sight. The dark ushers a new wave of dread, creeping over Jortho like a miasma, poisoning the very air.

The Mandalorian wheels around, searching for his heading in the labyrinth of the town. Others have gathered now, poking their heads around corners, stealing glimpses through windows. He turns, his head on a swivel. “Where is your power generator?” he demands, addressing the small crowd, but you’re all too stunned to speak. “Anybody. Generator. Now.” There’s something new in his voice, something muddled, and it takes you a moment to interpret it. It’s desperation, you realize, tinny and deep through his vocoder, and with a surge of adrenaline you move forward, furthering yourself from your group. You swallow. “I-Its this way.” Upon hearing your voice, he spins around, his visor latching on to you, and with a nod you both set out.

“Watch him,” the Mandalorian growls past his shoulder, stepping over the bounty’s limp body.

///

You’re still not really sure how he knew where it’d be, you wonder to yourself, gravel crunching under foot as you both trudge on, an eery quiet settling over them. You’d say it was a lucky hunch, but judging by the way the Mandalorian carries himself, you doubt luck had much to do with it.

You had led him to the power generator hub on the other side of the sad excuse for a city, traveling in tense silence, and when you came upon that tall, bulky machine he sprang into action, circling it until he found what he was looking for. The bomb. You stood back, rooted there, and after some grunting and rewiring— or maybe he just hacked at it with a vibroblade, you had no idea; his wide frame engulfed his work and you couldn’t tell what he was up to, all you knew was that his methods proved successful— the man managed to disarm the second device. You had thought you noticed his shoulders release, slumping with relief, after the red flashing lights on the rudimentary interface flickered and then went dark.

And so here you are. The two of you, bathed in the bright light of Lothal’s twin moons, their bellies hanging full in the blue-black night, illuminating the trail of blood staining the dirt beneath your boots as the Mandalorian roughly drags the body by his ankle behind him— through the exploded rubble, through the fragmented lives of the people around you, already displaced and estranged. They’ll all have to move, you think, pack up their lives, or what little is left of them, and relocate. Again. The thought sinks in you like a stone, sobering you.

Even with the weight of a fully grown man to lug, the bounty hunter is still a few long strides in front of you and your eyes are trained on the unconscious form, taking in the way his mouth lolls open like an animal, his hair matted with thick blood, eyes rolled back into his head. You’re talking out loud before you even realize it.

“How sick do you have to be,” you mumble, transfixed. Your voice, it’s not angry; no, shock has effectively robbed you of that— it’s not anger, but bewilderment. Quivering, broken bewilderment.

“H-How hoodwinked and warped you’d have to be, how disturbed... For you to think like that. To do all... all this...”

“Hey,” his gruff voice shakes you from your trance, and you blink up at him, tearing your eyes off the body. “Focus,” he urges, and you can only nod dumbly back at him, suddenly feeling a ripple of nausea slither through you.

The ramp to his ship is lowering as they come upon it and you plant yourself at the base, feet seeming to stop on their own accord, and frankly you’re not really sure why you’ve even followed him this far in the first place— always a step behind him as he hauled his bounty all the way through the vestiges of Jortho, across the arid prairie to where he first touched down. Maybe it’s because you feel untethered, unmoored, and all of his steeled surety is like a lighthouse, a beacon, guiding you away from the rocks.

He heaves X’elo up the ramp and you’re left standing there, staring unseeingly into the durasteel, becoming more and more aware of the ringing in your ears. The longer time passes, the more it’s as if you’re underwater, the background blurring into the foreground, sound gargled and far away. A high pitched buzz pinches your ear drums, and it takes you a moment to realize the Mandalorian is calling out to you, trying to get your attention.

“— Dala.”

Does he sound annoyed? Kriff, you think he might... If you had your wits about you, you might be able to recognize it. But as it stands, you don’t. You’re not here, not all of you. You’re splintered. Suspended.

“Hmm? Sorry, what..?” Your mouth is as dry as Jakku— parched desert tongue darting across your cracked lip, tasting soot and ash and something metallic. Brow furrowed, you touch a shaky finger to the flesh and when you pull it back, crimson red dots your skin.

Oh, you think, numb. Huh.

Your eyes skitter back up to the Mandalorian, towering over you, nearly at the apex of the incline, and his stance is broad and his fists are clenched. You’re almost positive he’s glaring down at you through his visor, and you don’t even know the man, can’t even see his damn face, but you can tell he’s peeved— Maker, just how long had you been ignoring him?

A scratched noise comes through his helmet’s vocoder and his next words are clipped, punctuated. “I said, do you have a way off this skug hole?”

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writeforfandoms · 3 years

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Merry Go Round of Life 8

Find my masterlist

I’m so sorry this chapter took a while. But! Things are happening. More things will be happening next chapter. I’m actually super excited to get the next chapter out to y’all to see what you think. This one’s pretty fun too.

This will be Din Djarin x f!reader eventually. Don’t hold your breath folks, this one’s a slow burn. Sort of.

Warnings: Raised voices. Din being Dramatic.

In which there is confrontation

For several long moments, nobody spoke. Djarin stepped over to you and the kid, his helmet tilting down to look at you. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Vanth approaching as well, and the helmet abruptly whipped towards him.

“Not a word of this,” Djarin growled, still holding the knife. He didn’t brandish it, but he didn’t need to.

“Easy, partner,” Vanth said, holding his hands out away from his body. “You two alright?” he asked, very clearly looking at and addressing you.

“I… think so,” you answered slowly. You felt slow. Actually, you felt a little dizzy still. The kid was passed out in your arms, but still breathing. You could feel his heartbeat if you focused on your hands, one of which was braced against his chest to keep him more or less upright.

“Give me the child,” Djarin told you. You looked back at him to find him crouching in front of you, both hands out for the kid. When had he done that? You blinked, and then relinquished the child over to the wizard instead. Djarin tucked the kid comfortably against his chest, the helmet dipping briefly to, you guessed, do his own visual inspection.

“C’mon,” Vanth murmured. Now he was next to you too, gaze concerned as he looked you over. “Let’s get you on your feet, hm?”

“Oh. Alright.” You took his proffered hand and started to your feet. He ended up bracing his other hand under your elbow when you swayed, unsteady.

“Right,” Vanth muttered. “Uh. Right over here, now.” He steered you over to a boulder of a convenient size and then let you sit on that instead. “Well, I don’t think you’ll make it back to town right now.”

“I just need a moment,” you told him, despite the fact that seeing straight was currently optional. “I’ll be fine.”

“Ma’am--” Vanth started, brows furrowing in concern.

“You said the crystals are near here?” Djarin interrupted.

Vanth looked over at him slowly, clearly debating something. Then he sighed. “Yeah, maybe half hour’s walk.”

“Show me.” That was clearly an order.

“But--” Vanth started to protest, looking at you again.

“She’s safe enough here for a few minutes,” Djarin interrupted. “Just show me which direction and give me a landmark.”

Vanth huffed out a breath but nodded, jerking his head. The two of them walked away from you, and you closed your eyes and focused on breathing. The sun was warm, almost uncomfortably so, against your skin. Your skirt was still damp where you’d sat in the mud. You could smell the creature the longer it sat in the sun, a musky kind of animal smell. Your nose wrinkled without your permission.

“Have some water.”

You jumped and opened your eyes to glower at Vanth, who, to his credit, did look apologetic.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he murmured, holding out a canteen. He shook it a little, letting you hear the slosh of liquid inside.

“Thank you,” you murmured, taking the canteen. You took careful sips. You’d read somewhere, once, that you should sip water rather than guzzling it. You were pretty sure that had been about traveling, or deserts, or something.

“Feelin’ better?” Vanth asked, leaning one hip against the boulder you were still seated on.

“Yes, thank you.” You handed the canteen back. “Djarin went to get the crystals?”

A muscle in Vanth’s jaw ticked but he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

You nodded. Well. You weren't entirely surprised by that. Djarin had certainly seemed upset, and you could even understand why. You'd put the child in danger, albeit unwittingly. And things had turned out fine.

Still. If you were in his boots, you'd be upset, too.

"I'm alright to walk back," you told Vanth, creaking back to your feet.

For a moment, you thought Vanth would argue. Then he sighed. "Alright, then," he agreed. He offered you a hand up again, and tucked your hand against his arm as soon as you were up. "Y'tell me when you need to take a break."

Your lips twitched. "I will."

The walk back to town was longer than the walk out had been. About half-way back, Vanth informed you that the wizard would meet you at Vanth's house, and from there you'd go back to the moving castle.

As good a plan as any, you supposed, although you were a little apprehensive of the tongue lashing you'd no doubt have to endure later.

Amazingly, you and Vanth beat Djarin back to town. As you passed by the garden, Vanth paused, frowning. You peered around him at the plants. Nope. Still just plants. Huh. Without a word, he kept walking, steering you inside and straight to a seat. Then he made sure you drank more water, fussing until he was satisfied. You eyed him with amusement - he reminded you a little of Omera, actually.

"I'm alright," you assured him. "Thank you for your help."

Vanth nodded and finally sat down as well, stretching long legs out in front of him. "Has anything like that ever happened before?" He asked carefully.

"Not that I've seen," you answered. "But that's hardly surprising. Surely all sorts of things happen around wizards all the time."

Vanth gave you a startled look but was prevented from saying anything further by three sharp raps on the door. He huffed but stood, opening the door.

"Ready?" Djarin asked, looking past Vanth to you.

"Yes." You stood, a little surprised at how brusque the wizard was being. "Thank you," you told Vanth again, pressing a gentle hand to his arm.

The walk back to the moving castle was silent and strained. Djarin carried the child the entire way, and he had a bag slung over his shoulder that you hadn't seen before. You couldn't see anything under the flap, but every so often when the bag bumped his hip particularly hard it would chink gently.

You didn't try to talk to him this time. He still seemed to be in a bit of a mood, so you decided to wait him out.

It always worked with Cara, anyway.

"Took you long enough," Peli scolded as soon as Djarin opened the door. "Hey, what happened?"

Djarin didn't answer her, instead ascending the stairs, taking the kid and the bag with him. You sighed and sank into the chair in front of the fireplace. You were now officially worn out.

"What happened?" Peli demanded, leaping up higher to be able to look down at you.

"Djarin killed the creature," you told her wearily. "The child… did something. He helped, somehow. I'm not sure how to explain it."

"Tell me everything." Peli settled into her logs again, flickering with impatience until you started talking. And you told her everything - finding the trampled garden, following Vanth and Djarin out into the desert, how the child had seemingly levitated the creature long enough for Djarin to kill it.

By the end of your tale, Peli's eyes were wide. "Wow. And the kid's been asleep since?"

"Yes." You leaned back into the chair with a sigh.

"Huh. Never knew the kid could do that."

"What?" It was your turn to be flabbergasted.

"Yeah. It's not like Djarin tells me anything." Peli huffed, sending sparks flying up the chimney.

"I thought it was a fluke."

You and Peli both jumped at Djarin's voice. (Watching a fire jump was both highly entertaining and deeply unsettling.)

"So you have seen the kid do this before!" Peli crowed, while your heart was still attempting to beat out of your chest.

“Something like that. Once.” Djarin stood next to you, helmet tipped down to stare straight at you. “Why did you follow us?” His voice was a low rasp, and you could just hear anger simmering there.

“You’d been gone too long,” you told him with a shrug. “And the kid knew something was wrong. He wanted to get to you.”

That made Djarin pause. Then he shook his head. “And you let a child decide this?”

“He wasn’t wrong,” you pointed out, your own temper sparking now.

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“You were supposed to stay where it was safe.”

You snorted at that. “And if we had, who knows what would have happened to you.”

“You could have been killed,” Djarin growled, looming over you.

You found yourself on your feet, poking one finger into his armor. (Ow, that hurt.) “I wouldn’t let the kid get hurt,” you growled right back at him with a ferocity that served you well when you’d gotten into spats with your sisters. “It was not my finest moment, following you, but it worked out well in the end.”

Djarin stood there silently for several long moments, helmet still tipped down at you. Then he growled something (it sounded like a swear from the tone but it was no swear you’d ever heard before), turned, and strode away from you. He switched the knob to the black side, slipped out the door, and slammed it shut behind him. The knob turned back to green.

Taglist: @tibbietibbs @zinzinina @fandom-blackhole @pedrocentric @shoopidly @beskarprincessjenny @sarahjkl82-blog @cannedsoupsucks @liviiii98 @adriiibell @seasonschange-butpeopledont @princessxkenobi @thirddeadlysin @pbeatriz @oonajaeadira @kiizhikehn-cedar @withakindheartx @linkpk88 @pedro4ever @evyiione @janebby @anditsmywholeheart @ohheyitsokay @miraclesabound

#merry go round of life #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din is a drama queen #howl's moving castle au

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 4 years

Text

ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ | ᴋᴀɪ ᴄʜɪꜱᴀᴋɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ

Y’all thought it was oVER? lolol Blame Admin T--- I asked her who I should write for BNHA and she said this SO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ As always, thank you all so much for the love and support for this blog~! I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it~!

I do apologize if I don’t capture his character the best ;;”

I won’t lie, I was listening to Might U as I was writing this.

» » Admin Ko

Tedious. At least, that’s what it should’ve been. Yet instead of feeling the normal bouts of irritation at the lack of control he had over the situation at hand, he felt...unnerved. The imaginary seed that was implanted in his stomach all those months ago seemed to only gain in mass.

“...Who are you?”

He shouldn’t have allowed himself to grow these...feelings. Not only did he feel contaminated and utterly sick to his stomach, but the strange ache in his chest did nothing to help soothe his frazzled nerves as those curious yet dim (e/c) hues peered into his sorrowful golden ones.

“...My name is Chisaki Kai...”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

A bout of coughing and another grimace as the pain in his chest amplified tenfold at the horrifying sound. It disgusted him. It truly did, yet instead of feeling the need to get away, he wanted to get closer to her. To comfort her-- hell to shake some common sense into her. Even if it meant he would break out, he just had to do something.

“I...apologize if this seems rude...”

“What is it?”

“...what happened to your arms?”

“...I lost them because I was careless. This...I suppose, is my punishment.”

Her curious stare continued to wash over him as he felt the prickle of goosebumps rise on his shoulders. Turning away, he kept his gaze on the vacant wall of the hospital ward. This was torturous. She was torturous.

Yet still she managed to worm her way into his heart, and he didn’t know whether or not if he wanted to ask for cardiac surgery or to embrace this newfound emotion.

All he really knew was that if he had only been smarter-- hell maybe even faster at coming up with the quirk-destroying drug he could’ve prevented this. He could’ve gotten rid of the parasite that lurked in her veins.

➽───────────────❥

6 Months Ago

“Patient name: (y/n) (l/n). Quirk: Amnesiac.”

Trudging down the corridor, the man once known as Overhaul, walked in step alongside his parole officer / attending doctor. It hadn’t been too long since his arrest and...amputation. In all honesty, he wondered why he was being granted this rare privilege.

An assistant for a patient. That’s all they had told him. Of course Kai had to scoff. How on earth was he supposed to help? With the lack of usable limbs and knowledge limited to that of basic medical needs he didn’t really find a real necessity in this patient’s apparent ‘recovery’.

“...Amnesiac?”

“As it’s name implies, it’s a quirk that deals the user amnesia--- yet in our patient’s case it not only forces her to lose her memories, but practically breaks down her body’s physical state.”

“...In simpler terms?”

“In short every time she loses her memory her body deteriorates along with it. It’s as if her body is, in a sense...rewinding itself forward to make up for the fact that she lost those memories.”

A grimace. If he could, he would’ve spat out that he had been right in his assumption that quirks were just an infestation to the world, this patient clearly being a poor victim of it.

“...And what is my purpose of ‘assisting’ you?”

“As far as I’m aware, you’re pretty damn heartless and selfish. So it should be easy for you to not catch feelings for her whilst being a constant in her life right?”

“A...constant.”

“Yeah, just someone who she sees everyday until well...”

“She passes.”

“I mean...yeah. Damn you really are heartless.”

“Tch. This is a waste of my time is what this is.”

“Hey, you’re helping me whether you want to or not man. It’s just a visit everyday for like, an hour or two at most.”

Another grimace was given as Kai felt a shiver run down his spine. Despite the place he would be in was a hospital, it still brought the ex-yakuza boss a sense of dread. Especially with the amount of infested bodies that littered the place.

“...how long?”

“Holy shit dude, I get that you don’t want to do this but seriously---”

“How long until she loses her memory you dumbass.”

“..Oh. Well, from what we gather they can last from a day, to a couple of months. Though the longer she stays in a...well, let’s call it a session, the more it harms her body.”

“So say she forgets me tomorrow.”

“Then her body moves forward a day.”

“....After a month?”

“She lurches forward a month.”

“Thus leading to a quick progression in her deteriorating health.”

“...Exactly.”

It was, to say the least, unsettling to hear. Never had he heard of such a sickening twist for a quirk. No matter, the deal was simple. If he was lucky, this would last a year-- as fucked up as it sounded, the sooner she passed the less she would suffer in the long run.

As they neared the door, the clear unease that settled on his features was one that his parole doctor could see from a mile away.

“Chill dude, it’ll be fine.”

With that, the door cracked open, and there seated quietly whilst reading a book was a woman. By any standards she was normal, average, easy on the eyes with a slight fae-like feel. Though really it was most likely the early evening glow that cascaded into her room the moment they entered.

All Kai really knew was that it was the moment when gold met glittering (e/c) hues that a seed lodged it’s way into his stomach.

➽───────────────❥

It had started off easy-- well in Kai’s opinion it had. Every other day seemed to be a new start to the ritual that was re-introducing himself to her and making small talk.

In all honesty, he wouldn’t admit it, but the simplicity of being able to have a normal conversation with someone brought a sense of peace in him. Of course this didn’t mean his usual snark and calculating ways-- or so he says.

For Kai, this change in routine was oddly enough, welcomed. With everything he had gone and the collogues he had imprisoned god knows where, the opportunity to engage in small talk was to say the least, enlightening. It had surprised him. As someone who sought out tactical moves in reading his opponents, he found himself at ease with the simplicity of where he was at.

Granted it was albeit dull in comparison to the interrogations he goes through, it was still a part of his routine that he refused to change. Not when he’s been so invested in it.

That changes when the day he enters her room to find that instead of having to reintroduce himself to her, she remembers him. She flashes him a gentle smile with an endearing, “How are you?” and that in itself has the former yakuza leader lose his breath as he can only comically blink at her before forcing himself to adjust to this strange change.

