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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

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Glass Cuts Deepest (3)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, trauma, mention of sexual harassment, violence, swearing, self-destructive behavior ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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What she had done echoed hugely throughout the university. Some looked at her in awe, some in horror wondering why she had done it, whether she really thought he was so good to put up with his awful behaviour.

"What if he keeps humiliating you? Or if he hits you?" Lysa asked as they walked together to their joint Renaissance art history class. She shrugged her shoulders, feeling light and happy.

"I'm only there for a trial, for a month. If I find I don't like it there, I'll go to another workshop. And if he does something to me, I'll report it to the police straight away." She replied briefly, taking it for granted.

If he violated her personal space in such a way she wasn't going to stand idly by, but for some reason she felt that if she respected his boundaries he wouldn't do anything to her.

She hopped up on her bed with joy when she saw an email on her inbox from Cregan informing her of a task for everyone to complete, covered by the competition Professor Targaryen had mentioned at their first meeting.

Good morning, congratulations to you once again and I am sending below the details of the project you need to complete. The first overview sketches are to be made at a scale of 1:5, only the one selected will be made at a scale of 1:1. The project includes 3 windows, each with 8 rectangular quarters. The dimension of the entire window is 10x2 m, the gaps between the quarters are 10 cm on each side. The Bishop would like these three quarters to include a representation of the Mother of God with the Child with a white dove above her, surrounded by the Twelve Aspotols. If you have any questions, I remain at your disposal Cregan

She immediately got to work, calculating the size of each of the quarters on A3 sheets of paper, thinking about how she would like to arrange it, how to show it.

She first thought of a baroque representation, with figures in motion, Our Lady in the centre, the apostles surrounding her as if they were floating towards the sky in clouds together with her.

When she had refined this design sufficiently she decided to take the opportunity that her professor was working on the other side of the room, standing, as always, with his back to her.

She approached him, stopping at an appropriate distance, and grunted quietly, wanting to let him know of her presence.

He glanced at her coolly out of the corner of his eye without ceasing his work, cutting a piece of glass in a confident, fluid motion with the loud swish of a diamond blade.

He picked it up and tapped the back of the handle with the special rounded end against the part of the glass he didn't need, and it broke at the point of cut to form exactly the shape he wanted.

"Lay it down here." He said indifferently, pointing with his chin to an empty spot on the illuminated table next to the glass he was working on.

She placed the piece of paper in front of him and stepped back, waiting anxiously for his opinion, feeling her heart pounding fast as she saw her year mate glance in their direction.

Professor Targaryen cast a quick look at what she had been preparing for the past two days, his face expressing absolutely nothing.

"Overdone and tacky. This is not a competition for the most pompous baroque stained glass. Don't show me things like that again." He said briefly, turning back to his work, and she nodded, tightening her lips and returned to her table, trying to swallow his words and not cry.

She looked at her project again and thought with regret that he was probably right.

It was contrived, as if she wanted to prove to everyone that she could create the most surprising and complicated design.

And after all, it was supposed to be simply the best.

She started to look through more classical stained glass representations from France, Germany, Spain and the UK at home. She noticed with interest that static figures depicted with just the right cuts of glass were suddenly gaining a lot of expression and she thought this was the way out.

She took inspiration for her pose of the Mother of God with the Child from Raphael's Sistine Madonna, but gave her face and hands a softer, more slender expression, her robes arranged in a Gothic manner, with strong creases and folds.

Our Lady stood in the rays of the colour of the setting sun, as if emerging from among the clouds, from the left, through the bottom of the composition, to the right the apostles emerged from behind the window frames, looking at her in silent awe, the whole thing seemed to her calm and solemn, warm.

She made another attempt to approach him. She settled on the opposite side of his table, looking at him expectantly, and he lifted his impatient gaze to her, his lips tightening.

"Are you sure you want to show me this?" He asked warningly, as if he wanted to make sure that if he saw something similar to what he had seen last time again, he would lose patience with her.

She nodded, swallowing quietly.

She really liked this project.

She laid it in front of him − the lead outline and the linear layer were painted with a pen using black ink, the colours of the glass painted with watercolours.

He stopped in mid-motion, looking at what she had drawn − she could see that he was thinking strenuously, his gaze roaming over the entire composition.

"Were you inspired by someone?" He asked coolly, and she nodded quickly.

"Yes, Raphael's Sistine Madonna." She said quickly, and he hummed under his breath, his hand involuntarily escaping to his mouth and chin, looking intensely at her drawing.