No later did another change occur that brought a wave of new emotions in him. She had touched him. A caress to his cheek, and unsurprisingly in that moment he broke out in hives. His sight blurring as panic shot through his system at the abundance of thoughts that struck his head as the irritation from the hives had him reeling away from her.

He didn’t see her distressed face. Nor did he see the tears that streamed down her cheeks as she desperately sought out someone to help him. Instead, he awoke to his room laying down with his hives treated.

He felt violated. Disgusted, yet still. Even with that he found himself at her door a week later. Prepared to start a new with her and a possible replay of what had happened a week prior. Instead, he found her bowed deeply at the waist as she tightly clutched at the thin fabric of her hospital gown.

“I’m so sorry Chisaki! I didn’t know...I deeply apologize for what had happened!”

“...You...remembered?”

“Of course! You’re someone I can never forget.”

The pit in his stomach grew tenfold as his feet began to walk towards the awaiting lounge chair. Golden hues met truthful (e/c) ones as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat before once again bowing.

“I really am sorry...I shouldn’t have reached out to you like that...”

“...just be more aware next time.”

And like that, the pit in his stomach continued to grow. With each passing day she retained her memories, the more the pit swelled in size, and the more she began to work her way into his heart.

➽───────────────❥

Present Day

He didn’t know why he felt an overwhelming pressure in his gut. The lack of food he ate was odd enough, but to actively avoid something out of his daily routine? It was unheard of. He even made that stupid request to ask his parole doctor to grab (y/n) that stupid drink she liked.

Mentally shaking his head, Kai lightly tapped his shoe against the door before sliding it open.

The sight bestowed upon him though was one that could’ve brought him to his knees as the pang in his chest seemed to duly ache as he dragged his feet into the room.

“...(y/n)?”

It was quiet. The warm beams of the spring sun settled on her pale features as dim (e/c) orbs glimmered at the sight of him. He should’ve seen this coming. Especially after she had remembered him the day it set everything out of pattern. Instead, he turned a blind eye. Out of pure ignorance? He wasn’t remotely sure anymore. All he knew was that she shouldn’t be like this.

She should be her stupid lively self, cracking jokes and sharing her stupid stories with him. Not laying there like a corpse.

“Ah...Chi-- Kai, sorry you caught me waking up from a nap. I’m sorry I don’t look more presentable...”

“Nonsense. Now, tell me what you’ve done today.”

“Straight to the point huh? Sometimes I wonder how you’d ever date anyone.”

Though weak, the teasing tone she held in her voice was one that added more weight to his chest as he seated himself in what she declared the ‘(y/n)’s best friend’s chair’. A stupid name if you asked him, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

And like that, she spoke of her day, simple tasks and duties she’s done during her stay at the hospital while Kai listened to her as the best friend she claimed he was.

As for the new name basis, Kai couldn’t tell anyone when it picked up. All he knew was that it didn’t piss him off as much as it should’ve.

As the time neared for him to leave, she stopped him. A look of hesitance on her face as irritation seemed to grow on his own.

“What is it?”

“....Can I hold your face?”

“What?!”

“With gloves on!”

The statement caught him by surprise. Already he felt the disgusting voices in the back of his head whisper at him yet instead of acting on those voices he found himself mutely staring at her as she fumbled over her words.

All he could really pick out was the light blush that was on her cheeks. The spark of color that brought his feet towards her bedside as she stared up at him with shock in those (e/c) eyes.

“Tch. What are you waiting for?”

Caught off guard, she could only stare at him for a moment before giddily shifting herself to get off the bed. A noise of distaste left his throat at her motion as she merely rolled her eyes and shushed him as she went to fervently clean her hands before snapping on the gloves.

Yet as she did this he couldn’t help but feel the ache in his chest grow even more at the sight of her frail hands and the subtle appearance of a bruise around her wrist at her careless motion of snapping the gloves on. This was immediately forgone as she walked up to him, mindful to keep a distance before she hesitantly held her hands out in a flower cup motion.

At first, Kai had no idea what she was doing, but as he grew to analyze the situation-- as well as remember the odd videos and photos she decided to show him as she sought a sort of relationship herself-- he carefully put his chin into her hands. The hesitancy of her fingers brushing his cheeks pulled a new sort of fondness in his chest as he finally relaxed his cheek against her shy hand.

Golden eyes peered deeply into glimmering (e/c) as he watched her face light up with the most color he had see on her that day. Satisfied, he waited until she finally let go.

“...Thank you, Kai.”

“No problem.”

“No really...thank you...for everything.”

Unease quickly overtook the fondness in his heart as he straightened himself out. Confusion was clearly matted onto his features as he stared down at her.

“...Why are you saying that?”

“What? I can’t say what I want for once? You let me all the time so just let me say this too!”

Finding the whole situation uncomfortable, Kai made his way to the door once more. Though before he left he motioned with his head for her to get back into bed. In response, he got her usual snark as she stuck her tongue out before carefully getting back into bed.

“If you’re on good behavior tomorrow, I’ll have your doctor bring you that drink of yours.”

The light in her eyes was enough to satisfy him and his worries as she nodded quickly before giving him a mock salute as she excitedly got herself comfy in the bed.

“Alright, you promised Kai~!”

➽───────────────❥

“Who are you?”

It should’ve have hurt him as much as it did, but after 6 fucking months. 6 months of her being a daily part of his life where she did not forget him for a single moment came crashing down. The tremble that clutched tightly to his words as he re-introduced himself went unnoticed as he slowly made his way towards the lounge chair that was once considered to be (y/n)’s best friend’s chair.

“...My name is Chisaki Kai.”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

He could tell she was straining with keeping up a happy front. Her appearance was frail. So delicate that he feared anyone who touched her would be the cause of her disappearing before his eyes. The drink he had requested for her sat innocently on the bedside table as she gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s going to be okay...”

“...what?”

“You look...distressed, I wanted to just reassure you things will be okay.”

No they won’t. He wanted to scream it at her, that the rasp in her voice was punching holes into his gut. That the frail breathing she had was worse than his quirk being taken away from him.

And in that moment, they stayed in silence. Merely watching one another with mixed emotions before he broke back into the routine he once thought would be meaningless.

“...What did you do today?”

Her words, though slow, told him of a peaceful day. One with little adventures and many simple moments that he’s come to slowly appreciate in his own life.

Though as the hour of his leave came, he found it hard to get up from the chair. His feet staying practically cemented to the floor as he watched her peer out the window as the warm rays of the early evening sun cascaded over her. Much like it had that day he first saw her.

Forcefully pushing himself up from the chair, he made his way towards the door. Yet each step he took towards it the more the aching feeling in his chest grew as the fear of his last day in that room came to it’s due date.

“...Kai? Can you turn around for me...just once?”

The words caught him completely off guard as he turned to face her. Those eyes no longer were filed with guarded walls. Instead he was met with the face of (y/n). The woman he came to slowly adore within the past 6 months.

He didn’t even think. Instead he surged forward, practically bruising his legs at the force he decided to stop himself with. Though he didn’t care. The bruises be damned, she remembered him.

“...Can I hold your face? One more time? I promise I won’t ask again. I’ll even wear gloves!”

“...No need.”

The aching in his chest grew tenfold as he found it hard to speak. The overwhelming emotions that sat in his chest were ready to burst out of him. Though he wasn’t sure how. Instead he bent down slightly, finding her confused face even more endearing before he rolled his eyes.

“Well?”

“B-But...the hives---”

“I don’t care. Hurry the fuck up.”

Like that, the confusion vanished as she gently put her hands together in that familiar flower cup motion. Worry was clearly evident in her eyes as she looked at him, but before she could even question again he placed his chin into her awaiting hands. Already the prickly sensation of the hives began to pool as he could feel them form across his skin.

“K-Kai--”

“It’s fine. Shut up. You said you won’t ask again.”

“T-That’s true...”

“Tch. You can make it up to me by getting better so I can show you the world.”

“...when you’re not in prison anymore, right?”

“Right...”

It was hard to speak now. The lump that once was in his stomach had traveled to his throat as he watched her warm (e/c) glisten with unshed tears as she gently caressed his cheeks, ever so mindful of his hives as she tried to at least move her hands. Instead, the male pressed himself further into her touch as the tears began to fall. If anyone noticed the strain in his voice, they didn’t mention it.

“...If you’re gonna be greedy that do what you’ve been wanting to do you romantic obsessed moron.”

With that, she shifted forward before pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead as the tears came down harder. The lump in his throat making it almost unbearable to talk.

“...Thank you Kai...thank you so much for these six months...”

“.....”

“Don’t forget me...okay?”

“Idiot...as if I could even forget the one dumbass that made me breakout after my imprisonment.”

A weak laugh was given as she finally pulled away. With her eyes rimmed red, she shifted to make a call for a nurse, though that was cut short as Kai surprisingly climbed into her bed. No words were exchanged as she reluctantly shifted herself down into the bed-- though it did take time, she managed to curl herself in a way where she left distance between them.

“...aren’t you supposed to go?”

Featherlike and faint, he strained to hear her as he shifted himself down to properly face her as he melted in her (e/c) gaze. The slow dimming of life in her eyes was enough to tell him that it was time. However, he refused to believe it. If anything he’d find her awake the next day with that silly smile on her face. Yet even as he thought about this, the tears that he once thought were impossible for him, slowly began to stream down his cheeks as he nestled himself closer to her.

“....one day won’t kill them.”

“...mmm...”

“....go to sleep angel, I’ll be right here...”

“...and...you’ll be next to me?”

“...always.”

➽───────────────❥

Patient Name: (y/n) (l/n) Chisaki Quirk: Amnesiac

Time of Death: 6:05PM

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #overhaul x reader #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki x reader #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #mha imagines #bnha imagines #chisaki angst #we about to drop more angst in this bish #i know i should be working on wips and requests but i can't help it ksksksk

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rosesgonerogue · 5 years

Text

Death

Daminette December Day Thirteen

Warning: It’s straight angst, guys. I cried a lot writing this.

Hawkmoth was getting more dangerous as he got more and more desperate, and this time Marinette had fallen victim. She ran along the streets of Paris looking for a good place to transform, all the while clutching her stomach, red oozing out from between her fingers. There were enough injured people around her that she didn’t stand out, thankfully.

“Marinette, you have to go to the hospital!” Tikki said, trying to pull her in the opposite direction.

“No, I need to save Paris,” Marinette said grimly. “We have backup right now, but that doesn’t mean I can let this akuma keep wreaking havoc.”

“But if you transform, everyone will be healed but you!” Tikki cried. “We need you!”

“No, you need Ladybug, and you’ll find someone,” Marinette said solemnly. “Tikki, spots on.”

The transformation helped--it always made her feel stronger, but at the moment it felt the suit was slowing the bleeding. Ladybug swung through Paris with the same ease she always did. Being a hero made you a great actor, after all.

“This akuma’s got some crazy claws,” said a familiar voice from her right. Ladybug gave a tight smile. “Make sure you don’t get scratched, Kitty.”

“Don’t worry about me, Princess,’ the cocky blond said with a grin. “This will be a piece of cake.”

“Unwarranted confidence is the reason you’re always the first to fall victim to an akuma,” came the voice of Robin, simply appearing in that way of his.

The two began squabbling, which ordinarily annoyed Marinette to no end, but now it brought tears to her eyes. A small sob broke free, snapping both boys to attention.

“We’ll stop fighting, Princess, we’re really sorry,” Chat Noir said immediately. “Are you okay?”

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her stomach, but her hand tightened, the pain burning through her. “I… I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.”

A few tears fell, but Marinette was snapped out of it by a strong hand on her shoulder. Robin’s hand.

“I’m here for a while longer, there’s no need for goodbyes yet.”

Right, Robin would still be here to help take care of things for another month. They could probably find another Ladybug in that time frame. Things would continue on without her, they would be fine. It would be said, sure, leaving without a goodbye, but most people didn’t get one either.

So Ladybug straightened up and squared her shoulders. The city needed her right now, and she had to use what little time she had left wisely. She fought. Ladybug fought that day harder than she ever had before. She fought past the pain and emotions, fighting with the knowledge that this was her last fight, her last gift to Paris.

She didn’t falter once until she had cleansed the akuma, staggering backwards a step. Chat Noir looked concerned, but had to bound away before his identity was revealed.

Robin awkwardly stepped forward. “Are you okay, Ladybug?”

The girl took another wobbly step forward before collapsing into his arms.

“Ladybug? What’s wrong?”

“You have to get me somewhere private before I transform,” the girl said desperately. “Hawkmoth can’t… The Miraculous needs to stay safe.”

“I know the drill,” Damian said, hefting the girl into his arms. It was concerning, really, how little she weighed, but it was also not his concern.

The girl winced whenever he jostled her too much, which was curious. When they finally made it to a secluded alleyway, the girl was crying again. For whatever reason Damian found it deeply unsettling. Ladybug didn’t show fear, or pain, or… really, anything.

“Do you… Do you have your phone or something to record me? It will make sense, but this is really important,” Ladybug said from where she was slumped against a brick wall.

With a sigh, Damian followed the girl’s orders, setting his phone to record.

“Hello, everyone. It’s Ladybug, and this is me telling you all goodbye.”

Damian felt his heart stutter in his chest. Surely she didn’t mean…

“I was wounded before I transformed for this last fight, and the Miraculous Cure couldn’t save me this time.” She blinked, more tears tracing down her cheeks. Damian wanted nothing more than to run the superheroine to a hospital, but he also trusted her judgement enough to know that this was probably all that could be done.

“This is my last fight, but don’t be afraid. Don’t give Hawkmoth any more power than he already has. You’re stronger than that.”

Her earrings beeped one last time before the transformation timed out in a flash of light, leaving a bloody teenager slumped before him.

Damian felt his world crash around him when he recognized Marinette Dupain-Cheng before him, the very reason he’d taken this particular assignment. They’d met months before, and she was quickly turning into someone he’d known and loved.

She was crying freely now. “I need to say goodbye to my friends and family, and I’m sorry. Live happy lives for me. I love you all, especially you, Mom and Dad. I… I didn’t want to leave you. Just… Just don’t lose hope, okay? Trust each other, be kind to each other.”

Her breathing was laboured now. “Paris is strong. I fought for you because I believe in you.”

Damian stopped recording, immediately diving to her side. “I’m taking you to a hospital, you need--”

“It’s too late, Damian,” she interrupted, closing her eyes in pain. “You’re the one I’m most sorry to, I never was fair.”

“How do you… That doesn’t matter right now, I’m getting--”

“I love you,” she said, crying even harder. Her hands shook as she took off her earrings, pressing them into his hand. “I needed to say it at least once. I love you, Damian Wayne, and I trust you more than anyone else in the world.”

He sprinted as fast as his legs would take him to the nearest hospital, but it wasn’t fast enough, it never would have been. He was never the person meant to save Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but only time would tell if he was the person meant to finish what she had started.

Taglist: @daminette-december2019 @cravethosecrazysquares @krispydefendorpolice @thesunanditsangel @sonif50 @kris-pines04 @persephonebutkore @tbehartoo @corabeth11 @caffeinetheory @drarryismylife101 @bluerosette23 @weird-pale-blonde-person @mystery-5-5 @heaven428 @thethirdwheelfriend @thetinymoonflower @interobanginyourmom @chocolate1721 @akana-sama @skyel0ve @katiegardneriscoolerthanyou

So, yeah... This was a thing that happened. Sorry? A lot of this is probably just me projecting about a recent death in my family... Happy Friday the Thirteenth.

Anyway, in other news at the moment it’s looking like I’ll be starting the Jasonette fic for my 100+ followers thing, but y’all can still vote on that if you’re so inclined. You don’t have to be tagged to vote, and if you ever want to be added to the taglist, just let me know.

#maribat #maridami #daminette #daminette december

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vivxwrites · 5 years

Text

Lovers Quarrel

*not my gif*

Word Count: 1625

Warning(s): None? Some injuries. Ca:cw spoilers (lol)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: hi! i sincerely apologize for the wait so here’s this! It was requested by an anon here and i hope whoever that whoever it was gets to read it!

The scene painted out before you reminded your idle mind of those that occurred during the times of ancient history, tales recorded on wooden tablets and later translated into a world of empires and invasions. Tales of kings and commanders and armies, tales of power struggles and barbaric actions. Where city-states were just barely discovering copper and iron and steel and metal and where one-hundred-year-old super soldiers didn’t magically freeze and thaw out, only to wake up seventy something years later. Where there was no Iron Man, or Hawkeye, and where there were certainly no Black Widows. No Black Widows that slowly extended their long legs over your heart and nestled down deep, deep enough to just nearly become one with the genetic coding of the cells that made up one of the most vital organs in your body. You furtively wished that you weren’t part of the timeline filled with superhumans and ex-Russian assassins and men that flew around in suits engineered by a certain genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

Despite your desperate wishes here you were, lined up in an airport hanger with half of the avengers that you had chosen to align yourself with. Across from you stood your friends, your family, and your- well, you weren’t quite sure what exactly Natasha was to you.

You could feel her eyes fixated on you, and whether fury or concern were being directed at you, you weren’t too sure, especially seeing as you refused to even flick your own eyes in her general direction.

Her tiny huff of annoyance didn’t go unnoticed by you and you cursed whatever government officials deemed the Accords an appropriate measure of action. If splitting the Avengers into two was the reaction they were oh so kindly hoping to achieve, then their overpriced bottles of champagne were most certainly cork-less by now.

Your whole body ached with the primal need to see the love and adoration that you had grown used to in the now familiar jade-green eyes of one Natasha Romanoff. Your bones had long since endured the weight of sorrow and regret and by this point, the precipice of this protracted conflict, you were feeling the full weight and brunt of a word solely known as exhaustion.

You were pulled from your period of self-awareness by the start of the fight, the war, between two forces that had been nearly unstoppable when combined. What the outcome would be, you hadn’t the slightest clue and you were whole-heartedly not looking forward to finding out.

And so you did your best to avoid the stunning red-head who made your head swim with thoughts that you were definitely not supposed to be thinking while tossing punches at some guy in a panther suit. As the battle dragged on, however, you were unpleasantly forced to find out that your attempts to avoid that certain someone were meaningless.

She looked as good as ever in her sleek combat gear and good god what you wouldn’t give to smash your body against hers in a hug tight enough to crack the pistachio nuts you had deemed ‘breakfast’ just this morning.

“(Y/N).” She spoke with a tone of indifference and you flinched at the fact that it was being directed at you. Of course you felt immense guilt for not sticking by Natasha’s side but how could you when your beliefs lay with the opposite team? How could you sit back and sign a contract that basically handed over your freedom and everything that you had worked so very hard to achieve when you were something of a Hydra experiment yourself? How could you possibly be able to sign your life away to the sleazy, wrinkly men that called themselves the American Government when you had been in Bucky’s shoes not too long ago? And if you had deserved a chance to change then god fucking dammit so did he.

Needless to say, this was the biggest lovers quarrel in history.

“Nat,” you bit down hard on your lip in an attempt to stop its trembling, “I-“

Thought you loved me, you wanted to say, thought you would understand how much this meant to me, thought you would stand up for me. Your throat bobbed up and down as you swallowed the vowels and consonants of the phrases thickly, their bitter aftertaste more unpleasant than that of the tangy salt water that she made you gargle when you got sick.

You could only stare wordlessly at Nat and she, you. The entire fucked up situation made you feel sick, a constant state of unsettlement rushing through your veins alongside the anger and hatred that you felt for the so-called ‘higher ups.’ And then finally, Clint, bless that man, intervened and off he and Nat went, twisting and turning as if they were the cats and dogs you used to mindlessly watch on television when a nightmare of yours was particularly bad.

The telltale shink of Steve’s shield meeting its target had you cringing inwardly. You heard him holler your name and off into the fray you went, ducking under a stray metal suit and jumping over the cracks in the concrete that made up the hanger.

“Cap. You called?” You dragged your gaze from him to the hulk of a man next to him and as hard as the soldier tried to remain stoic, you saw the guilty look that hid away in the top corner of his eyes.

“Buck and I need to get to that hanger over there, can you cover us?” When Steve spoke, your gaze remained on Bucky. You gave him a small, reassuring smile before turning back to Steve.

“It’s what I do best, Captain.” He nodded stiffly and you could tell that something was bothering him. “What? You worried about lil ‘ol me or something?”

He sighed deeply, “You know Natasha would kill me if you get hurt.”

You felt your nostrils flare in annoyance, “Natasha’s not exactly here right now, is she?” Of course that wasn’t one hundred percent true but from what you could see of her, flashes of red and black every so often, it seemed she was quite busy with problems of her own.

“(Y/N)-“

“Steve please. Do you want my help getting across this airport or not?” He finally nodded again and you nodded back.

The three of you took off towards the destination and were about halfway there when the sound of thrusters drew nearer. You cursed to yourself and kept running until Tony dropped down in front of you, the face-plate on his mask retracted as if he wanted the three of you to see just how angry he really was.

“Stark,” You drawled, “how nice to see you.”

“You too sweetheart.” He growled and you sneered at him.

You waved Steve and Bucky forward, signaling that you could handle Tony. They threw you reluctant looks before finally taking off. “You don’t want to tango with me hun.”

A self-satisfied smirk crawled onto your face, “Oh but I do.”

He fired a blast at you and you dodged with a perfectly placed combat roll, positioning yourself behind some loading crates. When Tony flew closer to you, you reached up and clamped your arm onto the arm of his suit and held tight as he swore and flew about, trying to knock you off. When bucking you about like a bronco didn’t work he retracted the faceplate again and smirked at you, “Hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

Tony flew skyward and you held on with all the upper body strength you had as he reached a dangerous height, wherein if you fell you wouldn’t necessarily die, but the impact wouldn’t be the nicest experience.

Your arms burned with the exertion of holding your body weight up and you could feel your fingers beginning to slip on the cool metal of the suit.

“Rhodes, get ready to catch this lovely package.” After Tony’s statement your grip finally gave out and you went tumbling to the ground, a view of smoke and the blue cloud-ridden sky accompanying you.

Rhodey was nowhere to be seen as you fell, ten feet left, then five, until you landed on the ground with a sickening crunch and pain shot up your spine. You tried to scream in agony but the sound wouldn’t come out, as if your vocal chords themselves were feeling the vibrations of the tight, coiling pain.

Distantly you could hear screams and yelling but you couldn’t make out whom the sounds belonged to. Your eyelids felt heavy and your body twisted and writhed every which way on the ground in an attempt to fight the pain in your system. The ground shook with the approaching footsteps of someone but then again you were too out of it to comprehend if it was instead the violent shaking of your spine beneath you that you were feeling.

“Moya lyubov,” Nat panted desperately and reached over to cup your cheeks in her warm hands, “are you okay?”

“Nat,” you cried, “M’ sorry baby.”

She shushed you and leaned down to press her forehead against yours, the first few tears rushing down her face, “Shh. No, (Y/N), honey it’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered desperately. “I’m so sorry.”

“Baby please, stay with me. Keep your eyes open for me.” Her voice sounded distant even with her close proximity and your eyelids were just so heavy and you could feel yourself giving in, succumbing to the black just visible at the edge of your vision. You took one last peak at Natasha until you finally closed your eyes.

When you woke up you were all alone, cuffed to a hospital bed in an unfamiliar room.

A/N: Listen, I don’t know what this is or why I have inserted some weird world history shit into the fic but please just accept it for what it is. I’m satisfied as hell that I managed to throw this together and have it out to y’all by today so I beg of you to be proud of me for finally putting out some content, regardless of its questionable grammar and spelling and odd facts. Have I done good or have I done goofed, please let me know. Love always, Viv <3

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dorkyungsoowrites · 5 years

Text

Riddles & Realizations

Pairings: Kyungsoo x You

Genre: Fluff/Smut? | 100 Days My Prince AU

Warnings: None

Word Count: 8.3k

Description: The prince just came of age, but refuses to follow the traditions associated. Will you get through to the stubborn prince, change his mind, or will it all stay a game of words?

A/N: This is a few weeks late, but thank you for 500 followers. No idea why so many people want to stay around my inconsistent ass, but I deeply appreciate it. I’ve met so many wonderful people through this and I love y’all. So here’s this. It’s set before the events of the show because the prince was cold and clever and loved his word games haha. Hope you enjoy.

First was the escort. Five ladies in waiting and three guards walked you through the enormous palace. Leading you to a section you'd never entered before. It was far more intimidating than you remembered. Up close it seemed like it was an endless labyrinth of hallways and rooms. It was rather unsettling and foreboding even though it was surrounded by immaculately trimmed gardens and sweet smelling flowers.

Next was the bath. Two of the ladies stayed with you to wash and groom you. Jars of oils and soaps lined an entire side of the large square tub. The water had roses in it, but you couldn't properly enjoy its calming properties while the servants brushed and scrubbed you harshly. You weren't going to let a little rough treatment ruin your one night of luxury, however. Closing your eyes and taking deep breaths. Allowing the sweet fragrance to fill your senses while the soap was combed from your hair. Listening to the soft whispers of the servants gossip behind you.

"I hope the prince accepts this one."

"Well he has to, doesn't he? Look at how beautiful she is."

"You said that about the last girl."

"But this is different. His father isn't going to let the prince go unpunished if he doesn't consummate his manhood tonight."

"I suppose." You opened your eyes as the more chipper girl tapped your shoulder lightly. Beaming a bright smile at you.

"Don't listen to her, my lady. You're very lucky to be chosen. The prince has grown up to be very handsome."

"So I hear," you smiled back politely. The other woman finished combing your hair and poured a basin of fresh water over it to rinse the strands. Adding,

"He's also an egotistical jerk."

"I heard that as well."

"Shh," the first woman rushed. "If he hears you said that you'll be flogged."

"It's alright. I won't tell," you assured. When you stood she came over with a towel. You took it and stepped out of the warm bath. Beginning to dry yourself while they tidied and prepared your change of clothes. "By the way, please, I'm no noble. You don't need to address me formally." As you wrung out your hair you felt a pair of eyes on you. Glancing to see the upbeat servant with reddened cheeks as she swallowed thickly. Gaze sticking to you like she could picture your bodies entwined together.

"The prince is very lucky indeed," she muttered. You smiled and lowered your voice.

"Perhaps you wish to hire me as well, my lady?" She quickly shook her head and cast her eyes to the floor.

"I-I dare not."

"If I'm not being too forward," the other woman cut in. Taking your towel in exchange for undergarments. You denied them and slipped the robe that went under the actual dress on instead. "Are you happy to have this honor?"

"Honor," you scoffed. "Have either of you shared a mans bed who has no experience?" They shook their heads. The one who asked motioning for you to lift your arms. Both of them tying on the top and bottom pieces of your dress respectively. "It's a few minutes of awkward thrusting until he finishes. There's no mutual pleasure with a virgin. No excitement. I was hired to do a job. I intend to do it right, but it's no special event for me. This wonderful bath will probably be the highlight of my evening at the palace. Especially if his highness turns out to be as loathsome and sadistic as I hear he is. So thank you for that. I am very grateful. You both are marvelous women." They both smiled bashfully, bowing.

"You're welcome."

The last touch was the hair. Carefully braiding it down your back. An elegant glass dove pin tucked behind your ear. Every inch of you was scrubbed and polished to perfection. You were primped and prepared for your night with the prince. Your hands hidden by the long sleeves, you followed your escorts to the prince's quarters. They announced you, and you kept your head lowered as you entered. He dismissed the servants. The doors shut behind you. The footsteps fading as the extra four left you alone. Now only the required two guards and one handmaiden left hovering out of earshot outside. Knowing the prince had a reputation for a bad temper you stayed quiet. His feet came into view. Covered in fine white linen. Then he began circling you. The heat of his gaze nothing unfamiliar to you.

"If you're expecting anything to transpire tonight you would be an idiot," he spoke resolutely. As he came back to your front he stopped. "You'll tell my father you accomplished your job in the morning and I'll be sure you're well compensated for your discretion." That made you raise your head, eyes wide. He would cheat his family like that? Scorn tradition so easily? Neglect the needs of the future princess? He was not only headstrong, it seemed. He was also a fool.

"With all respect, your highness, I refuse." His posture stiffened, one eyebrow arching on his forehead.

"It wasn't an offer."

"Nonetheless; I still refuse."

"You have quite the mouth on you for a woman of your standing." He didn't expect you to have a moral compass apparently. He was so sure his first plan would work he had made no other.

"I was sent here to teach you how to properly pleasure your future wife." The young man sneered and turned away. You decided to push a little further. Find out why he detested the idea so you could work around it. Sifting through the most likely options. Voice meek. "If it's more...unique things you desire, I can fulfill those wishes as well. Perhaps my prince will become properly aroused if I were punished? Or would prefer a...different companion to join us? Possibly one with more...masculine parts?" The young man whirled on you, robes twirling around his legs at the action. Glare burning through you.

"How dare you insinuate such a thing, you insulate little--you're nothing but rented goods. Do you understand how disgusted I feel at the thought of sleeping with some random whore? I should have your life for that remark." Ah, so there it was. You were 'unclean'. A filthy degenerate. Spoiled. You folded your hands in front of you and bowed. Calm and assured now that you had an answer.

"I'm very sorry, your highness. I meant no offense. If it is that simple I have a suggestion, if you would allow." When he made no protest, glare softening to intrigue, you continued. "You need not sleep with me. Only listen to my instruction. You won't have to strip anything away or touch me, I get my job done, and neither of us need lie come dawn."

"You...you can do that?" he questioned quietly. You let a practiced smile grace your features.

"For you, I can do anything." He scoffed in disapproval of your words. You were unfazed. "May I use your bed?" He seemed to contemplate a moment. You walked over anyway. Brushing past him so he was behind you, and stood in front of the large, soft mat on the floor. Silken and stuffed with the finest feathers, no doubt. You untied the two pieces of your borrowed dress. Letting the material fall. Pushing the layer underneath off just as soon as it did. Leaving you bare. You stretched and moaned happily. "I hate these stuffy outfits you nobles wear. It feels good to get that off." Just as you were about to lower yourself his voice halted you.

"Wait. I read where things can become...messy," his voice wavered the tiniest bit. Making you smirk. This was the fun part; seeing the young, inexperienced men fluster and tremble at the sight of you. Watching the innocence drain from their eyes as they took you. Counting the seconds that passed for them to come undone once they were inside you. And this little prince had done some research. How cute. "Sit on that cushion." When you looked he pointed at a plush red pillow to the side of where he slept. You obeyed and brought it over to the side of his bed. Swaying your hips as you walked, and then sat down. Legs folded beside you to keep modesty for the time being. The prince was containing his nerves well. As any royal should know how to do. You gestured to his bed with your hand, smiling kindly.

"Please, sit comfortably." Again, he hesitated. Dark brown eyes flitting over the curves of your body. You took the pause to finally look at him properly. He was truly handsome like all the rumors said. Young with innocent, round eyes and thick lips. But everything else about him screamed royal. The ornate pin in his hair, his flawlessly clean and pressed white robes, his smooth, golden skin. But especially the lack of happiness. The ever present blank expression and hardened tone. The clipped commands. He had grown up a stifled child. Forced to study and practice with no regard for fun. You always felt pity for those souls trapped in the palace. Hopefully you could help bring some pleasure into his otherwise boring existence of politics and studying. To ease his nerves you added, "and please, if you feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed at any point you can tell me your highness. I'll stop right away. We can take a break and enjoy some tea. There's no rush."

"I've been uncomfortable since you entered my room," he responded.

"I see." With that you stood and wrapped the first layer of your dress around you. Just so you were covered enough to go to the door. The prince's eyes widened in alarm, catching your arm before you reached it. Grip firm and voice threatening.

"What do you think you're doing?" You brushed off his hand.

"Relax, your highness. I'm going to ask them to bring tea." He stood in stunned silence as you cracked open the door and motioned for the handmaid. Keeping most of yourself blocked from view. Your head and shoulder the only thing the guards might see if they tried to look. The chipper servant from the bath skittered over swiftly. She quickly took in your appearance then waited for you to speak, color creeping up her cheeks. You found it adorable. She had seen you totally nude yet she was still flustered. You suppose it was because of the implications of what was going on inside the prince's room. You lifted her chin to meet your eyes with a delicate touch and smiled. "Would you please go fetch us a pot of tea?"

"W-what kind?"

"So thoughtful of you to ask," you cooed before taking your hand from her chin. "Black, with a bit of ginger and honey added if you can manage it. Thank you." The woman grinned.

"I'll return shortly." Then she turned and left. Your chest lightened after she did not call you formally or bow. Shutting the door then turning to see the prince. His face a twist of confusion and wonder. You took two steps into the room before his voice stopped you.

"You should have scolded her for not showing respect."

"It would have made me uncomfortable. I am after all, as you said, a random whore." Your eyes cut through him as you sauntered past, turning left into a different area of his room. There was an ornate partition hiding a rack by the wall filled with luxurious clothes. You scanned through for a softer material. Spotting a deep blue robe among his nightwear. You dropped the fabric from around you and took a hold of the older robe. Not firmly pressed so the prince could sleep in comfort. Pulling your arms through then cinching the tie around the waist lazily.

"What are you doing?" He demanded from behind you. You returned to the area with his bed.

"I could tell my state of dress made you uncomfortable so I found something suitable." You sat cross-legged on the cushion, the long robe covering your form.

"What was wrong with the dress loaned to you?"

"If you do not see the problem with that infernal dress then I don't know what to say." He scowled and went to snatch the piece from his closet floor, coming back to you. He was about to chuck it in your face, but watched as his fingers felt the fabric instead. Face relaxing as it scratched and irritated his skin. He dropped it with a disgusted noise then sat on his bed cushion across from you with a practiced grace. After a moment of silence you decided on a more friendly approach to get through his walls. "Did your highness enjoy his reading today?"

"How do you know about my affairs?"

"You mentioned reading on the intricacies of sex. It's not too far to assume you enjoy reading many manners of texts." You quirked the corner of your mouth up. Prepared to tease him. "Unless the crown prince only enjoys erotic novels past his studying requirements."

"You're a terrible woman, you know that?" You chuckled softly, surprising him.

"I can be whatever you need me to be, your highness."

"Stop saying that."

"Why?" The prince's words caught in his throat, lips parted to speak. Yet nothing came out at first. Shocked someone had questioned his orders. That you weren't intimidated. You imagined it was the first time someone under him had spoken as such to him in a long time. But you believed he needed that every once and a while. To remind him he was human too. Not above everyone just because of his lineage.

"Because..." His voice trailed. Studying you closely. You remained undisturbed with a politely neutral expression. Not quite smiling, but not blank either. A look you rested into naturally after so long practicing it. You were used to men staring at you. Even if his eyes in particular were rather intense. It was nothing out of the ordinary. The way the excitement pumped through your veins at the attention, however, was not. You saw a spark ignite behind his eyes as he thought of something. "Because, I could take advantage of that kind of generous offer. I could decide to only address you as my whore, or even cattle. I could treat you like a punching dummy. Is that what you want?"

"You might be surprised by the various desires of clients that come to our brothel, my prince. It is not so uncommon to find a man aroused by violence visiting the establishment. I don't think you are of that ilk however. A man like you..." You tilted your head slightly. Focused solely on him. "So distant from the world outside these walls. Lonely. So stifled. There is no doubt in my mind you have repressed the more...carnal side of yourself. Your sexual desires hidden away in some dark corner of your mind. Pushed aside for what you deem more important matters. Who has time for the cravings of the body when you have court politics to thread your way through? Of course your dedication to your country is honorable, but the way you neglect your personal pleasure...saddens me."

"What? Do you feel pity for me?" he asked disdainfully.

"Yes, very much so. Your highness. A man of your age should want to...relieve himself, shall we say, yet you turn away the last four women to visit you. It's obvious you're denying yourself to spite tradition and ceremony. To what end, I won't pretend to know. Nor will I pry on personal matters. I will give my opinion, however little that matters to you. I think you are...admirable. Because if we're being honest, I find the tradition of forcing sons to have sex when they come of age to be deplorable. Perhaps studying on the subject so that when the time comes they'll be ready, but no one should be forced into this. No matter the age, rank or gender. Sex should be about equal pleasure for both partners. It's not just for making children." There was a gap where he didn't know how to respond. Questioning your sincerity with his eyes. Doubting and doubling over the statement in his head. Contemplating whether scolding you for inappropriate speech was the correct course or not. So you filled the silence with more, less political talk before he could decide. "I recently read a fun book on riddles. Would you like to hear one?" The prince continued to stare blankly. So you began. "I have a head but no body, a heart but no blood. Just leaves and no branches, I grow without wood. What am I?" His eyebrows came together slightly. Distracted from your previous words by this new question. After a few seconds his features relaxed and quietly answered,

"Lettuce." You widened your smile just a bit.