"On the left and right the composition is too filled in. You need to leave those four apostles lower, give more space to the background. Let them form an arc under the figure of Our Lady, not half a circle." He began to speak quickly, pointing his finger at the areas of the work he had in mind, and she nodded, visualising his changes, recognising with joy that, indeed, with his corrections it would look much better.

"Yes. You're right, Professor, I will." She said excitedly, looking at him with her eyes wide open, she had the feeling that happiness was literally beaming from her.

He liked it.

He looked at her for a moment, biting his bottom lip, and then lowered his gaze, returning to his work.

"That's all." He said dryly, and she nodded quickly, took her sheet of paper and applied all the corrections he had mentioned, painting and drawing the whole thing again.

Thus approved and prepared, she handed her design to Cregan, who smiled warmly at her.

"Congratulations." He said calmly, and she reciprocated his smile.

Seeing the impatient gaze of their professor looking at them from across the table she moved away from him, picked up her things and left, saying a polite goodbye, wanting to go get something to eat.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she changed into her usual clothes in the toilet − it was getting warmer outside and she was sitting in her workshop in a black t-shirt tucked into long black trousers and dying of heat.

Being already in her summer dress and trainers, she left putting her backpack on her back, heading to the canteen to buy something warm to eat and go to her wall painting class in a completely different building.

She stopped in mid-step and started to take a step back when she saw her professor standing by the coffee machine right in front of her, but she didn't make it − he took his coffee cup and bumped into her, his gaze quickly going from her top to bottom, as if he didn't recognise her for a moment.

She swallowed loudly, lowering her gaze, wanting to disappear, to hide, though she didn't actually know why.

There was something awkward about the situation, as if he had caught her in the act.

He merely hummed under his breath, taking a sip from his cup, and walked past her without a word. She looked back over her shoulder at him, swallowing loudly, wondering if he was frustrated by what he had seen, or if he would be more judgmental and unpleasant to her than usual.

He, however, remained just as indifferent to her presence, acting exactly the same as before. She figured he wasn't cruel enough to expect her to dress that way all the time in case she ran into him.

When it was time for the results of the competition to be announced, everyone gathered in the room he read out the attendance list for the first time. She took her seat at the very end, just as she had done then, waiting impatiently to hear what their professor would say.

"I presented the bishop with the projects which, in my opinion, were the best of those you gave me. He made his choice, announcing that he wanted our workshop to prepare Miss Wright's design for him. I made no objection to that decision." He said dryly, standing in front of them with his hands folded behind him, looking to the side, his voice expressing some kind of weariness, as did his gaze.

They were all silent for a moment and then her colleagues began to congratulate her loudly, Royce sitting next to her embraced her and said that she deserved it.

She looked into her professor's eyes and somehow saw a kind of discomfort and frustration at the sight of such familiarity, so she pulled away politely, covering her mouth in disbelief, unable to believe that he hadn't objected, that he had allowed her to win.

She heard him grunt loudly, shifting from foot to foot, everyone turned their gazes towards him again.

"As I mentioned, the whole workshop will split the work on this big project. Myself and Cregan will take care of the faces and hands, the third year and fourth year students will take care of the robes. The second year students will take care of the backgrounds." He said coolly and she felt a squeeze in her heart, even the other students looked at him surprised, though no one dared to speak up.

Despite the fact that her project had won, she was only supposed to deal with the background?

She lowered her gaze, feeling a squeeze in her throat, Cregan moved restlessly.

"I think if Miss Wright won, let her stay more involved and help cut the robes." He said lightly, intending to sound casual, but Professor Targaryen did not even look at him.

"No. Everyone will perform the work according to their skills. Miss Wright will prepare a 1:1 design in colour and line within a week, numbering each of the templates, and then cut them out herself. That's all, get back to work." He said lowly and left, leaving them alone.

Although she tried to keep a smile, she felt tear after tear run down her face, wiping them away quickly with her hands as her colleagues approached her, trying to comfort her.

"Don't worry. The fact that the professor wants to paint faces for your project means that he really likes it. He doesn't get involved in work that doesn't interest him." Said one of the fourth year boys.

"It's true, be happy that you won and will have an input. It will be our collective success, of the whole workshop, but remember it's your composition and your idea." Said Ned, her yearmate, and she smiled with gratitude.

Despite how their professor behaved, her colleagues showed her great support and understanding, for which she was grateful.

She decided to go along with her professor's decision and spent the next week creating a huge design, cutting a template for each piece of glass with special double-blade scissors that reduced the volume of the card by the thickness of the lead surrounds into which the glass would be embedded.

One day they were even visited by Professor Lannister himself, and hearing of her success and taking advantage of the fact that she was alone in the room, he approached her, smiling in a way she didn't know what to think of.