"Very good, your highness. Riddles require a clever, sharp mind. It's rare I entertain those with such talents. Let's do another one. I am rarely touched but often held, and if you are smart you'll use me well. What am I?" You thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward, but it was gone the moment you blinked.

"A tongue. I've heard that one before." So he liked boasting about his intelligence, you mused. Of course he did. You smirked. That would be to your advantage that night. Surely he wouldn't refuse a game around the idea.

"Alright, then how about a harder one your highness? To test your cleverness. If you can't think of the solution before the tea arrives then you won't complain the rest of the night and be a good student while I give your lesson."

"And when I find the answer?"

"If that happens," you emphasized. "Then I'll set your alibi and make certain your secret is preserved. No bribe required." He nodded for you to continue. Confident in his abilities. Falling right where you wanted him. "A merchant has a fox, a rabbit, and a cabbage sitting on the edge of a river. He has a small raft that can carry only himself and one item at a time, but without his supervision the fox will eat the rabbit, and the rabbit will eat the cabbage. How can he successfully transport all of the items from one side of the river to the other without losing anything?" The prince's eyebrows pinched together again in thought.

"How can a cabbage possibly take up as much room as a fox or a rabbit on the raft? It seems like he could carry two at a time."

"That's not the point," you chuckled. "It's just a fun puzzle. You can do it."

"Don't patronize me. And quit laughing. There's nothing amusing about this." You tamped down your grin as much as you could.

"Apologies, your highness." With that, you folded your hands in your lap and waited. The prince looked around the room as he concentrated, sometimes mumbling the possible solution under his breath as he worked through the scenarios in his mind. Shaking his head when he realized it was wrong. He was quite expressive, you thought to yourself. Slight shifts or twitches in his facial muscles telling you a different story from the prince you first encountered whose expressions were disinterested and cold. It was amusing and rather endearing. You wondered how his face might contort as his cock entered a woman for the first time. Would he bite that soft looking bottom lip? Or would his jaw go slack while his eyes glazed over? Maybe he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes open at all, and squeeze them shut tight as the sensation overwhelmed him.

Which lead your thoughts to wondering other things as well. Like his actions as he came. Would he simply bunch the blankets beneath his hands into fists? Maybe he'd grab at any part of you he could; your hips or your waist or your legs. Perhaps he would even enjoy overstimulating himself. Not stopping his thrusts even after he finishes. Maybe they were shallow or deep, but he wouldn't want to pull away. Not until he couldn't stand it anymore.

Then your mind wandered to his moans. Would he be a silent lover? Vocalization reserved for the rare soft grunts and the choked out, breathy groan as he finished. Or maybe he was really noisy. Every gasp punctuated by a small moan or airy whimper. If you teased him enough would you get to hear him whine? Begging you to let him cum as sweat rolled down his neck. Would you ever get to hear that attractive, deep voice of his lose all it's weight and stutter leaving his mouth? Fragile and needy, and oh so fucking gorgeous. Then again perhaps he was in between. Or enjoyed talking and taunting throughout. Voice smoky and demanding as he told you how tight and amazing you felt. Commanding you into different positions so he could enjoy every angle of your body. Cursing at you to tell him how much you enjoyed getting fucked by him. You felt like squirming in your seat just at the thought of it. His lips breathing dirty, sweet things into your skin. His tongue drawing explicit, salacious promises of satisfaction around your curves and between the folds of your now aching core.

Fuck. You wanted to have sex with the crown prince.

Three light raps on the door caught both of your attention. The servant was back with the tea. And his highness had yet to solve your riddle.

"You can enter!" you called out over your shoulder. You heard shuffling feet and a tray was placed between the prince and you. A pot of tea, two cups, and a small bowl on the side filled with honey.

"It's black, but I added some flecks of ginger like you wanted," she informed you. "I hope it's to your liking. I-I wasn't sure how much was enough." You smiled gratefully up at her. Her head was bowed, face pink as she saw you dressed in the prince's clothing. Doing her best not to stare.

"I'm sure it will be delicious. This is exactly what I needed. Thank you so much. You can leave for the night."

"Actually you're not allowed to--"

"Hush," you silenced toward the prince quickly to stop him. He gawked at you. Eyes wide in disbelief. "She was assigned to help me so I can choose to dismiss her. Go on. It's alright, I promise. Enjoy a good nights rest. You've earned it."

"Th-thank you." The woman bowed deeply and backed out of the room. The doors were shut one last time. Your smile faded back to neutral as you poured the tea. Filling both of your cups with a mastered finesse. The color that of honey itself. A beautiful, rich amber filling the cups.

Most of your job was simply hosting customers. Conversation, tea, sometimes even brushing and braiding their hair. Making them feel cared for and comfortable. Perhaps you'd be able to release that golden pin from the prince's head later and run your fingers or a brush through his long, silken locks. He would look even more gorgeous than he did in that moment with his midnight black hair to frame his face, you think. Perhaps all pushed to one side. Leaving space for your lips to brush the side of his slender neck. To reach around his figure. Your digits sliding under his robes to grasp his aroused length and stroke him slowly.

"If I were annoyed I could hold you in contempt of the crown." The prince's voice snapped you out of your daydreams. You felt a bit of heat reach your cheeks as you witnessed the prince smirking at you. You couldn't help but want him on top of you when he looked like that. "But I'm more impressed. You're smarter than I originally thought." You diverted your gaze to the dish on the tray. Trying to contain your smile at the small flattery.

"Would you like honey in your tea your highness?"

"Why this tea? You could have chosen anything." His smirk was gone, but you still felt its effects. Dripping a few globs of the amber liquid into your cup as you answered.

"Black tea helps with stress, and the ginger helps blood circulation. It makes it...easier to become aroused."

"And the honey?" It was your turn to smirk and play with him. Tease him. It's what some say you do best. Wiping the edge of the honey dish with your index finger to stop it from making a mess.

"I love the taste of sweet things." You brought that same finger between your lips. Watching the prince's eyes darken and flicker to the action as you licked and sucked it clean. Making sure there was no residual stickiness. His tongue running along his lips as if he could taste the honey himself. When you were done you raised your cup to your lips. Letting the hot liquid wash over your tongue before swallowing.

"Were they nobles?" The sudden question caught you off guard. The prince must have seen the confusion on your face because he clarified. "Your parents. Were they noble? Your attitude tells me no other background could be suited to you."

"Ah, no," you answered calmly. "My father was a royal guard and my mother a servant."

"So I was right to assume they're gone."

"Yes, your highness. They were killed years ago for serving the wrong masters. I found any work I could, if you must know the story of how I came to be here. No one trusts the daughter of the bastards that served a traitor to the crown." His eyes widened again. Recognizing who you spoke of. His fingers clutching his robes for a few moments. The air was heavy suddenly. A tension you wished to be rid of. You imagined it was a sore subject for the prince. It was how his father came to be king after all. He grew up knowing the ones who betrayed his family. His eyes carrying a deep sadness behind the revelation. "Do you distrust me now, your highness?"

"No," he breathed out quickly. Shaking his head. "No, that was..." he took a few seconds to regain his composure. Posture relaxing some. "Were you there that night?"

"No your highness." You sipped your tea. "I would be dead if that were the case." The prince hummed in agreement. Gaze falling to his drink. He reached out and gingerly took the cup to his lips. Staring into the golden liquid after drinking some. "Enough glum," you chimed. "Is the tea to your liking?"

"It's bitter."

"Would you like to try mine?" You offered the cup with both hands. The prince looked at it warily before setting his cup down. He took yours and sipped. Eyes sliding closed. Sighing softly after swallowing. You wondered if he would moan with how he seemed to enjoy it. He drank once more. Adams apple bobbing as he took in a larger amount. When he lowered the cup his eyes fluttered open. Staring deeply into you. "Delicious, isn't it my prince?" You took the pot and refilled both cups with tea and honey. Licking your finger clean again. He continued to observe you over the rim of his cup with a dream-like focus. Like his thoughts were elsewhere. Waiting until you had finished drinking the entire cup to speak again.

"I did not solve your riddle, and I'm a man of my word. So this lesson; what does it require of me?" You both set your empty tea cups on the tray.

"Only that you listen. Although, if your highness would permit it I would like to brush your hair. It may seem like an odd request, but I find it relaxing for both parties, and it helps you focus on something else if you become too distracted."

"Distracted? By what?"

"Your imagination of course. I can't have you fantasizing about sleeping with some girl, or any other court issue while I'm trying to teach you." He accepted your explanation. Nodding once before reaching up. He pulled the pin from his bun then lifted the brace from around it. Setting the adornments on the tray next to the honey. Only the cloth tie loosely keeping his hair in place now. His fingers fumbled only a moment before he was able to pull that free as well. Putting it with the pin. His hair cascaded down like a waterfall made of the night sky. Reaching down to his chest. Two bumps interrupting the otherwise straight fall from being tied all day. A silken black curtain to accentuate his ethereal beauty.

"To your right there's a room with a desk," he instructed. "Get the brush from there." You obeyed. Coming back to kneel behind him. The brush had a gold inlayed handle with ornate carvings of nature on the back of the wood. You set it beside you for now. The first thing was to section it off. Your fingers reaching to gently gather the stray locks from around his face. He caught your wrist. "If you try anything funny I'll have you punished."

"Yes, yes," you replied dismissively. "I understand your highness. Don't worry. I promise to do my best so you're comfortable." He released you and you separated his hair into two sections. Then threaded your fingers through. It was so incredibly soft. Unscathed by dirt and harsh weather and age. You began to massage his scalp. Feeling the tension in the back of his neck as your fingertips moved in tiny circles. "It's alright to relax sometimes, you know," you mumbled. "The majority of my patrons don't ever desire sex, did you know that? People come to me to lighten their burdens. Drink tea, eat sweets, have conversation; to be doted upon."

"People willingly tell their secrets to a stranger?" he questioned curiously.

"It's amazing how one will open up if they feel you care."

"And you keep these secrets?"

"Of course."

"You never sell information?"

"Don't insult me," you chuckled. "Although I understand why you would think that with all of the things I know about what goes on in the palace. With my position in society. However I am happiest when I see someone leaving my care feeling lighter and more cheerful. It's not much, but I'm content with my role in the world." He was silent. You stopped massaging and combed through the two sections a few times. Making them neat again. "The first thing you should know," you began to teach. The prince sat with his hands calmly in his lap listening to you. "Is that all those erotic books you might have read were all written by men who have no idea of how to please a woman. You can't trust anything they say, so forget it all."

"Yes," he acknowledged shortly. Accepting your words as truth. It made you smile the tiniest bit.

"To be sure you do not hurt your future wife during her first time there are things you'll need to do." You took up his brush. The left section of his hair in your other hand. Then began bringing the bristles through slowly. Leisurely working your way from the ends up. "The more aroused she is, the wetter she'll become down there. That wetness is what makes everything easy and comfortable. Every woman has different preferences on what might arouse her. So listen to her and what her body says, and always be gentle. Sometimes the lightest touch brings about the biggest reaction. Perhaps a kiss on the neck, breasts or thighs. I always recommend you use your mouth on a woman before entering her for her first time."

"Use my...mouth?"

"Between her legs, your highness. You did study the anatomy of a woman in your books, did you not?"

"...I did."

"Good. Use your tongue, your lips. Find--well, to avoid discomfort let's call it a sweet spot. Use that to stimulate her. If you start with that you'll already be leagues ahead of any other man. Most men fuck like dogs. No grace. No skill. A few dozen thrusts and done. You need to be patient. Give her time. Your cock shouldn't go near her until she's slick from arousal. If she's ready, then you can go inside, but slowly. Don't jam it in like you're spearing a boar. Pause if she needs it. There are a lot of muscles that need to relax and stretch to accommodate the new intrusion. If she says it hurts, you're doing it wrong. Don't believe anyone that tells you otherwise."

"What does it feel like?" His voice was lower. Wistful almost. "For you, I mean. What does it feel like to have...you know...?" You continued to keep your focus on brushing his hair. Moving to the right section. Pausing your lesson to think of an answer.

"Like...finally being full after a lifetime of not realizing you were empty. Like there's a pressure deep in your gut spreading through your body, and every time his hips meet yours you're driven closer to madness." It was a flowery description, but not entirely untrue.

"That sounds tiresome." A small smile grew on your lips.

"Shall we return to the lesson my prince?"

"No. I understand. Gentle, light, slow."

"After her first time you won't need to be as careful. You'll grow to learn what your wife desires. It all comes quite naturally once you begin. No need to worry."

"When you finish brushing my hair you'll return to whatever dirty hovel you crawled out from," he ordered.

"If you wish it, your highness. Know only that by not waiting longer tongues will be sent wagging around the palace of your lack of stamina."

"If that's all they can use their time for then I will replace them with people who can fulfill their duties properly. Petty gossip does not concern a prince." The reply was quick, but not quick enough to let you believe he meant it. Slowing your actions down instead to draw out the time with him.

"Petty gossip is the commonfolks preferred pass-time, your highness. I would not snub it so easily. Wielded correctly it can be a great weapon."

"Against what?"

"Anyone the wielder deems sufficient. Planted in the right minds and ears, gossip can topple entire kingdoms."

"Such as?"

"Such as a rumor that a prince has not consummated his marriage to a princess." There was a long silence. You couldn't see his face, but you imagined he was working up the nerve. Then the prince nodded.

"You may stay until I tire."

"Of course your highness. Thank you. I know this entire ordeal has made you very uncomfortable and tense, but I will try my best to ease some of that before my departure." Another silence until you realized something. "I never told you the solution to that riddle. Would--"

"Don't," he refused shortly. "I'll figure it out." He was stubborn, but he was intelligent. You had no doubt he'd find the answer on his own.

"Yes your highness." With that you finished going through his hair with the brush. Tucking it behind his ears and laying it flat down his back. Fingertips catching the stray hairs and smoothing them down. Noticing with a secretive smile that chills raised on the back of his neck. Then you returned the ornate brush to its home and sat in front of the prince once more. "Would you care for more tea?" He nodded. You prepped the two cups as you had before and handed him the warm, sweet liquid. "Are there any questions you might have of me? Anything at all. No subject is forbidden."

"What would you do had you not been cornered into a brothel?"

"Probably be a palace servant like my mother."

"You would be terrible at it," he replied. A shadow of a smirk twisting the corner of his mouth. Hardly noticeable. "Your horrible manners would have gotten you flogged to death at a young age."

"So long as I served you I think I would be fine."

"What makes you believe such a thing?"

"You enjoy my wicked tongue," you chuckled.

"You're brazen and blunt like an old dagger no one wants."

"Yet you enjoy me." You drank out of your cup. Letting the words settle over him. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not deride you. His gaze raked in your appearance slowly. Heatedly. Clinging to you more than the first time. Taking in every detail. His head tilted slightly as his eyes studied you. As if he was fascinated. His next words made your face burn. Resounding in your ears. Low and deep and effected. Unmistakably effected.

"And you would enjoy me if I allowed it." You had to think over your response carefully. How he crafted each of those specific words together. He had been thoughtful about it. "Enjoy" instead of "be with" or "lay with". It wasn't without meaning. The statement vibrated with suggestion. Like he was challenging you to impress him. Your answer had to have the same thoughtfulness.

"...perhaps not." He cocked an eyebrow. Asking without asking. "When you want me, then I will have you."

"I am the crowned prince. I want for nothing."

"Then you have nothing." His expression morphed. Something naked and raw peeling away the cynical, stoic facade. Bit by bit. Apprehension etching and shading his face. Disbelief. Or maybe it was remorse. An uneasy tremor to his next words.

"Did you...read that somewhere?"

"No. I--" You hesitated for the first time that night. The rawness of his expression piled under a new glare. A threat. "I was only referencing that you do not have me," you spoke cautiously. Even though there were many meanings to your reply, that one seemed to be the safest interpretation. You would act ignorant if it helped you avoid punishment for an unintended personal slight. There was no way his reaction was because he thought you were quoting a book. There was too much pain to it. An alloyed truth.

The glare subsided. Accepting your answer. Moments passed as both of you drank tea, and just as fast as his temper flared it extinguished. Stoic once more. Shoulders relaxing. His gaze drifted from the tray between you, then to your legs, and back to your face. Resuming the game of words as if nothing happened. Hands folded in his lap.

"If I were to want, how would you have me? I have grown up knowing the truth that I am handsome, and my status far exceeds yours. I stand above you. Would it not be that I would have you?"

"How high you stand doesn't matter when you're flat on your back." For a brief second he smirked. Licking his lips to help suppress the upward pull. It brought the mirth back to your own demeanor, and so you echoed the smirk without shame.

"So you would have me vulnerable," the prince said.

"I will have you," you corrected slyly. "In many ways." The prince rose from his seat. Porcelain clinked together as you set your cup down to follow him as was proper. He looked down his nose at you.

"I wouldn't hold your breath. Get dressed and be on your way. I've wasted more than enough time and air with you." There was no more reason to argue the point. He was right. Plenty of time had passed for people to believe you did more with your mouths than simply chat. No one just conversed with the prince for hours with no motive. No one would trust you even if you did betray his trust and say you only talked. The prince was vindictive and unkind with no patience or tolerance for things he deemed unworthy of it. Easily angered and easily bored. That was the reputation, anyway. Not that it was without truth, but you found that gossip easily snowballs into giant boulders. He handled your tea together quite well...for an emotionally stunted prince.

"Yes your highness," you bowed. Your borrowed dress still lay on the floor. The tie to his robe came free easily, and you shrugged it to the ground. The prince's gaze didn't falter that time.

As you picked up the white robe that was the first layer of the dress, his feet shuffled on the ground. Moving from behind you and around your side closer to the twin doors that were the exit. Eyes never leaving your shape. Almost as if he were appraising you. The attention, though you couldn't determine the purpose of, was not unwanted. So there was no rush in your actions as your fingers tied each string. Cinching first the robe and then the top and bottom pieces. The part that carried the color of the outfit. Once you were done you faced the prince and bowed again.

"Thank you for listening to my lesson, and for being such a gracious host. I enjoyed speaking to another book lover. Though you did not wish to be any other type of lover to me I hope that I am leaving you in better spirits than before the night began, and I pray they remain soaring above the clouds." The prince nodded to acknowledge your well wishes and dismiss you. Although you did not get the chance to open the door before his voice made you pause.

"Keep the dress." You turned on your heel. Back to the door. "I can't stand the thought of someone else having to wear that thing after you've soiled it." Paying no mind to the insult you bowed again. Smiling politely.

"Thank you, your highness." Then, you left.

Not a week passed and you were invited back to the palace. Which was a nice way of saying the prince had guards instruct you to put on the dress he gifted and escort you to his bedroom just before nightfall. Once there he dismissed the whole lot of servants. A eunuch attempted to reason that he should keep some guards just in case, but the prince merely had to glare to dismiss it as folly. They all bent at the waist dutifully and left the room. You bowed after the door clicked shut.

"How may I be of service, your highness?"

"Why aren't you looking at me?" He questioned. He didn't really want an answer. So instead you lifted your eyes to his person. He was dressed much the same as well. Pristine white robe and golden hair pin. Your polite smile lifted the corners of your mouth.

"You might be pleased to hear our little ruse worked wonders. All any of the women at my brothel could talk about was how I had a night with the crowned prince."

"What did you tell them?"

"That I enjoyed you." The prince licked his lips to hide his amusement. Turning away toward his bed. You didn't notice it until then, but he already had a tray of tea sitting on the floor waiting. A small string of steam leaving the spout of the ornately painted pot. It was fresh.

The prince's left hand extended palm up. Gesturing to the side of the room. The blue robe you had borrowed the first time was laid out over a trunk against the wall.

"I had it scrubbed, but it still reeked of the perfumes they bathed you in. From now on when you enter this room you will change into it so I don't have to hear you complain about that dress."

"As you wish, your highness," you grinned. Not missing the implication that he would have you visit multiple times after this. In a few strides you reached the trunk and began disrobing. The prince watched from the side. Doing nothing to conceal his observation. Brown eyes slightly dazed as you turned to join him after putting on his robe. It was still so soft and warm.

You both sat across from one another, and you served the tea after adding honey. It was much more relaxed from the first encounter. Though you had less to discuss. Grasping the porcelain cup full of tea and using it as your open. The stark blue pigment painting the outside was crafted so elegantly and with such care. A different scene on each piece of the set of nature and flowers.

"This is a beautiful tea set. Is it from China?"

"Yes." Simple and quiet.

"Did you enjoy your visit there?"

"No. It was long and boring, and I didn't have time to see any of the city."

"You could always go back," you suggested then drank.

"We're not expected back for years."

"Can you not travel simply to see the world?" The prince looked down. Not answering. He was trapped in the palace just like everyone else under him. Of course. You set your cup on the tray. "You can always change that." He scoffed. Taking a large gulp of the tea before setting the cup down. His fingers lingered around the rim. Staring into the amber liquid.

"You do not know my father. He would forbid it as a risk to my life."

"You're right, I don't know the king's heart, but every son must grow up eventually. You're intelligent, and trained, and strong. If he doesn't see you capable enough to leave his care for a few weeks then how can he expect you to have faith in yourself as a leader once he's gone? He can't hold you under his wing forever." The prince didn't respond at first. Fingertips slipping from his cup. They hesitated in the air, then pushed the tray so there was nothing between him and you. He raised his eyes to you and calmly said,

"I deduced the answer to your riddle." You grinned.

"Oh? Let's hear it then."

"First, I want you to retrieve my hairbrush."

"Another chat while brushing. Sounds lovely." You stood and got the same brush from before. Moving the pillow you sat on to directly in front of the prince. Kneeling and setting the brush aside so you could remove the pins and brace from atop his head. He watched your face as you extracted his hair accessories, and began the explanation of the resolution.

"The trick in your riddle is in realizing that the raft may travel both ways with cargo. Once I thought of this the answer was inanely simple. The merchant must use his raft to transport the rabbit to the other side first. The fox then will not eat the cabbage. Next he takes the cabbage, but will take the rabbit back to the original bank while leaving the cabbage on the other side. Then he will exchange the rabbit for the fox. Leaving the rabbit alone on the original bank. Again, the fox will not eat the cabbage and the merchant can go back and retrieve the rabbit." You smiled and set his things aside. His hair falling around his shoulders.

"That's correct." Something changed in his eyes. Voice soft and breathy.

"Of no use to one, yet absolute bliss to two. The baby’s right, the lover’s privilege, the hypocrite’s mask. What am I?" You hesitated. Startled by the abrupt new riddle. "I want you to show me the answer." After a second too long passed his confident facade cracked. Fingers bunching the white fabric around his knees slightly in anxiousness, and you understood. Revealing a teasing smirk.

"So the crowned prince wants for something after all."

"It is pure...scholarly curiosity."

"As you say your highness." With that you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. He was stiff as stone and did nothing but blink. He made a short hum. Accepting the answer to his riddle, or perhaps contemplating something. Then his palm was on your jaw and bringing your mouth back to him. Eyes sliding closed. Your lips fit around his bottom one. Ebbing the pressure. He copied you. Adding the movement of your jaws, but just as quickly pulled away and sighed heavily. Panting a bit. Had he been holding his breath?

The prince was trembling minutely. A rosy hue coloring his cheeks. His eyelashes fluttered slightly like blinking was an effort. Desiring so harshly not to look away. You kissed him once more shortly. His body attempted to follow you as you pulled away. Craving his self-forbidden fruit. His warm breath was tantalizing against your bare flesh; caressing your neck. Something clouding his irises. An emotion that belied his words. Calling to you for a clear path. To breeze the blossoms from the ground. Guided and beguiled.

With tender touch you weaved a hand through his hair and puzzled your lips together. Tongue brushing inside as you tasted his mouth with infinite care. Sharing space and breath and bliss. His hand slipped from your jaw. Falling to your waist. Unsure and unable to focus on anything besides following your movements. So you lead him further. Knees going to either side of his hips as you straddled the prince. His borrowed robe splitting open unmodestly because of the lazy tie you knotted. Chests pressing together. You trailed your other hand to the edge of his crisp robe. Fingers venturing beneath to splay over his heart. Feeling how his blood rushed through his body in excitement. The contact melted some barrier in the prince, and his arms cradled you close.

You were no stranger to desire. You knew the perversion in his eyes as he watched you earlier. The lust dangling from his fingertips as he traced your curves. So you stayed to sate his...scholarly curiosity. And, even if in riddles, he wanted...you would have him.

#exo #Kyungsoo #do kyungsoo #kyungsoo x reader #kyungsoo fluff #kyungsoo x you #exo fanfiction #exo scenarios #exo scenario #d.o #prince lee yool #lee yool #100 days my prince #hdmh #hdmp!au #kyungsoo fanfic #kyungsoo fanfiction #fluff

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takeiteasypeasybaby · 4 years

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Save Me: Chapter 65 - Someday

~Hey guys! Chapter 65 is out now :) I hope y’all enjoy and have a good week!~

Molly makes a confession to Michonne while Negan comes to terms with his past and Lydia thinks about her future at Alexandria.

Michonne and Judith had finally come home from Hilltop.

This filled me with both excitement and regret.

I was happy to see them both, alive and well.

Judith was like my niece and Michonne was my sister.

I loved them both so I hated them not knowing what everyone else already probably knew, that Negan and I were together.

Of course, people had whispered about him, about us for years but, because we were living together, Negan no longer in his cell and we looked after a kid, it was serious.

I think that's what unsettled people the most, that this wasn't some flirty fling with a prisoner, he was now one of us because of me and people felt threatened by us, like the King and Queen of the Sanctuary would reign over them too now.

I didn't wanna reign over anybody, I knew that Negan still did but that he held that part of himself in the past for me.

But it was the fact that we were three outcasts, the 'monster', the 'whisperer' and the 'saviour', although they interchanged monster and saviour for both Negan and I.

I knew that Judith would be okay with it, more elated than okay given how much she cared about Negan when Michonne understandably didn't.

But, Michonne, she was the type who I knew would be happy for me to see that after Tara, I could still be happy but that I found my happiness in Negan would be an issue. I was right.

Michonne strolled with Judith through the front gates as I went to greet her.

'Hey' she said smiling as she hugged me.

'I should've come home sooner' she said apologetically.

I stopped her and said quietly 'no, honestly the trial went better than expected, great actually. Listen, I need to talk with you in private about something'.

Michonne nodded sceptically and told Judith to go see Daryl and RJ while she talked to me for a minute.

I asked her to come sit with me on the bench beneath the tree and breathed deeply, hesitating before I spoke.

'Negan is living with me now' I said quickly, just trying to get it off my chest.

'What?' she said sternly but calmly.

'He is a prisoner Molly?! Or have you forgotten what he did...to all of us!' she yelled.

'I haven't nor will I ever, but he has shown over the years that he has changed. He has served our community time and time again and saving Lydia was no exception. I know it wasn't my decision to make...' I said slowly before she cut me off.

'You're damn right it wasn't!' she yelled.

'But...I made the call and if you will just give him a trial period, say two weeks. If he puts one toe out of line, then he goes back to the cell. But, showing the others that people can change, that they can find redemption, is that not what the future of this place is all about?' I asked softly.

Michonne sighed and nodded, 'fine, but he will still have guards'.

I nodded happily, saying 'deal'.

'How's Lydia doing?' she asked worriedly.

'She's banged up pretty bad, but she's healing. I just want people to see what we see, you know? That she's not a whisperer, hell she wasn't even one when she was with them. It just infuriates me that people hate her so much for something she didn't even do' I ranted as Michonne held my hand.

'You're doing the right thing Molly, you know she's so grateful for you. People will learn and understand over time' she said softly as she smiled.

'God I hope so' I replied as I looked down.

'I know you don't wanna hear this, but Negan is so good with her. She really bonded with him through all this. It's like I...like I have a family. Like I have a kid, you know?' I said hesitantly.

Michonne scowled and then smiled softly, 'I get it, Judith and RJ are my everything. I would do anything for them'.

I nodded, saying 'that's how I feel about Lydia. I wanted to kill those guys for hurting her, the thoughts that ran through my mind Michonne...they were dark. But Lydia showed me the light, showed me justice'.

'That's what we need to fight for, our future, the love that we have for each other...all of us' she said as she saw Negan in the tomato patch.

I thanked her for her understanding and I went over to Negan.

I walked up smiling like a cheshire cat and said sweetly, 'hey'.

Negan looked up and winked at me as he smiled, saying 'hey darlin'.

'Do you know where Lydia is?' I asked.

Negan nodded and said 'uh huh, dropped her off with doctor baby daddy while I went to work, she should be in her room'.

I loved hearing him talk about Lydia like she was ours, it was so sexy and compassionate.

Negan took off his cap and stood up to hold my hand.

'I love you so much you know that?' I said softly so that only we could hear.

He smirked, saying 'I love you more' he said as he bit his lip.

I went to put my arms around his waist as he said, 'Michonne is sitting right over there, we both know what happened last time'.

I chuckled, saying 'she knows and she's okay with it' as I pulled him in closer.

He relaxed and embraced me gently, holding the back of my head in his palm as he kissed my cheek.

'Is it wrong of me to say that I wanna take you right now in this tomato patch?' he whispered into my ear seductively.

I closed my eyes and smiled as I pressed my body closer so he could feel all of me.

'Not at all, but I have a funny feeling that your guards won't like that' I whispered back.

He chuckled at this and groaned in frustration, saying 'such a tease'.

I giggled and replied in a whisper, 'I know, but tonight you can have the full show'.

I pulled away from his embrace and left him wide eyed and speechless as I walked away giggling to myself.

I walked back to the house and checked Lydia's room to see that neither Siddiq or Lydia were there.

I frowned in confusion as I said to myself 'that's strange' as I walked back out.

I checked the hospital, only Dante our new doctor was working there at the moment.

He smiled strangely and said that Siddiq had gone to my house.

I just nodded and checked all over the compound, then realising that Lydia could have gone to the cell.

'Shit' I whispered to myself as I sprinted down there.

Gabriel was taking out Gage and the highway man so they could start their punishment and as I passed him I asked, 'is Lydia down there?'.

The two men didn't answer but Gabriel said 'she is but Molly I-' as I ran past them, not needing to hear the end of Gabriel's speech.

I opened the door to find Lydia sat on the bed in the cell.

Her knees curled up to her chest as her head was bowed to the ground.

'Lydia?' I asked questioningly.

'What are you doing down here?' I continued.

She looked up at me slowly and said 'what does it matter, this is where they want me'.

'You know what they're saying out there? That I brought it all on myself' she said as she started to cry.

I started to step inside as I said 'Lydia...no'.

She screamed and said 'don't! I want to be here. I was living a fairytale in your house, this is who I am'.

'You know for a long time I blamed myself for what my mother did. Kept thinking, what if I just stayed in that cell at Hilltop. If I never let myself be taken alive by you people in the first place, never went off with Henry, never said what I said to my mother' she said softly.

I sighed as I said 'you're not to blame for her'.

It was too much for her, being a family.

'My mother was right, she said you people put on these polite faces but its just a mask, because when things get bad...when you get scared, you pick a target, aim and shoot. Me, Negan, anyone but you' she continued.

'I tried fitting in, because I wanted to be like you' she said which made my heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

Tears rose to my eyes as I listened.

I shook my head, 'you don't belong in a cage, you belong with me' I said crying.

'I'm better here. I feel safe' she said sadly.

That was the truth for Lydia, with me and Negan she didn't feel safe.

I didn't doubt that she loved us but with what she went through, how could I expect her to just trust us?

It broke my heart, that I couldn't give her what she needed, but I loved her and I had to do whatever she needed.

I left the cell door open and said 'I'm sorry, just know that I love you and I will be here when you decide. I'm not leaving your side, you're stuck with me whether that's what you want or not...I've got your back' as I left the room crying.

I had been so blind. I thought she was starting to like it here, to like us.

The puzzle with Negan, the playing with Gracie, it had all been a lie.

She hated it here and it was my fault.

I should have done more, should have protected her more from all of this.

I promised her that, I thought as tears rolled down my face.

I stormed through the compound, wiping my tears before anyone saw me.

I had to do something to take my mind off it.

I had to fight them.

I marched over to Gabriel and said sternly 'I want to fight. No, I want to lead the fight'.

'I wanna train people, get ready because I can't wait any longer' I added as Gabriel just looked at me silently.

He knew something was up with me but didn't know what.

To be honest, if I was any sort of perfect person, I would better myself to help Lydia but knowing me, I wanted to fight my way through the pain.

He nodded and said 'alright' as he got everyone lined up for my training session.

I trained everyone over the age of twelve in everything, knife throwing, firing a gun, explosives, you name it.

My eyes kept flickering over to the cell where Lydia was.

I remembered all those days I would train her and I wished that she would see what I saw.

I just had to give her time and space to think.

My thoughts flashed back to the task at hand and the only thing that hindered us right now was the lack of numbers.

We had good and able fighters but the whisperers outnumbered us by a large fucking amount, plus they had a hoard of walkers that seemed to get larger every time we took some out like they were respawning.

I told Gabriel and he brought Negan over.

Aaron was training nearby me and as soon as he saw our plan, he marched over and said sternly 'we're good'.

'We're low on soldiers already, the ones we have are fighting fatigued. Negan has only been on cleanup duty' I pleaded.

'I said we're good' Aaron said angrily as he fastened his metal arm on.

Negan came over and said 'hey Molly, I'd rather just stay here and pick tomatoes and bury corpses'.

I whispered, 'he needs you out there, please?'.

'Yeah and I need me in here, especially on a day like today. Everybody's amped to eleven, pissed at the skins and stirring shit up with each other. I already told ya, I don't want any of those hateful vibes taken out on me' he said softly.

'I'll make you a deal' I whispered sweetly.

'You do this for me and i'll do that thing we talked about later' I added.

He chuckled and shook his head.

I sighed and said happily 'it's Aaron, he's a saint!'.

'Look, I just wanna stay here can you just do me that solid Moll' he said softly.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and walked over.

'You can fight, you are low on fighters. Peanut butter meet Jelly. You're taking him, end of discussion' Gabe said as he pointed to Negan and Aaron.

Negan's POV//

I knew Molly wanted me to fight with her but I couldn't help but be a little fucking sceptical.

Everyone hated me here except Molly, Lydia and Judith, so going out there with mister robot arm kinda freaked me out a little bit.

Once we got out, we fought the dead in silence until I picked up a crowbar to kill them more easily.

The fucker had given me a wooden stick, the hell was I meant to do with that?!

He warned me to put it down but I didn't listen so he chucked me some rope.

I chuckled and said, 'what? you want me to hang myself?'.

'Tie up, I'm taking you back' he said angrily.

'You're taking me back? That is the best freaking news I've heard all day! But, I am not tying up like some POW' I said smiling.

'Yes you are' he said sternly which made me smile even more.

'Or what cowboy? I asked sarcastically.

He drew out his knife as I said 'agh'.

'You know what I see? I see someone that's pretendin'. Come on man, let's just go' I said calmly as I tried to walk past.

He pushed me to the ground as I moved past him.

'Agh, Jesus did you just trip me?! What are you twelve?! What the hell is wrong with you, I've been putting my neck on a block for you people all goddamn week!' I yelled as I stood up slowly.

'You don't give a damn about us! If you gave a shit, you'd leave! That's what everyone needs' he yelled back.

I nodded and looked down, saying 'I did what I had to do back then'.

He looked surprised and asked 'what did you just say? No, no, no, open that up. Tell me, why the love of my life had to die!'.

'Okay, one simple fact, one truth kept my people going. If you don't protect what belongs to you, then sooner or later it belongs to someone else, that goes for your land, your wallet, your home, your country, everything. It is your job as a man to protect it. Its the story of America, the story of the whole goddamn world and ain't nothin changing it. Not you, not me, nobody' I said seriously.

He scoffed and said 'are you saying that Eric's death was my fault? Well, if I failed Eric then you failed Molly'.

I felt rage boiling in my blood as I kept my cool and just smiled saying 'careful'.

'She left the Sanctuary hating you, you know that she will never forgive you and you will never be able to change that. So, you can act like she won't hold that against you forever, but we both know the truth' he whispered.

I just chuckled as I frowned in anger.

'You wanna say something?' he added.

I noticed two walkers coming towards us and smiled saying 'yeah, behind you' as I ran.