He was a tall man, with light hair pulled back and an elegantly trimmed beard in a pressed light-coloured shirt and smart trousers − he looked at her large project hanging on the wall behind her with a form of admiration, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't know what you did to Professor Targaryen, but apparently it works. You certainly must have made a great effort." He said and looked at her curiously − she blinked, swallowing loudly, feeling subconsciously uncomfortable at the thought that he was trying to imply something.

"Please don't measure everyone by your standards, Professor." She said lightly so that for a moment he didn't understand what she meant. He glanced at her frowning his eyebrows as soon as the meaning of her words reached him, outraged.

"Are you insinuating something?" He asked roughly and she glared at him, cutting out the template with two intense, firm cuts of her scissors.

"And you, Professor?" She asked, raising her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders, seeing that he swallowed loudly, embarrassed.

She looked away and saw her professor standing in the entrance, measuring Lannister with an anxious, watchful gaze. When the man saw him he became tense, as if caught in the act, and grunted.

"In any case, congratulations again and I wish you well in your future work." He said, forcing a smile, and she reciprocated his gesture, beaming with satisfaction and contentment.

When Professor Lannister left she immediately returned to her work.

She looked up surprised when she saw that for the first time her professor had approached her of his own free will, standing on the opposite side of her table, looking at the templates she had cut so far.

"What did he want?" He asked drily, and she sighed quietly, cutting open the next sheets of paper, numbering them one by one.

"To learn the secret of my success." She replied softly and glanced up at him, his intense gaze fixed on her. She swallowed loudly, feeling shivers from the way he looked at her.

"What did you tell him?" He asked expectantly, coolly, menacingly, clasping his hands on the edge of the table.

She grabbed another piece of paper, unimpressed.

"That he shouldn't measure everyone by his standards. His attitude towards his female students was one of the reasons I didn't want him to teach me." She said quietly, truthfully, wondering if she was crossing the line by saying such things about one professor to another.

She felt that he was still looking at her, although he had always avoided any eye contact, now she felt that his gaze was burning her.

"And you came to ask for a place with a professor who hit his student?" He asked seriously, lowly, and she lifted her gaze to him, feeling her heart pounding hard, sensing that this was her chance to find out what had happened.

"And did you hit her, Professor?" She asked in a trembling voice, feeling that her hands were shaking and she had to concentrate very hard to cut straight.

He was silent for a long moment.

"Yes." He said emotionlessly, indifferently, with a kind of weariness.

She pressed her lips together and swallowed loudly, for some reason afraid to look at him.

"Why did you do that?" She asked quietly, and he chuckled under his breath.

"Does it matter?" He asked, as if the answer was obvious.

"It matters if you did it for no reason or if you were trying to defend yourself against her, sir." She replied wearily, still not looking at him, feeling the atmosphere between them becoming increasingly tense. She heard him snort at her words, surprised.

"In what way could she harm me? Hit me?" He asked mockingly, but there was something in his voice that troubled her, some kind of frustration through which she knew she had hit the target, that something more had really happened there.

"Women can hurt men in all sorts of ways. It's just that they are hardly believed." She whispered and heard him swallow loudly, his chest rising and falling in anxious breaths. She looked at him uncertainly, his healthy eye was wide open.

He was silent for a long moment, she could feel that something was happening to him, his lower lip trembling slightly.

"You prefer to defend the abuser instead of the victim?" He asked in disbelief at last, the corner of his mouth twitching in what she might have called a smile if not for the look in his eyes.

"No. I just know her version of events. I wanted to hear yours before I decided what I thought of you, Professor. I thought it was only fair." She said in a trembling voice, feeling that at that moment she was truly afraid of him.

He did not answer anything for a while, looking at her with a clenched jaw and licked his lips.

"There is no excuse for me. But I don't regret what I did. What do you think about it, Miss Wright?" He asked tauntingly and she looked at him in pain, tightening her lips.

"That I feel sorry for you, Professor. Just like I feel sorry for that girl. I hope you find the decency to apologise to her one day. Excuse me, but I would like to focus on my work." She said quietly, swallowing loudly, feeling regret and disappointment.

She wanted to believe that he wasn't such a bad person, that something had happened that would give him a reason to behave like that.

However, she now knew that she could only count on him in artistic matters, and that in others he could be no authority for her.

She lowered her gaze, returning to her cutting, her hands trembling, feeling that he was still standing in the same place, that he was looking at her, she could hear his accelerated breathing.

After a moment he was gone, she heard him take his leather jacket from the back of his chair and just leave.

From then on it was she who didn't look at him and avoided him even though she saw that he glanced at her occasionally. She knew he was working on detailed sketches for the figure's faces; he was sitting at one of the desks with a sketchbook and pencil, absorbed in his thoughts.

Their gazes met suddenly and she turned away quickly, swallowing loudly.

She knew there was only one day left until the end of the month, after which he was to decide what to do next, whether he would let her stay or kick her out.

She had lost any remnants of a good opinion of him privately, however, he organised their work well and was very dedicated to it − she felt that with him and her colleagues she had learnt more about the subject of stained glass in these few weeks than she had in her entire life so far.

When the day came, however, he was sitting locked in the second room, reserved for him to paint his already-cut glass. This required a lot of concentration and it was easy to make a mistake, so no one disturbed him.

She reasoned that if he had wanted to tell her he was throwing her out, he would have done so immediately.

On her way out of class and walking down the corridor, she saw that the door to the room he was working in was ajar and she looked inside uncertainly. Whatever she thought of him, he was an outstanding painter and she was dying of curiosity as to how he depicted her figures.

Noticing that he had to leave for a moment and that the room was empty, she walked slowly inside, leaning over the illuminated table on which lay the cut, painted and patinated faces of various saints.

Looking at the faces of the apostles, she involuntarily marvelled, noticing the incredible accuracy in the proportions and the lightness with which he had given their faces expression; they seemed both emotional and calm, their faces showing excited anticipation.

Around the glasses were sketches made with pencil that he had prepared beforehand, which accurately represented what he wanted to portray.

She moved on to the face of the Virgin Mary and froze, feeling her heart pounding hard. She looked at the sketch next to it to be sure and swallowed loudly.

Mother of God had her facial features.

Then, when their gazes met, he didn't glance at her casually.

He was portraying her.

She didn't know what to make of it, at once horrified, excited, concerned, shocked. She shuddered when she heard someone's voice behind her.

"Get out." He said lowly, coldly, his gaze menacing, dark, warning. He stood in the entrance with his hands clenched into fists and she wondered how long he had been watching her.

"I'm sorry. I −"

"Get. Out." He repeated in a tone that suggested he wasn't going to say it a third time.

She lowered her head, swallowing loudly, and moved to leave on trembling legs, he, however, caught her firmly by her shoulder as she passed him and stopped her without looking at her.

"Don't ever come in here again without permission. Your painting room is next door. This is my private studio. Do you understand?" He asked in a razor-sharp tone, and she nodded quickly, unable to get anything out.

He let her go and she almost ran out, only drawing in a loud breath in the corridor, she felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest.

His Virgin Mary, the central figure of the whole composition, would have her face.

_____

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lilabella12 · 8 months ago

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1312 - Day 3

Life slowly returns to normal at the Dresden Farm. The grief over the loss of their daughter and sister fades into the background as they do their chores and prepare for the house expansion.

A cold winter chill hangs in the air, but has yet to snow this season. Thankfully the crops they planted seem to be doing fine for now.

The conversation over breakfast turns to family matters.

Emma: "I heard that your brother is doing well and the twin girls are healthy. I was thinking about paying them a visit today, you haven't seen your brother in so long... We didn't even go to the graveyard around All Souls."

Finnian: "It's true... I must visit him soon. Not today, though, I'm close to finishing the shop. You can go, send greetings. Maybe invite them over for next week? We could have a christmas celebration if the twins can travel."

Emma: "Sure, I will ask them. I would love to have a family gathering."

Daniel: "Can I come, too, mother? I haven't seen the twins yet. do they really look alike?"

Emma: "You can, love, we'll take Eve as well so your father can work in peace."

Finnian starts working right away - he really wants this building to be finished, so Emma and the children take the walk to Norwood Farm.

They have a wonderful day playing out in the garden even though the air is cold as ice. Daniel and Eve finally meet their cousins and he's absolutely in awe at Domino, who he had only heard about until now.

Evan notices that Daniel has developed an interest in his stallion and offers to teach him to ride if he comes around again.

Evan: "He's a little difficult, but when he likes you, you can ride him without problems."

Daniel: "I would be happy to try. Can we do it now?"

Evan: "Not now, I think it would be better to try it out in the woods first. But I can teach you some archery if you want to try that, too."

Daniel nodds excitedly.

Eve is a little shy around the family but she warms up quickly and makes fast friends with her cousin Flora. Ida meanwhile sticks more to Daniel, she follows him around the whole day.

When they sit around the fire that evening, Rayla and Daniel talk about her life in the orphanage. Daniel is somehow fascinated by it and when the subject turns to the nuns teaching her to read, he has so many questions.