#negan #twd #the walking dead #negans thirst squad #negan x original female character #michonne #mollychambler #saveme

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peterjonesparker · 5 years

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I offer this knowing full well the trash fire that I am. sorry I made y’all wait over a year. hope this isn’t too bad and not worth the wait :( lots of shit going on in my life and has been going on haha. been a big year! I graduated! I'm working! trying to find a full time job! wow! but yeah...hope you all enjoy. anyhow.

tags: @spideychelle-romanogers, @redpanthers, @suplosers, @bellamywarriorblake, @spideychelleforever, @ritebeforeyoureyes, and @johnmulaneyslut. I forgot a lot of ppl I'm sure! if you want to be tagged for any future updates (maybe they won't take a year rip my life) just message me and I'll add you! and if you don’t wanna be tagged going forth, just lmk! okay, story!

chapter seven: “I thought you might want to join me?” (ao3 link)

Michelle doesn’t realize how well and truly fucked she is until her birthday comes around. She’s been doing her very best to pretend everything has been fairly normal, just add in some making out and oral sex to the equation. (Since she went down on him, he’s gone down on her another five times and each one has been absolutely breathtaking. He’s just…so…observant.) In any case, Michelle has been trying to pretend they’re just good friends who blow off some steam together sexually.

She tries to rationalize the way he’ll sometimes grab her hand when they’re walking to class. Or how he’ll wrap his arm around her when they watch Pride and Prejudice and she tries to hide her tears at Darcy’s confession to Elizabeth. Or sometimes the way he stares at her like she’s the greatest thing in the universe and she wonders if she’s even known what it’s felt like to be adored like this.

They’re just friends, though. This is just Peter being the gentlest soul she’s ever known. He wants her to feel loved because he wants her to be happy. As her friend.

Her birthday is always dangerous territory. Because take how much care and love Peter usually gives her and multiply it by one trillion. She wakes up to a light knock on her door and Peter’s made stacks of chocolate chip pancakes, complete with bananas and Nutella that’s been warmed slightly so it spreads more easily. He’s also made her a chai latte. Or…well…he’s attempted to make her a chai latte. And he drew a heart with chocolate drizzle over the foam. He brings all this in on a tray he claims he had May send over and he’s brought the New York Times Sunday crossword.

They spend the morning cuddling together, eating and trying their best to fill out the whole crossword without any clues. (They only need to go to Rex Parker’s solution for three!) He spends the time occasionally pecking her shoulder or check or neck or simply deciding to drag his lips over the skin there. No matter what it is, she gets goosebumps wherever he touches her.

They make out for a bit and it’s soft and gentle and warm. But then he’s pulling off of her and smiling down, telling her to get dressed because he has a whole big day planned. She groans. Because, like, they were making out and she’s tired and doesn’t want to get out of bed. She also quite likes Peter being in her bed. But those puppy dog eyes of his can get her to say yes to just about anything so she gets dressed and lets him drag her around town.

They go to the coffee shop that serves coffee at the perfect temperature. The one right by the coffee shop where she and Peter first freaked out about starting college and making new friends and taking the right classes. The one where she and Peter decided to live together. The barista recognizes them and gives her their order for free.

Birthday: 1. Sadness about Peter: 0.

Afterward they stop by a bookstore that’s stocked up with the new release of an author Michelle really likes. Then, the authorshows up and signs her book and wishes her a happy birthday and says that she owed Tony a favor. And this is just such a cute idea. Your boyfriend really cares about you!

Birthday: 1. Sadness about Peter: 1.

They go to the park and he buys them a blanket and he watches people while she reads her new book. She also manages to drift off to sleep. Peter’s just rubbing her back so nicely and the sun was so warm and her eyes just felt so heavy. But it’s her birthday so she can do whatever she wants.

He wakes her when the sun is starting to set and takes her back home, arm wrapped around her shoulder as they walk to the train. He lets her sleep on his shoulder on the ride back and she does not dream about him because he’s right next to her and that would be dumb…right?

When they get back to their apartment, Michelle’s feeling more sad than anything else. Because she’s so happy. Being with Peter is everything she ever hoped it would be. In fact, it’s better. Because she only ever had vague ideas about holding hands and spending time together and doing sappy shit. Which they do. But they also give each other orgasms and that’s an aspect she never let herself think about before. She has all of it in her grasp, but they’re not quite there. She doesn’t know what to do about it other than feel sad.

Maybe Peter senses that, and that’s the reason he timidly says that he has one more gift for her but only if she feels up to it and it’s totally fine if she’s not. She smiles, tired but fond. “Show me.” That’s when he pulls a small slip of paper from his pocket and extends it toward her with a goofy grin.

This coupon is good for one bubble bath

She looks down to hide the radiant smile that overtakes her face. She angles her head back up to look at him through her eyelashes, and he looks simultaneously terrified and ecstatic. “Well,” she pushes her shoulders back and gestures forward. “Lead the way.”

His eyes shoot wide and he sputters out a few breaths before “give me one second!” He sprints to the bathroom and only comes out a few minutes later, sufficiently less panicked. “Sorry for the delay, let’s go.” He grabs her hand gingerly and guides her toward their joint bathroom.

It’s set up with candles and he’s playing a playlist she’d created a while ago on his Bluetooth speakers. He’s laid out her favorite book alongside a glass of wine. When she turns her head, he’s smiling, small and shy. “I thought you should have a relaxing birthday evening.”

But then he starts to walk away and she panics, grabbing his wrist to hold him back. He turns with a raised eyebrow. “Did you change your mind?” He turns to face her fully now. “That’s really okay. I can try to plan something else if you want?

She laughs, head tilted back and smile wide on her face. He’s such a nerd. “No, Peter.” But then she’s nervous because he was going to walk away and should she really bother asking? It’s her birthday, though. “I thought you might want to join me?”

He blushes furiously, turning his head to avoid eye contact. “If you’d like.” He glances back at her quickly, a slow growing and hopeful smile on his face.

She answers by pulling her shirt over her head and throwing it carelessly across the room, whipping her head to accentuate the movement. She smiles when she hears Peter chuckle. They strip awkwardly and wordlessly, which still astounds her because they’ve seen each other naked several times by now and still aren’t used to it. But they work through the discomfort and get into the bath, her back to his as they just lie there.

It's incredibly relaxing. But Michelle still feels very unsettled. Especially because she’ll adjust a bit and Peter will gasp and she’ll feel his dick twitch. But this is a bit of uncharted territory. Because they haven’t had penetrative sex yet. Just oral sex. Handjobs and fingering, too. But penetrative sex? Nope. And of course it’s also the type of sex that Michelle finds most intimidating because it’s never as comfortable or easy as someone touching her clit. But she feels Peter’s dick twitching against her back, slowly getting hard. And she can hear Peter’s breath hitch with the effort of trying not to get hard. And it’s a futile effort in any case because she loves him and if he wanted to have penetrative sex, she would love to have it with him. She’s honestly kind of curious and is getting a bit turned on at the thought. It’s her fucking birthday, too. Which is maybe how she can justify the words that come out of her mouth next.

“Peter, are you ever going to fuck me with your dick?”

Peter stills. He’s incredibly tense. She can feel it. So she cranes her neck so she can watch him take a deep swallow, lip trembling a bit. “Is that something you want?”

“Is it something you want?”

Peter answers by wrapping his arms around her and kissing her deeply. The angle is a bit uncomfortable, but Peter starts dragging his hands down her body. She gasps when his fingers drift over her clit, and that’s what breaks their kiss. Her head turns back to face forward as she pants, head falling back against Peter’s chest. He leans down to kiss her neck, smiling into it. It takes her an embarrassing amount of time to realize he’s actually whispering things into her ear.

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” A bite to her ear lobe. “You’d like that, huh? Want to feel yourself falling apart around my dick, huh? Want to know how up the wall I’d be feeling you all around me, huh?”

Michelle gasps, nodding her head and keening. Her hands have a vice grip on his thighs as his fingers circle her clit. She’s biting her lip, trying to maintain some sense of composure. But the thought of him getting hard and entering her slowly is starting to drive her a bit crazy. Her friends all talk about proper lubrication and being relaxed and she figures an orgasm is the best way to do it, so she reaches her hand back and runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of Peter’s neck. She pushes his head down into her neck. “Give me a hickey for my birthday. I want you to make me come as you mark my skin.”

And so Peter does just that. And it’s as he’s sucking on the skin connecting her shoulder to her collarbone and his fingers are rubbing her clit in the circles she’s shown Peter how to perfect that her mouth parts on a deep moan. Then the pants begin and her chest starts to heave as the pressure builds and it starts to feel like too much in the best way possible. It’s these seconds right before orgasming that are Michelle’s favorite and she should really explore edge play with Peter or something and just thinking about exploring all these different ways to have sex with Peter who is probably the love of her life feels one hundred percent too overwhelming and she orgasms, moaning obnoxiously loudly in a way she hasn’t done before.

She feels like she maybe blacks out for a second, but when her eyes open, it’s to the sight of Peter smiling down at her, a look akin to awe on his face. And she chooses to lean into the moment and not think too strongly about it. She just lets him help her to stand up and lead her to the bed. She’s nervous but she also hasn’t been this excited about anything in a long while.

#spideychelle #Peter parker #Michelle jones #Michelle x peter #Peter x michelle #Spiderman: homecoming #Spiderman: far from home #sh #sffh #otp: I'm just kidding I don't care #I write things #eeeeep

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occasionalfics · 5 years

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worth my while // p. 3

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ko-fi | p. 2 | p. 4

Summary: After being banished from his home, Thor Odinson has stopped at nothing to prove himself worthy of his throne, title, and power.

After losing the love of your life, you turned to a power you didn’t understand.You know you shouldn’t get involved.

But how could you not?

Pairing: Thor x Reader (Hercules au…kind of…)

A/N: Woo for no Hades this chapter! I think my favorite part of editing so far is realizing how much I skimmed over and never took the time to delve into, so now I’m filling in gaps and stuff. It’s fun.

I’m loving that y’all are liking this, so far! Thank you, and continue to shower me in your love (aka let me know what you think)!

Warnings: Violence, lots of angst, borderline abuse and definite manipulation, eventual smut, way too many feels, major character death (eventually). A little more harassment on Hades’ part this time around.

Words: 2,660

The one thing you got to keep in your arrangement with Hades was your apartment. It took a lot of negotiating, but you refused to move into his mansion. It didn’t matter that he could build you a wing to yourself in a matter of minutes. You wanted a home to yourself, and you wanted him to pay for it, if you were going to be in his service whenever he needed you.

The only stipulation was that you needed to move into a place Rick hadn’t been in. Your ex couldn’t know where you lived, and you couldn’t know where he was, either.

And that was just fine with you.

Over time, you’ve come to appreciate the quiet loneliness of your apartment. Hades likes hosting at his place, rarely ever makes an appearance at yours. You’re grateful for that, at least.

The darkness at night doesn’t eat you up. The quiet during the morning doesn’t smother you. It’s all comforting. And it’s yours.

But what’s unsettling about it this morning is that it’s been three days.

Three days since Hades dropped you off here. No texts, no calls, no finding him with an expensive car on the curb outside the building, waiting for you to emerge.

Three days since you watched Thor explode out of the Hydra, and three days since the last day you didn’t think about him at least once an hour.

Both thoughts are driving you a little crazy. You hate this. You want them both to leave you alone, even though neither of them have made contact with you in three whole days. You’re worried because Hades never leaves you alone for this long, and because you really shouldn’t be letting some guy you don’t even know dictate your brain space like this.

You force yourself out of bed. It’s comfortable there, yes, but that’s the quietest place in the apartment. It’s the place ripe for the most contemplation. At least in the shower, you can focus on the grout between the tiles or the hair you should probably clean out of the drain.

You’re dressed in under thirty minutes, afraid to let a single thought linger with an action for too long. You decide to head out, though you don’t have a clue of where you’re going at first. But if Hades isn’t requiring your presence, then you see no reason to lock yourself away from the world.

What’s funny about that is that, before today, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.

Ever since Rick… died. That’s all you’ve done - hide away. You were hiding in that church that day, only in plain sight. And Hades had taken advantage of that.

Since Rick left, you’d sequestered yourself. No contact with old friends, barely any texts and calls to and from your mother. The only person you regularly interact with is Hades.

Man, your life is a sad, strange little mess.

Made even worse by the direction in which your feet take you: straight to Avengers’ tower. You don’t even know how you get there - you just walk and walk and ignore your rumbling stomach until, suddenly, you’re staring up at the neon letters that used to make up STARK but now read AVENGERS.

The building is nearly impossible to look at on a sunny day, what with its visage of windows and solar panels. Thankfully, today is somewhat overcast.

You don’t know what you’re doing at Avengers’ Tower, but that doesn’t stop your feet from dragging you into the lobby. The receptionist smiles at you, asks if you have an appointment, but you shake your head.

“I was wondering if Thor was in,” you hear yourself ask. Your heart skips a beat and the hairs at the back of your neck stand like you’ve been electrocuted.

Why are you asking for Thor? You wonder. If Hades knew, he’d surely taunt you. He’d probably use it against you, honestly. Or, if not against you, then at least in some way to his own advantage.

Same difference.

The receptionist reminds you that Hades isn’t here simply by nodding. She offers to call for him, which you’re sure is a safety precaution since you obviously don’t belong here. Without meaning to, you take her up on her offer.

You take a seat by the wall, but stand again because, if you sit, you’ll think. You’ll think about how weird this is, how you shouldn’t be here, how it’s really off putting that Hades hasn’t texted or called or anything in three days.

You realize, only then, that coming to find Thor is a distraction. You don’t even know him or know that he’ll want to see you, and yet, you’re here. You’re here on the flimsy hope that he’ll take your mind off whatever it is your dangerous employer is planning.

You don’t notice you’ve started to pace until Thor steps into the lobby. You have to turn around to face the elevator as he ducks his head slightly. He’s too damn tall.

You’ve never been drawn to big guys like him before. Rick was toned but slim, built much closer to Hades or Tony Stark than...this.

But you can only deny the fact that you think Thor is attractive for so long.

“(Y/N),” he says, curious surprise clear in his voice.

You remember that he only knows your name because Sam said it to him at the event. To you, Thor is the man who burst out of the stomach of a Monster, outmaneuvering Hades, by sheer will of force. But to him, you’re a mystery.

“Uh,” you stumble, “hi.”

“What’re you doing here?” he asks, not impolite. He comes over to you, apparently just as aware as you are that the receptionist is watching you.

Looking up at him, you feel tiny, but - surprisingly - not in a bad way.

“I, um.” You weave your fingers together and pull, cracking a knuckle loudly in the silence. Grappling for words isn’t your style - not anymore, not since Hades - and yet you find you’re entirely confused. What are you doing here, anyway?

You clear your throat. “Sorry. Could we, uh. Maybe go get coffee?”

You absolutely had not planned on asking Thor, an Avenger, out on a date today. Is it a date? It sounds like a date.

What will Hades say when he finds out?

Well, if he finds out.

Yes. If. If is good.

“Sure,” Thor answers, though his expression gives no new emotion away. He feels his pockets and breathes out deeply, then nods. “Just a moment,” he tells you before turning to the receptionist. You turn halfway to the door so you don’t look like you’re eavesdropping.

You actually don’t hear what he’s saying to her at all. And that’s okay. She just nods, and then he joins you by the door.

“So,” he says when you’re on the street, heading for the closest cafe that you know has good pastries. “I must say, I’m rather surprised to see you.”

You nod, because of course he is. It’s not like you have his number or anything to announce your appearance ahead of time. It’s not like you know one another well enough to actually be going on coffee dates.

Not a date.

Yeah, right.

“Honestly, I’m not sure what possessed me to show up like that,” you say with a shrug. You cross your arms before going on. “I am surprised you even came down, though. You could’a just told that receptionist to tell me to get lost.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure you know this city better than most.”

There’s no way he can know that. No one knows this city as well as they think they do. There’s always something new to see or stumble upon, which is why so many people are drawn to cities like New York.

“Beatrice had Friday alert me, but all either of them said was that a pretty girl was requesting my presence.” He doesn’t explain who Friday is, but you agree that the receptionist looked like a Beatrice. Somehow. “Who was I to turn away a woman in need of my assistance?”

That’s not the situation here, and you both know it. But you don’t correct him. You point out the cafe and Thor takes the door from you, insisting on following you in.

“I guess,” you start as you get in line. You sigh, because your brain really isn’t working with you. Your mouth is moving on muscle memory alone, it seems.

But that’s not right.

Still, you find yourself saying, “I just thought that we’d gotten off on the wrong foot. Twice. And I wanted to clear that up.” Kind of. Because telling him why you were in Victor Von Doom’s office is off the table.

You wait until you’ve both ordered, paid, and picked up your steaming cups. Maybe this really isn’t a date - a thought that you actually allow to disappoint you a little bit - if you’re each paying separately. Then again, you haven’t exactly been on a date in some time. Are they still doing it the same way?

Thor picks a table away from most of the other people in the cafe. It’s early afternoon, so the place isn’t quite packed. Especially not for Manhattan. But still, it’ll be easier to talk without having others around to hear.

He sips on his drink. You just wrap your hands around yours.

“So,” he says after a bit. “What are we clearing up?”

You chuckle out a sigh, unable to tell which one is meant to cover up the other. “I’ll start with an introduction, I guess.” You let go of the coffee cup and hold a hand out to him. “I’m (Y/N).”

Thor cocks an eyebrow at you, but seems to catch on quickly. He shakes your hand and tells you, “Thor Odinson, Avenger.”

“You use that line on all the girls you go out for coffee with?” you ask. You hadn’t even meant to. You hate sounding...jealous or petty. Or basic. But you hope the case is that you sound flirty.

Thor think the last, too. He shakes his head and tells you, point-blank, “Not at all. It’s merely a polite formality - most people already know who I am. But I want us to be on equal footing.”

More than the words he’s said, you’re quite floored by his honesty. Not even Hades has been this up front with you - maybe ever.

“Now I’ve told you what I do for a living,” he says, and immediately, your heart speeds up. “What is that you do?”

The question reverberates in your head. And your chest. And your stomach. This whole idea was terrible - why did you let yourself out of the house again? What force in this universe possessed you to ask an Avenger out? Date or no, this is the quickest you’ve ever fallen into a disaster.

You can’t just tell him you work for the Greek God of the Dead, Ruler of the Underworld. He’d probably believe the God part, and that would be a nice break, but you definitely shouldn’t tell him the truth. Hades won’t like it at all.