Rayla: "I could teach you, if you want to. I want to teach the twins as well when they grow up enough to understand it, but you can have the book I learned with until then."

Daniel: "Do you think I can manage it on my own at home?"

Rayla: "Let me show you the basics and you can practice. I can teach you again when we come over for Christmas."

When they get home later in the day, Finnian has finished his workshop! He can finally sell his furniture from his own house instead of relying on contracts. It's only small for now, but it's enough for him.

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#ultimate decades challenge #the sims 4 #sims4 #norwood legacy #gen 1 #medieval #legacy challenge #sims medieval #ts4 #the sims 4 legacy #ts4 legcay #ts4 decades challenge #1310

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sivyera · 2 years ago

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Hiccup Haddock│Fluff alphabet

PAIRING: Hiccup 'Horrendous' Haddock the third x reader

WARNINGS: bad grammar

CONTAINS: fluff

SONG: Always Been You - Shawn Mendes

gif is not mine

A = Attractive. What they find attractive on their s/o?

You eyes. Hiccup finds attractive. Don't get me wrong, Hiccup finds your whole body and face attractive, but your eyes are his favourite. You can communicate with each other through the eyes. He loves when you do something you love, then he can see little stars in your eyes and that's just so incredible for him. It's incomprehensible for him how you can make him happy with just one look.

B = Beauty. What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Like I already said, Hiccup finds everything about you attractive but he admires your passion. When he finds out you have the same passion for dragons like him, he was surprised but so happy. You have passion for everything you love and he loves seeing you while you do something you love. Sometimes he wants to join you when you doing something you love, get to know you more and see your concentrated expression while you teach him it.

C = Cuddle. How they cuddle with they s/o?

D = Dates. What are dates with them like?

Dates are mostly simple but cute. Like little picnic by the river, stargazing, helping him in the workshop making saddles and other things for dragon riders or just go on a walk around whole Berk. Picnics are when he feels extra romantic or on valentines. Stargazing is the thing you do most often together. When one of you can't sleep, you mostly go on a roof and just stare at the starts; look for constellations. And after a few minutes the other comes to you because neither one of you can't sleep without the other. Helping him in the workshop is mostly when you see that he is extremely tired; which he really appreciate. And going on a walk around the whole Berk is when you have so much things to talk about. Toothless would probably join you.

E = Everything. You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)

'You are my world'

F = Feelings. When did they know they were falling in love?

Look Hiccup really didn't have friends before Toothless so when you start talking to him and be friends with him, he knew it wouldn't take long to fall in love with you. But he really didn't want to ruin his new build up friendship so he waited a couple of months. But after couple of months he realized he loves you to the moon and back.

G = Gentle. Are they gentle with their s/o?

You wouldn't find more gentle boy than Hiccup. Sometimes he act like you are made of glass. He always gently holds your hand or softly stroke your head. Soft kisses on side of your head or on your cheek. Gently grab you by the waist and pull you closer to him. Slowly stroke your back up and down while cuddling.

H = Honesty. Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

He doesn't hide from you anything. And he is honest with you too. If he doesn't like something he will say it in as soft was as he can. But he really was alone before you and Toothless so he was really glad when he find someone like you; who he can trust and talk about everything.

I = Impression. First impression/s?

He was in awe and he couldn't believe it. Someone actually talked to him (who wasn't his father or Gobber) and liked spending time with him. I can't say how much happy he was and I'm not gonna lie - at first he thought it's some kind of prank or joke, but when you prove him that you actually want and like talk to him, you had him. He was also really flustered around you.

J = Jealousy. Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Hiccup gets jealous pretty easily but he is really good at hiding it. He just frowned and stare for a while at the person who is flirting with you. But sometimes when he had enough he come to you, grab your waist and drag you away from the person. And when he feels extra jealous he kiss you in front of the person while making eye contact with them, to tell them that you're taken.

K = Kiss. How do they kiss their s/o?

Slow, passionate, sweet kisses. The type of kisses which steal your breath away. He doesn't have any experience with kissing or dating, you taught him everything. You were his first kiss and his first love. You both teach each other lots of things in your relationship.

L = Love Confession. How would they confess to their s/o?

Hiccup would be very nervous when he decided to tell you his feelings for you. He would come to you with three or four flowers (he probably come with sunflowers) and start mumbling, stuttering you know and being little awkward. He practise his love confession on Toothless. But after a few interrupting himself he finally tell you.

M = Marriage. Do they want to get married? How do they propose?

Yes, he wants to marry you. He would propose you after a war with Drago, because he realized how easy he could lose you. And he can't lose you, so he wants to make sure you are 'really' his, because you never know what can happened.

N = Nicknames. What do they call their s/o?

'My love, m'lady, ma'am' These mostly often. But sometimes when you two joke around, he call you 'sunshine, honey, sweetheart'

O = On Cloud Nine. What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others?

It is obvious for others because he is more protective than usual. Hiccup really protect those he love and he loves you more than anything, so he would be really protective. I can say he is overprotective. But he is just really scared of that he will lose you. First he didn't have a mother, than he had a whole family for a few hours and than he lost his father, so don't blame him.

P = PDA. Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others?

He is somewhere in the middle. He would kiss you, hug you, put his arm around your waist/shoulder but that's everything. Some of your parts are only for his eyes. And your intimity isn't for anyone else, just for you two.

Q = Quirk. Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He can calm you down. He have some kind of comfort/kind aura that always calms you down. But when you are overwhelmed with things he will be right next to you in seconds. He'd pull you into his lap, put his hands on your cheeks and kiss you. Then you would buried your face into his chest and listen his heart beat. He would stroke you back and start talking about his day so you can listen to him and not thinking about the things that bother you.

R = Romance. How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Hiccup is actually pretty romantic. He is creative, so he always come up with something new. His ideas and trips are always amazing. He is really talented on drawing and sketching, he's secretly drawing you, so he can have your portrait when he's away.

S = Support. Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

You are his other half, of course he believes in you! He see how strong you are, both mentally and physically. You both encourage each other without even knowing it. You two are a powerful couple and you are both teaching each other to new things, which is always good.

T = Talking. What do they like to talk about?

You, Toothless and new islands. With you he loves exploring and finding new islands, he likes to talk about them; like which dragon he would find there. With Toothless he loves talking about you, even he knows Toothless won't answer him, but he always make some annoyed or agreement sound.

U = Understanding. How good do they know their partner?

Like I said before, you both are teaching each other many things without knowing it. So yes, he knows you pretty well. He loves learning new things about you, like you love learning new things about him. I can say you two look like old married couple. Both of you know everything about each other and still love each other, even for the smallest or weirdest things.

V = Value. How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

You are not just his love, you are the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. So yours relationship is the most important thing for him. You relationship is strong and healthy which means there is nothing what you two can't handle together.

W = Wild Card. A random Fluff Headcanon.

Hiccup loves exploring and finding new islands/places. And he loves doing it wit you. Because you can spend whole day (sometimes few days) together. Most important you are in privacy. He can talk or do with you whatever and whenever he want without interruption by someone. When you two finds a new island, he pull you into his lap while he is putting it in his map. You always watch sunsets together - on new islands/places.

X = Xylophone. What’s song describe your relationship?

Ho Hey - The Lumineers

'I belong with you, you belong with me. You're my sweetheart' -The Lumineers

Y = Yearning. How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He have your portrait still by him, he hides it in his suit so whenever he miss you he looked at it and feels better. But none art can replace you. He is less happy when he misses you. But after seeing you again he gets really clingy.

Z = Zebra. If they wanted a pet, what would they get?

A dog or a wolf. I don't know if there is any dogs or wolfs but if is, then he would want one of them.

#hiccup haddock fluff alphabet #fluff alphabet #httyd fluff #httyd fluff alphabet #httyd 1 #httyd 2 #httyd 3 #hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup x reader #hiccup haddock the third x reader #hiccup horrendous haddock the third x reader #httyd hiccup #httyd hiccup x reader #httyd hiccup haddock #httyd hiccup haddock x reader #httyd 2 hiccup #httyd 2 hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #httyd x reader

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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years ago

Note

hi!! uh, if you don't mind,, id like to request the four lords reactions to their s/o bringing home a lycan and bein like,, "new doggy"

because who doesn't like surprise pets, am I right?

Hiii, okay so this is very rushed and short so i apologise but rn writing is going to be slower for a while :(( i hope this is okay regardless! everyone enjoy

Alcina Dimitrescu

“What is that awful smell? It smells like something died in here!”

Alcina turns her attention to see you standing in the dining hall with a dripping wet lycan puppy in you arms.

You found the poor thing alone in the rain outside of the lycan den, he’s clearly the runt of the pack and your heart melted when you saw him. Obviously you couldn’t help but take it with you.

You stand before the Lady Dimitrescu with a pleading look in your eyes. The lycan pup was wiggling in your grip, his tail getting water all over the carpet as it moves with excitement.

Alcina opened her mouth to protest but the minute her daughters walked into the room the argument was already lost. Judging by their reactions, it would seem the little lycan is staying.

At first she hated the lycan running around her castle, constantly comparing him to that of her brother but he surprisingly still had a lot of his human intelligence and learnt very quickly not to scratch the ornate wooden doors or rip the curtains or chew the bottom of Alcina’s dress. Soon the pup became a household favourite.