But you also can’t not answer him. You’ve dug yourself a hole already, and now you need to lie in it.

“I...uh. I’m a maid.”

You hate yourself for lying. Which is new. You lie all the time - you were going to lie to Victor Von Doom if you needed to, and you absolutely would not have felt like an absolute disappointment then. But you hate that you’re lying now, and that you feel like you have to lie to keep this going.

Why do you even want this going at all?

You sip your coffee to avoid having to say anything more so soon. Thor just nods, like he believes what you’ve said. Poor fool you think, even though you are the only person making him into one.

But honestly, maid is the closest thing you can think of that isn’t inappropriate. Errand bitch somehow doesn’t have the same ring to it. So you allow it.

“And do you work for Doctor Von Doom, then?” he asks.

And you pause then, as you realize that you’re only making this worse. Of course that’s where he’d go. Because maids can’t just afford gorgeous gowns and aren’t usually invited to exclusive galas for billionaires just for the sake of company.

“Oh, uh. No,” you say. You clear your throat again, pushing your cup as far away from you as you can get it without making it obvious that you’re uncomfortable.

It must not work, though. You don’t go on, and Thor doesn’t appear to know what to say, at least at first. So the silence drags on until he scoots just a few centimeters closer to you, somehow dragging in the smell of clean before a storm, and tilts his head to glace sidelong at you.

“I did not mean to overstep, (Y/N),” he says softly.

This is so silly you think. He didn’t overstep. He asked all completely normal questions - you’re the one that’s being ridiculous. You can hear Hades’ voice in your head, telling you to get a grip, that Thor is just a guy. Just another guy, just like Rick was just another guy.

You shake your head to dismiss your own thoughts and Thor’s apology. “No, it’s okay. My employer...he just prefers privacy, you know?”

That’s not entirely a lie. It settles the uncomfortable rumbling in your stomach, at least for now.

Thor nods. “Of course,” he says, forcing a smile.

It’s cute, that he wants to make you comfortable. You think that’s what it is in his eyes - those lightning, mesmerizing eyes that have drawn you into him every single time you’ve seen them.

But you stop yourself from appreciating that fully, because you haven’t done anything to earn it. And the last time you did… Well, that landed you with an Eternity of doing Hades’ bidding to look forward to.

“So you’re a maid,” he repeats. “That’s more than I knew three days ago.” He smiles at you, clearly trying.

You take a deep breath and decide to try, too. “In that case, it’s your turn to tell me something that I don’t already know.”

He laughs at that. After another sip of coffee, he says, “Well, I don’t know how much you already know, but if we’re keeping things quite simple, I’m not an only child.”

The only reason you pause at that is because that definitely feels like first-date territory. And your response, “Really, now?” definitely points in the same direction.

“Technically, my brother is adopted. You may know him, if know anything about the Battle of Manhattan.” It almost sounds like he’s bragging, but there’s a grim darkness that takes over the blue of his eyes. Is he shaming himself to make you feel more comfortable, you wonder?

“Wait,” you say, thinking of the green man you’d thought was Thor’s cousin only a few days ago. “The dude that brought those aliens here - he’s your brother?”

Thor chuckles sarcastically, then nods. “When you’re as old as we are, you find ways to keep life interesting.” He takes another sip of his drink, then turn the cup away from him when he puts it back on the table. “Funny how he comes and wreaks havoc here, and yet he’s still admitted entrance into Asgard.”

His gaze goes to the table, too, and every instinct in you is yelling out to ask him what that means. But then a small voice - Hades’ voice, just distant - reminds you that you’re already too deep into this conversation. The less you know, the better, even if you’d asked for information about Thor.

This “date” is a one-time thing, you tell yourself.

If only you were as good at following your own rules as you are at following Hades’.

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #thor au #hercules au #worth my while fic

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disposedserenity · 5 years

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*rough* review of MOTS:7

The title might say review, but it’s really just my own thoughts that I want to share in the form of verbal vomit. STREAM while u read.

1) Interlude: SHADOW I loved the song right away on first listen. The extended version is soooo good, because it traces back to yoongi’s iconic ‘I want big house, big cars, big rings’ line from NMD. Thematically, this is my favourite concept out of the 3 rap line solos (Persona, Shadow & Ego). Yoongi songs all immediately reasonate with me because the stuff he writes about are what I’ve experienced at one point in my life.... and I feel so deeply when yoongi is rapping about it. At this point, I could go on forever about why I love yoongi songs so much but I will stop here.

2) Black Swan

It took me about three listens to fully appreciate the song, but I KNEW I was going to love it when I heard that trap beat and the bump bump bump lyric... Then I watched the performance, and I just loved it even more. For years, I’ve been fervently wishing that bts (especially jimin) would do a contemporary dance and I AM SO GLAD THEY DID!! Speaking of the dance, that’s another analysis on it’s own.... The way they match the dance steps to the lyrics.... Also this song lined up right after shadow makes perfect sense because Shadow talks about losing yourself into the deepest and darkest recesses of your soul while in Black Swan, the boys step into that shadow and confront it because they realise you have to make peace with your shadow to emerge triumphant.

3) Filter

I swear, this could be an Alec Benjamin song because this song has Alec Benjamin VIBES all over. Well, I guess jimin took inspiration from him because he put a ton of alec’s songs on his spotify playlist and even went to his concert so yey! Both their voice tones are similar ish because it’s very distinct and their singing voices are quite different from their speaking voices so it’d be really cool if they made a song together. Funnily enough, I don’t really like this song as much as I thought I’d would. It’s not a bad song, but I think I don’t gravitate to this song as much because this song was written about jimin for jimin and it’s really himself that he’s singing it to.

This song also radiates BIG libra energy. Libras love changing and moulding their personalities to please other people and they put on various personas to showcase the multi-faceted sides of themselves (sorry, just a huge astrology enthusiast here lolol). Filter has a narcissist undertone to it done in a purposeful manner. The protagonist of this song KNOWS he’s desired and is flaunting it in any way possible. They are aware of the power they hold and are wielding it to control the listener (the pursuers) Ahahaha sounds like someone we know? Recently, I told a friend that Jimin is really good at fan service. He’s the idol of idols, his face and name gets recognised first, everyone wants to be him AND be with him.... To sum it up, filter is jimin showing the world that he has many sides and it doesn’t matter which we are going to choose because he can adapt to whichever one you please (this push and pull reminds me a lot of house of cards hmm...)

4) My Time

Jungkook definitely has some magic where his song always gets to me and I immediately like the song. I think he excels in laying out his emotions bare and this creates a perfect canvas for telling his story. I definitely cannot relate to what he talks about in My TIme because I am not a jetsetting global superstar who vary between time zones (not that I know of), yet I still feel like I’ve been in his exact footsteps and know that feeling. This, my friends, is what true skill looks like. The rarest of musicians are able to write a song about themselves and make it relevant to almost everyone. It’s an impossible task. Yet, this golden maknae has succeeded once again.

In Begin, he talks about leaving Seoul to pursue his dreams and dedicates that song to his 6 members, his 6 newfound brothers, the hardships they go through and again, this hits you hard. You might not have left your hometown at a young age, but everyone has left something or someone behind in their lives. Euphoria ALWAYS makes me melancholic even though I clearly 1) am not young, 2) do not have a first love 3) minus bts, would NOT call anyone the cause of my euphoria but shit, jungkook out here got me feeling things and tearing up.

Thank you jungkook for constantly expressing your thoughts in such a clear way in any song you write, and My Time is no exception (and it sounds like such a r&b banger too)

5) Louder than Bombs

TROYE! SIVAN! You absolutely can hear troye’s fingerprints all over this song because this song sounds like a troye song (in the best way possible, because I looooove troye and his music) This is another classic “happy sounding but sad af lyrics” bangtan moment. Louder than Bombs is a good midway point in the album because they are crossing into the sad, aggressive, heart tearing, no bullshit songs territory.

(I don’t have a lot to say about this because I really love this song and sometimes with songs that I like, I just sit back and enjoy for what it is.)

6) ON

OKAY NOW LET’S GET INTO FORMATION! (yes, this was the first thing that it reminded me of hahaha and her superbowl half time performance had a marching band too) THIS.IS.SUCH.AN.ABSOLUTE.EARWORM. I LOVE IT. The 30 second preview made me so intrigued because it only featured the “hey na na na” part so I wondered what ON would sound like. I was NOT expecting it to sound like that, but what can I say? BTS always blows me away with their title tracks.

Speaking of formation, hooooo boy do I love the formation of this choreography. Mad props to The Lab for pulling this out of their hat because IT IS SO IMPRESSIVE. The set up reminds me of dionysus too, in the way that the choreography is being arranged in the live performances. Big ups to the Blue Devils marching band too, because even though you can’t really see much of them in the mv (or maybe I’m too focused on the boys lol) but you can hear the marching band so much clearer in the audio and I am LIVING for it. Overall, I am utterly thrilled by this masterpiece.

7) UGH!

*gunshots* alright back to 2013 bangtan let’s go. UGH, when will rap line stop making a banger? never I guess, UGH. lord, just let me get dissed by rap line once and then life would be better.

I. fucking. love. the. rap. line. I am definitely not smart enough to try to analyse or decipher the lyrics even with translations because their wordplay is on a whole other level. With cyphers and ddaeng, I really shouldn’t be surprised anymore but I still am. They manage to outdo themselves with every new song they release together. RM, Suga and J-Hope are great on their own but you put them TOGETHER? in one STUDIO? god help us all when this is performed live because someone’s gonna get headbanged out of the venue. I’ll end this with a silent prayer for a rap line concert.....

8) 00:00

This song is so, so, so painful. This song is what Tonight is to me. Ok I’m going to get a whole lot more personal here.

I was in a fucking terrible internship last year during the period Persona was released (I’m actually quite thankful this song wasn’t released then or I’d really have full on goblin ugly cry listening to this). That was the worst job experience I’ve ever had in my life (lao tian ye please don’t deal me any more shitty hands). I spent every day wishing that my misery would end soon and I physically did not want to go to work the next day. Every morning, I was almost crying to have to get up to go to work (and because it was an almost 2 hour journey to the office). By the time I reached home, all I could do was eat (if I had an appetite) and retire to my room and lie on the floor and just stare into my ceiling while mindlessly scrolling through social media looking for some sort of solace. Some days, even bts wasn’t doing it for me. Even though I managed to get out of that hellhole before the end date, the trauma (lol can I call it that?) and emotions stayed with me throughout the rest of the year. Only one friend knew I had depression and constantly asked me about it (thank you friend, even though you won’t read this...) and I even looked up therapists in singapore.

The lyrics ‘An unsettling night, suddenly, I look at the clock. Soon, it’s 12 O’Clock. Will something change. It probably won’t be the case’ hits so hard because this describes my situation to a T. By the time I got home, it was about 8.30 and by the time I snapped out of my mindlessness, it was almost midnight and this cycle just carried on for months.

Zero O’Clock

And you gonna be happy

Midnight is both a happy and sad hour, because for some it could signal the end of their misery or their happiness. Back then, it was my hell because it meant a new hellish day was approaching. Looking back now, I realise it could have been a tiny form of happiness because it meant that the days are passing and the end to my pain was getting closer.

So thank you Jin, Jungkook, V and Jimin for creating such a beautiful song that I didn’t know would end up being so personal. Putting aside the meaning, it is such a great song that I’d put on repeat. But I’m scared to call this a favourite because of how intimate this is for me so I hope y’all understand. But, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

9) Inner Child

This sounds like it should be a in a drama or anime haha. The “whoa ohhhh” vocals in the backgrounds reminds me a lot of Jet Lag too. Inner Child is a very fitting title because as V described, it is a letter to his past self. As an ARMY, I’ve witnessed how much V has matured over the past few years. I mean even though all of the members have also grown, V’s transformation is the one that stands out the most (at least to me). Tae went from a bright eyed outgoing kid to a still outgoing but deeply contemplative adult in front of millions of adoring fans and strangers alike, and I cannot imagine how that must be like for him. V is a notoriously private person, and we know the least about if you reeeally think about it. I will never (nor do I want to) know what goes through his mind but I appreciate the fact he reveals a tiny glimpse of it in his songs (scenery, winter bear and now inner child).

10) Friends

CAN YOU SPELL SOULMATES? NO YOU CAN’T, BECAUSE THERE IS NO VMIN IN IT. Ships are cute and all, but vmin has trascended beyond what ships are and I’m convinced they are all part of a bigger plan arranged by the Almighty that no matter what happens, they will always find each other in their four lives (can you tell I’ve been watching Goblin lolol). Recently, I was listening to a podcast by Jae and the episode was about the probability of soulmates. One of the questions he posed was what is a soulmate? To me, I believe that soulmates exist in many forms. There are the romantic soulmates (hi glenn & benn), friendship soulmates, family soulmates, strangers soulmates and even a bond between a pet and a human. I now think there should be another category of soulmates and that is vmin. *cries I want what vmin have* Not everyone manages to find their soulmates. The lucky ones do, and the rest of us will have to settle for second best.

Also kudos to Jimin for his first ever produced song! woohoo

11) Moon

When I first read that this was a song about Jin’s love for ARMY, I braced myself for a full waterfall of tears. However, I was pleasantly surprised by how happy this song sounds??? (thanks jin for not making me cry again like tonight did). Now that I think about it, of course Jin would make a happy love song (pffft saggis). As we all know, Jin’s way of comforting himself is to comfort others through laughter, smiles and lotsa dad jokes. No one else but Jin would and I love him even more for this. He takes the idea of what you’d think a love song would sound like and turn it around. SAD? NOT IN JINHIT ENTERTAINMENT.

Jin, know that you are more than a handsome face and the oldest member. You are loved more than you think you are. You think you’re the moon to us? No hun, you are the entire galaxy contained in those worldwide shoulders.

12) Respect

My favourite track. I mean starting with that iconic “should I stay or should I go” line? Genuis. Collab of the year. Namgi of the year. Ok, maybe I am slightly (alot) bias since this song is essentially Suga, RM & El Capitixn (yes, THE El Capitixn that helped to produce DDAENG).

Namgi dynamics are so rarely talked about because most people see them as the underground rapper duo who’ve known each other over 10 years and are old friends and that’s about it. Their dynamics just gets to me even more because the trust and respect they have for each other is incredible. Joon looks up to yoongi as an older member and also for his incredible work ethic, while yoongi trusts joon wholeheartedly as their leader even though joon is younger and the way they banter off each other? ugh, where can I get bros like namgi? Their rap and producing styles are so vastly different yet the result that is respect makes ME respect them. Use me as your slave, masters.

bonus: that ending clip of them just having a convo? please share your stories from back in the day, please. I said please. with a cherry on top.

13) We are Bulletroof: the Eternal

Is this MOTS : 7′s answer to Mikrokosmos? I can already imagine this as the ending song of a concert..... A perfect tune to end the album as well. Who knew my attraction to the number seven had a deeper meaning than just simply liking it huh? Is my life preplanned too.... @ universe give me answers. I really like how this song did not go the WABB Part 1 & 2 route and took a softer approacher indeed. It’s almost like they are saying we were seven hardened boys made more tender with the existence of armys.... ok bitch don’t make me cry anymore than I have been suppressing.

“we are not seven, with you” :’))))

14) Outro: Ego

This is the kind of song that gets better the more you listen to it. Not that it was bad on the first listen, but usually such bright and positive songs takes a while longer for the emo in me to process. I say this all the time that I almost sound like a broken recorder, but I LOVE LOVE how hobi has crafted a sound for him that is uniquely his and you will be able to immediately recognise it’s him (which is such a hard feat to pull off, might I add). I’m also immensely proud because he started out as a street dancer to becoming one of the best rappers in the industry while holding his rightful candle alongside two already established rappers that is namgi. I cannot wait to see this being performed live because you just know he’ll get everyone and their grandmas to start vibin right there.

In conclusion, I love bts. what else is there more to say.

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yaachtynoboat711 · 6 years

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Fonder Ch.1

A/N: It’s finally here! Welcome to the series premiere of Fonder. Apparently, y’all were excited as hell for this series, which forced me to write my ass off and force myself to stick to angst. This is definitely going to be much longer than At First Glance was. If you have any feedback, please free to talk to me in either my asks, my messages, or in the notes. Don’t forget to reblog and like!

Warning(s): Angst, Our faves separating, a few typos(?)

Word Count: 1.6K

June 20, 2014, 2:37 PM

Manhattan, New York

New acting endeavors and opportunities called for Winston to decide to make the move to Los Angeles. The success of his Law & Order: SVU episode made him a hot item for more exposure (as it should’ve). With a few more days until his big move, he wanted to show his girlfriend Khalida the final draft of his talent agency contract. Though she wasn’t by any stretch an entertainment lawyer, she understand the deceptive language of contracts and how to counter the finesse. So much so that the final draft of the contract was actually the sixth draft. No one was bullshitting Winston Christopher Duke and his career as long as she was “Black and breathing” as she always said.

She entered his Manhattan apartment as she always did: ringing the doorbell as she unlocked the door with her key. Before she could announce herself , she was sidetracked by the various moving boxes that littering the apartment floor. Pictures and posters that sat or hung throughout the apartment were packed up, making the main room feel much bigger than it was. The furniture had already been sent to his new space in Los Angeles. Winston walked into the living room to meet his girlfriend.

“Hey, you.”, Winston said as he stepped over two boxes to pepper her lips with two kisses.

“Hey,Mr. Hollywood! I didn’t even know your place was this big. You look like you’re ready to go today.”, she laughed as she returned his kisses, “You got that final draft for me?”.

“Of course.” He ran back to his room and returned with a thick stack of papers.

She rested her elbows on the kitchen counter carefully read every page of the contract,occasionally shaking her head or making comments to herself.

“Perfect. Gone ahead and sign. I also came to turn my key in. I’ll be in court when you leave so I came to say that I’ll miss our New York/D.C. weekend excursions and complaining to you about these cold ass days.”, she noted as she looked down and toyed with her keys.

“Well, funny you say that. I was trying to figure out how to ask…”

She sat up from the kitchen counter. “Ask what, Chris?” She helped herself to the second to last Naked Green Machine juice in the bare fridge.

“Ask if you could move in with me?” Silence.

She choked on the juice. Her eyebrows furrowed and a corner of her lip drew into her mouth as though she was processing what Winston just asked her.

“Move to where?”, she responded.

His face turned. “Khalida, be serious. For once.”

“For once?! Fuck you mean for once? You the one asking stupid ass questions and you’re telling me to ‘be serious for once’? On muvas, you trippin.”

“Excuse me? I’m the one asking stupid questions?”

“Hopefully, you’re the only person I’m talking to right now. I can’t move, Winston. We’ve gone over this, yet you don’t wanna listen. What happened to us maintaining the long-distance relationship?”

Winston pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “Because…”, he began, “I feel like this’ll be easier for us to stay together and bond.”

She stared at him with a confused look on her face. “So what the hell have we been doing for the past seven months then? Hmm?”

“I just feel like we can take our relationship to the next lev—“

“—We just started dating. You’re talking about the next level and we’re barely in through the first level. It’s not gonna happen,Chris.”, she shrugged. He walked across the room closer to Khalida.

“Why not,Yaa?”, he exhaled sharply.

“I can’t leave D.C. right now, Chris: I just started my career! Hell, the ink on the lease hasn’t even dried completely, Kimya and I finally are gaining some clientele, and even if I weren’t just starting a few months ago, California’s the last state I’ll ever move to. At least in my right mind.”

“What are you saying?”, Winston scoffed.

“Honey, lemme break it down for you: I’m a lawyer. In order to legally practice law, I have to be barred in insert state or commonwealth here. While there are a handful of states that have a Universal Bar Exam, Cali ain’t one of them. The California State Bar is the hardest bar exam in the country and I’m simply not taking that shit. You’ve decided as an actor that the best move for you and your future is to be closer to the action in Los Angeles. My work is in DC; moving would defeat the purpose. I can’t just stop what I’m still figuring out for someone else.”

He shook his head, “So this has to be easiest decision you’ve ever made, I see. Choosing your career over us? Is this what you’re doing?” He paced the floor.

Khalida pushed off the kitchen counter and walked closer to Winston, “First off, don’t ever do that. You have a career to nurture and grow and so do I. I’m not your possession. Pussy don’t pay the bills,Wins.”,she hissed.

“You still didn’t answer my question, Khalida. Are you choosing your career over us?”

“Why can’t I? Apparently, you’ve done the same and it’s no issue for you. I can’t just drop my career and my purpose for no reason at all. You know what? I gotta catch my train in an hour. Traffic’s a whore, y’know?”

Khalida walked towards the front door, stepping over the moving boxes in her path. Sensing her sincerity, he began running behind her.

“Khalida, if you walk out of that door, consider us done.”, his shaky voice commanded.

Her head whipped around. “Come again?!”

“I said...if you walk out of that door, Khalida, consider us finished.”

Khalida’s bottom lip quivered and tears began falling down her face as she slowly closed the door. Still facing the door, she inhaled deeply. She slowly turned around walked towards Winston, who was now standing in the former dining area. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. Afterwards, she held his hands in hers, placing her key in his palm.

“What’s wrong, baby? Wh-What are you doing? Don’t do this to me, Khalida, please. I love you so much.”, Winston pleaded. His words choked him and he sensed an unsettling feeling come over him. The conclusion.

“I’m so sorry. We need to take some time to ourselves and build our careers and ourselves up. We've gone too fast in such a small window of time. I think for the preservation of us that we should take a break.”, she cupped his face into her hands.

Tears began to well up in Winston’s eyes, “A break? I thought you said you’d be here for me every step of the way.”

“Here isn’t exclusive to the physical, Wins. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here and here.” She pointed at his forehead and heart. “Moreover, you need to be there for yourself. This is what you were made to do. I’m still gonna cheer you on. Plus, I’d rather the plane malfunction on the ground than 10,000 feet in the air.”

The latter part of Khalida’s words hit Winston like a ton of bricks. She said the exact same thing back in New Orleans after Carrie disclosed their inevitable separation. Carrie and Khalida’s words replayed in his subconscious all the time. He never wanted to think about separating from the love of his life. Moreover, he didn’t want to think about how easy it was for Khalida to let go so easily (or so he thought).

Before she walked out of the door, she turned around one last time. “Is this truly what you want,Winston?”, she asked softly.

Winston pondered on her question. He didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t let go. But if it meant saving their special bond, then by all means. He nodded with hesitation. She reluctantly accepted his non-verbal response.

“Okay.”, her voice broke barely above a whisper. She turned around one final time and walked out of the door. “We’ll be back together, I promise.”

When she closed the door, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Seven months worth of memories quickly replayed in her mind. The intimate moments stuck out more. The realization of their end hit her like a truck. “Oh, God.”, she said to herself as her hands rested on her knees to keep her from falling over. Her grief overwhelmed her; the tears released and so too her anger. She was angry with herself for allowing a stupid prophecy for separating them. Before she could allow her spirit of lamentation to further consume her, she ran down the hallway to the elevator.

He was incensed. He was mad at everything and everyone. Mad at Yaa for letting a suggestion tear them apart. Mad as hell with Carrie for even fixing her wicked mouth to even suggest a separation in the first fucking place. Mostly, he was pissed with God for allowing any and all of this to happen. Tears quickly fell from his face as he too lamented over his sudden loss. There was now a void in his heart. He held on to what was left of Yaa: her key. Suddenly, he shot up from his seated position on the floor and chucked the key at the wall. All of the anger,hurt, and confusion went into that one throw. He fell to the ground as his pain grew stronger.

Carrie was right: it was doomed to happen, but only time would tell if absence would make their hearts grow fonder.

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#thefonderseries #winston duke x oc #dukeandthedoctor #winston duke imagine #winston x yaa

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sanerontheinside · 7 years

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feels

uuuuuum I can’t tell if I drifted thru povs however I felt like it, or if it counts as third-person omniscience, but I will say that having an actual panning camera image of the scene as you write it can be very annoying that way.

also this is one of the only scenes I have written in full, and it’s been written for some months now, so I’m dropping it here in a moment of extremely questionable decision-making and doing my best not to question the fact that I just posted a major resolution point.

then again, if this au ever gets written? by the time this scene comes up again it will either have changed significantly, or y’all won’t remember this ever happened, or both. so that’s not so bad.

@deadcatwithaflamethrower, @aidava, hi I blame you for the frankenau

—note: Obi-Wan’s first mission as a Knight leaves him stranded on a planet being invaded and reclaimed by its neighbour world. eventually he does a successful blockade run, only to end up crashlanding on Tatooine. that is where Qui-Gon and Anakin find him. to skip over a lot more detail, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are eventually partnered again, and Anakin becomes their shared Padawan. Also Offworld subsidiaries reappear, which throws everyone for a loop.

He awoke with his throat raw from a scream he couldn’t remember the reason for, which was frustrating. When the Force chose to make itself known, it wasn’t usually so skittish, but this time he had to go digging for the nightmare that had prompted this rude awakening.

“Obi-Wan?”

Shit. “Sorry, Qui-Gon. Didn’t mean to wake you.” He turned, and found himself staring across the encampment at a blearily blinking Jedi Master. Qui-Gon had propped himself up on one elbow on his pallet, his hair spilling over his shoulders in a sleep-tousled mess, deep blue eyes unfocused in the firelight. It was a surprisingly endearing sight, and Obi-Wan mustered an apologetic half-smile for waking him to cover the feeling of warmth he felt bloom in his chest.

“Bad dreams?” Qui-Gon asked, voice deep and sleep-roughened.

Obi-Wan bit his lip, gaze turning inward to finally track down the thread he’d nearly lost just now. “Bandomeer,” he said at last. “I hadn’t thought about that in a long time.”

“Offworld.” When he looked up again, Qui-Gon looked grieved. “Haven’t had to think about that in a long time.” He shifted, then gave Obi-Wan a shy look and raised the corner of his blanket in invitation.

Obi-Wan didn’t let himself think—simply got up, collecting his own blanket and draping it over his Master before settling in under his arm. The easy pressure of Qui-Gon’s breath at his back, the protective limb across his chest pulling him in and holding tight for a moment before relaxing—this comfort, this sense of safety was not one he’d had the chance to feel in long years.

In the Temple, the nightmares eased in Qui-Gon’s quarters, which still felt more like home than his assigned rooms. He ended up on that couch more often than not, and when he did cry out in his sleep—after missions gone horribly or with visions creeping into his dreams—Qui-Gon was there, running his hand through Obi-Wan’s hair and whispering comforts.

Here, though, the entire compound was saturated with a feeling of unease, and it leached into the surrounding woods. They’d wandered off as far as they’d dared, set up a campsite, but apparently not far enough. Obi-Wan’s dream had so unsettled him that his heart still beat rapidly in his chest. After a few moments, as the adrenaline drained away, he felt cold and a fine tremor ran through his body.

Behind him, Qui-Gon sighed deeply. “I think we’ll be awake for some time yet, Obi-Wan. Come on, up—let me stir the fire.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help a faint, shiver-broken chuckle as he shifted to sit alongside his Master, pulling one of the blankets around his shoulders. “Staying awake with the nightmare-plagued Padawan again. Between Anakin and myself, it’s a wonder you’ve gotten any sleep in the last few years.”

“Sleep is something of a privilege rarely afforded to Masters with Padawans,” Qui-Gon informed him, the fond smile he threw over his shoulder warming Obi-Wan better than the struggling campfire.

Qui-Gon finally moved back to their nest of blankets, shifting until he sat shoulder to shoulder with the Knight. “I never meant to take on another Padawan,” he mused softly.

The remark that caught Obi-Wan entirely by surprise. “Qui-Gon?”

His former Master turned half-amused, half-regretful blue eyes on him and studied him calmly. “Certainly not Anakin.”

Obi-Wan tried to shake off the confusion he felt. “But—a nine-year-old boy, never trained to control his emotions, and so strong in the Force—he could put out a sun if he thought about it hard enough. We couldn't just ignore him.”

“Yes.” Qui-Gon looked back at the fire in the centre of their camp, flickering and popping loudly in the gaps between speech. He was seized with a sudden melancholy. “The Council displayed an unusual lack of common sense.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Not so unusual, these days.”

Qui-Gon’s smile was a fleeting thing. “It was a desperate bluff, claiming Anakin as my Padawan.”

He felt Obi-Wan go very still against him, so he pressed on quickly before his agitation could choke him. And his profound shame, too, for the desperation that had coloured his bid to secure Anakin’s future.

“I hoped either Mace or Yoda, or maybe Plo, might dismiss my claim, and take on Anakin themselves.” He sighed and disturbed the blankets in a small ruffle, reaching up to drag his hands over his face. “Worked like a charm,” he added, with humourless laugh. Qui-Gon was not bitter, not in the least.

His former Padawan was staring at him, and Qui-Gon wasn't sure he wanted to know what the expression on his face held.

“I thought you—" Obi-Wan broke off with a slight cough. “You were bluffing?”

Qui-Gon glanced up at last, startled by the disbelief in the exclamation—and more, by some unnamed emotion caught behind tight shields that threatened to wrench itself out of Obi-Wan’s grasp. It almost felt like an old injury pulling at his attention again.

Obi-Wan was grappling with the elder Master’s admission and finding it rather difficult to contend with. “That was not the time, Qui-Gon!” he sputtered at last.

“There was no time, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said softly. “The Council refused to accept Anakin outright, which was completely ridiculous—as though an untrained Force Sensitive of his potential could be any less dangerous than a Sith. I needed them to agree, at least to not turn him away.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to warn you. I didn’t think—couldn't imagine—it would come to that. And I would have explained, afterward, but then—"

Then Naboo. That silent, strained trip through hyperspace, the careful way in which Master and Padawan had avoided each other. Qui-Gon’s features twisted with regret.

“Anakin was a joy to teach, and when you vanished he was the only one left to ground me in reality. It wasn't an easy time for us,” he added with a wry, strained attempt at a smile. “Thank all the little gods we found you, you helped us through so much.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, turned back to stare at the flames again. “Can't say I gave you a chance to say anything.”

Those beautiful blue-green eyes turned inward thoughtfully, and Obi-Wan absently bit at his lip. Then, apropos of nothing he said, “I wanted to ask you if we could remain partnered after my Knighting.”

Qui-Gon shifted in surprise. “Why didn't you?” He watched as the younger man looked away and his shoulders twitched in an aborted shrug, clearly fighting with himself. “Please, Obi-Wan, don't be afraid to tell me.” The flicker of a pained glance in his direction was enough to cause a physical twinge in him, and the silence weighed heavily on Qui-Gon’s mind.

“I thought you didn't want me,” Obi-Wan said at last, quietly. A barely audible hitch in breath escaped Qui-Gon’s control. “Though if truth be told, I was very grateful you weren’t with me on that mission. Nak was—hm. ‘Frustrating’ doesn’t begin to cover that level of Sith hells.”

Qui-Gon scoffed. “My Obi-Wan, better with you to all Sith hells than ever without you. I don't—" he hesitated a moment. “You thought I wouldn't want you?”

The younger Knight curled into himself, feeling small under the weight of that intent gaze. “I didn't realise you were bluffing. You told them I was ready for my Trials, but I didn't feel ready.”

At Qui-Gon's continued silence, Obi-Wan finally dragged his eyes up to meet his former Master's gaze, heart almost shuddering to a stop at the expression he saw there.

“You were long ready, Obi-Wan,” he said solemnly. “I, on the other hand, had done you a great disservice. I trusted you with every mission, and you’d long since been carrying the responsibilities of a Knight, but I thought—I thought I could protect you. I thought I would not lose you if I kept you close.” His attempt at a self-deprecating chuckle sounded pitifully broken even to him. “I didn't realise you'd think of my recommendation for you Trials as a dismissal. But then, how could you not? It was abrupt, presented completely without finesse.”

Qui-Gon broke off and closed his eyes, dragged in a shuddering breath and held it for a count of seven. “We didn't have the finest of beginnings. Old fool that I am, I thought the last few years with our rhythm, our partnership, our bond and the strength that it had—”

“You shut me out, I didn't know what to think.” Obi-Wan shrugged, without a tinge of bitterness.

“Ah.” Obi-Wan glanced up, saw Qui-Gon flinch. “That was—forgive me—"

Obi-Wan watched his former Master stutter to a halt with every false start. Here was a man usually so eloquent, always one to use words to their greatest effect, now incapable of saying something that must have weighed heavily on his mind for a long time.

He reached out and rested a hand over the other man’s, tracing delicate circles over smooth, soft skin. “Qui-Gon?”

“Obi-Wan.” Deep blue eyes opened, gaze intense, and locked with Obi-Wan’s. “There is not a single thing you could ever do that would have made me deny you as my apprentice then, nor now as my Knight-partner and friend.”

“Then why did you block the training bond?”

Qui-Gon winced, but he didn’t look away. “Your nightmares, Obi-Wan.”

“The visions?” Obi-Wan pulled back, surprised. “I—they bled through?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “Only once, when you were still too afraid of losing your place at my side to tell me what they were. I sat with you that night.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I remember.”

“I was always aware of them, even when I did not see them. I remembered them, and I could always tell when they started again. As they did before Naboo.”

The look of frank astonishment on Obi-Wan’s features melted into an aggrieved smile. “You always tell me to live in the moment, and yet that time you chose to listen to visions? What exactly were you thinking of when you blocked me out? What is it that you finally listened to?”

It was some time before Qui-Gon could answer that. His body betrayed him even as his mind tried, needed to get the words out. His throat constricted, refused to give way for any more than a tight pained sound. He let his head fall back, face upturned to the starry sky but eyes unseeing. The stars blurred, distant pinpoints washing out into silvery spots.

“From the moment I faced the Zabrak on Tatooine, I knew what your visions were trying to tell you.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath. Obi-Wan froze, muscles iron-tense all along Qui-Gon’s side, but his voice, when he spoke, was low and wrought of perfect calm. “The figure in black and red.”

“I could barely hold my own against him then, I knew I couldn’t hold him alone on Naboo. Maybe just long enough to weaken him, long enough to let you finish the fight and guarantee your survival.”

Silence. The Force, somewhere, roiled with emotions, but those emotions were all Qui-Gon’s. Obi-Wan hid himself away so well under his shields, Qui-Gon couldn’t sense even a whisper of what he must have felt. He’d imagined anger, which he well deserved. He’d imagined grief, even. But of all the things he might have expected, he’d never even imagined this death-still, accepting calm. A sudden intense pain flared in his chest, a depth of fear and loss he could not even begin to fathom, and he nearly curled into it.

And as if that were the sign for him to let go, Obi-Wan all but exploded. “Dammit, Qui-Gon! What did you always tell me? ‘Live in the Moment, Padawan, the future is always in motion, focus on the here and now’. And then you go and run ahead to face that thing alone. I thought I wasn’t good enough to fight at your side, that I’d failed you, lost your trust. You knew it would kill you, and you thought that would be better than—"

“Better than watching you die, Obi-Wan.”

The quiet words brought him up short, it seemed. Again, Qui-Gon wasn’t sure what to think, but at least the air between them wasn’t frozen still in total impassivity.

He drew a shaky sigh and turned his head away. “Three years later, you still hadn’t returned from a mission that had gone badly sideways, and I was forced to face my greatest fear anyway.”

For a long moment there was nothing but quiet again. He thought Obi-Wan might have dozed off, letting the confession hover over them like the heavy weight it had been all these years. What was a few more hours, anyway, before Obi-Wan was driven from the warmth of their nest of blankets by the morning light—before they never spoke of this again?

Then Qui-Gon hissed, startled, as a cold nose found its way into the join of neck and shoulder, and icy hands burrowed into his robes. “Obi-Wan?” he rasped, bewildered.

Hot tears on his skin, against his cheek, silent shudders wracking the body that pressed close to him. Qui-Gon let out a quiet keening noise at the feeling that wound itself around his chest and squeezed, and pulled Obi-Wan closer, wrapping his arms tightly around the quivering body, one hand sliding up into the copper hair and tightening on the nape of his neck.

It might have been an hour later, drifting on the edge of sleep, swollen, aching eyes soothed by the night cold, that he just barely heard Obi-Wan’s vehement whisper, “Don’t ever do that again, Qui. Promise me.”

Qui? he thought, the smallest smile twitching at his lips. “I promise,” he whispered, solemn.

#the frankenau #Qui-Gon Jinn #Obi-Wan Kenobi #no i am not passive-aggressively responding to some fic/meta/or other that vehemently disagree with wt u talkin about #*sighs* at least I have been writing lately #just lil by lil #bit of a fakemarried #we'll see

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