Alcina will deny she likes the puppy till the day she dies but you’ve seen her enough times curled up on the couch with him or cuddling him in your bedroom to know that’s not true.

Donna Beneveinto

Donna is sitting peacefully on the couch, a cup of tea brewing in the pot while she works on stitching in some embroidery onto a new dress she’s working on when a brown ball of fur comes barrelling through the door.

Angie and yourself come after it, trying to chase the thing she now recognises as a lycan puppy. Eventually Angie manages to heave him into the air for enough time while you pick it up and hug him close.

“DONNA LOOK WHAT WE FOUND!! A PUPPY! OH WE HAVE TO KEEP HIM!”

Donna stares at the puppy in your arms, he wriggles constantly with his tongue hanging out, panting wildly. He looks around without a care in the world, like a child that doesn’t understand what everyone is saying.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea… what about my porcelain dolls.”

You and Angie pull the biggest pout you can muster and say your cheesiest “please” that’s king drawn out and whiny.

“We’ll train him Dons, I promise that nothing will be broken.”

The little lycan does learn quickly that the dolls are not to be touched and instead finds pleasure in chasing around the imaginary enemies in Donna’s garden.

All three of you love the puppy and love having another chaotic member of the household.

It always brings a smile to your face and Donna’s to see Angie on his back with a stick raised into the air like a sword saying,

“Onwards noble steed!”

Salvatore Moreau

Poor Salvatore is terrified of the lycan puppy when he sees you bring it to him. He instantly runs to the other end of the room to hide behind the tv.

“It’s alright Sal it won’t bite, see?”

You slowly crouch down beside him and take his hand gently in your own, bring your joined hands to the soft fur.

You sit together for the better part of an hour just slowly petting the little pup, allowing Sal time to get comfortable.

Eventually he grows to love the puppy, finding it cute when he’d return from adventures with sticks to gift him.

You love going on walks around the reservoir but the pup’s curiosity meant he has jumped into the water too many times to count.

Sal grows very attached to the pup and smothers him with hugs and kisses constantly. He’s definitely spoiled without a doubt.

He’s also very protective and researches all about how to care for a puppy and makes sure he gets all the essentials.

The lycan finds bubbles of slime around the mines and always tries to burst them with his canines, thank god it’s not toxic and just sticky because he comes running through the door with green all over his mouth as he licks at both your faces.

Karl Heisenberg

“No, we’re not keeping that pup. I already have too much on with the factory and Miranda, I do not need another distraction.”

You knew Karl could be stubborn but you could be too and there was no way you were gonna back down from keeping this Lycan puppy.

“Aw common look at him! He’s so cute and fluffy, how could you say no to that face!”

You scratch at its belly, watching the way tail picks up and wags at your affection. You hold the little lycan out to Karl who looks like he’s about to refuse until he lets out the softest little howl and he won him over in an instant

Karl explained to you that the pup must have been the runt or abandoned since he was much smaller and fragile compared to the ones he’s raised before. It would make sense since you rescued him on the outskirts of the village, completely abandoned and alone.

It only made the two of you love the little one even more and while Karl would never admit it, he’s a soft spot for him.

You’ve walked into Karl’s workshop to see him completely distracted by him, playing fetch with a spanner and teaching him tricks.

The one that really melted your heart was seeing Karl curled up on the bed in a pile of blankets, the little lycan asleep on his chest and the two of them snoring quietly.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #salvatore moreau #salvatore moreau x reader #resident evil headcanons #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil #prompt #asks

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cathey-winchester-666 · 3 years ago

Text

Mikey x Mechanic!Reader

Summary: A list of headcanons about Mikey's relationship with his mechanic. Gn!Reader (I didn't bother to read through, please let me know if I messed up the pronouns!!)

Warnings: Swearing, some violence, mentions of kidnapping??? (but it's just a joke), reader is a badass

How you first meet:

The first time you two meet, it is because he's somehow managed to damage his bike.

Like, to the point where all of the mechanics he goes to are like:

"Dude, this is unfixable"

"There's nothing I can do to help you now"

"I'm afraid you're just going to have to buy a new one"

And he' getting increasingly frustrated, but still refuses to give up

But then, one of them goes:

"Hey, I might know someone that can help"

And they give the address of this small, rundown shop in the middle of nowhere

At first they think it's deserted and they're ready to go back to that mechanic and give them a piece of their mind

But then the sound of a long string of cuss words comes from within

So Mickey and Draken go in further to investigate and find you,

Stuck head first inside the bonnet of the car

And they're both thinking:

"Seriously, this is the one supposed to help us."

But then they pull you out of the engine and turn you to face the bike, explaining the hopeless situation

You take one look and go:

"Yup! Sounds like challenge!"

And instantly get to work

Whilst working:

During the time that you're spent fixing the bike, Mikey is a constant visitor

And it hits a point where you hear footsteps and, without even looking up, you instantly go:

"No Mikey, I already told you, the bike isn't ready yet."

But the footsteps don't stop

And now all 5 feet of his badass blonde hair is breathing on your collarbone

"Mikey, I can't concentrate with you breathing down my neck like that."

"Right, sorry."

And he pulls away.

But only a little bit.

And now he's breathing on the back of your shoulder.

"Mikey!"

"Alright! Alright!"

He pulls away and goes to sit down on a stool so he can watch you work

His dark eyes follow every little move you make

He flinches every time the bike makes a sound it doesn't usually

And you have to sigh and reassure him that everything is fine

Constantly explaining what you're doing as you're working

Without even realising you're using smart engineering language that he doesn't even remotely understand

but he listens anyway because he's starting to like the sound of your voice

Sometimes Draken will come over and you'll get to use your proper engineering language because he's able to keep up with what you're saying

You'll also sometimes teach him some new stuff he didn't know before

He also helps out with the stuff that he does understand, so the process goes a lot faster

Mikey sits there all jealous because you two are getting along so well and you're really enthusiastic about whatever it is that you're talking about that he doesn't understand

He wants to stop you two but he also can't get involved in the conversation because he has no idea what you're talking about and he's trying to hide he's obvious jealousy

Draken 100% knows

Some nights, Mikey even stays at the workshop with you

There's a small couch in the corner of the garage that he sleeps on

You used to have to call Draken to come pick him up

Now, you just throw a spare blanket over his exhausted form

One night, you even brushed a piece of blond hair away from his face and his nose scrunched up very cutely before he leaned in slightly to your touch

Cue you having an absolute seizure over how cute this man is when he's all relaxed and passed out

Anywho

Whilst fixing the bike, there would definitely be moments when he would hop up and lean over your working space

You would look at him

Give a small smile and ask

"Do you want to give it a go?"

Cue the biggest, brightest, happiest smile on his face as he enthusiastically picks up the closest tool on hand

Which is often not even remotely the right one

And you fall even further as you try to explain, in the most basic terms humanly possible, how to go about fixing this area of the bike

When trouble comes a-knocking:

Being affiliated with the leader of the Toman gang

Trouble is naturally going to find you

Especially when news gets out that you're the only one capable of fixing the leader's most precious and prized possession

His bike

Luckily for you, you're a certified badass

The first group that came in looking for trouble was a rather small one

However, you know the kind of neighbourhood you live in

And you always do research on your clients so you know what you're getting yourself into

You knew this would happen

And you came prepared. ;)

So when they first rocked up at your door

You came at them, all guns blazing

You ever seen Home Alone (if not, I totally recommend)

Well, it was basically like that

T R A P S

All the classics

Hot iron in the face

Marbles and nails on the floor

Paint can to the head

Glue and feathers

And then the more deadly ones

Kerosene, oil or petrol (you work in a garage my dudes, there's never a short supply) and then once they're soaked, an innocent match has them screaming to get away

For this next one, you need a layout of the building

There is a second level, which is all but busted and destroyed, you've laid out planks along the ground of the second level and you know which parts are safe

Through the holes in the floor, you can drop all sorts of things

Hammers

Poles

Wrenches

Rats and mice

Childhood trauma

You name it

And if anyone makes it to the second level, chances are, they'll end up falling through the floor

If they realise where it is safe to stand, keep in mind, you're super ripped from working machinery all day every day

And you've been practicing where it's safe to stand on this roof for a fight for as long as you can remember

Moving up there is second nature to you, an instinct, if you will

But it's all completely new to them

And, if I hadn't mentioned it before, you're a badass

So, by the time Mikey and his crew rock up at the garage, ready to take on a small army,

You've already got the entire enemy gang on the floor crying and begging for mercy whilst you stand over them, confidently swinging a mallet with a menacing grin on your face

And Mikey finds himself falling for you, just that little bit more

Once the bike is finished:

Once you've finally finished the bike

Mikey is instantly at your side

And you take a step back as he slowly examines every little section of the bike

And he's in awe

Not just because it's a spitting image of the real thing

But because it still has all the memories

The scratch from when he and Draken thought it was a good idea to attempt riding in the forest

That one time he tried to flirt with a lady by leaning on his bike, and inevitably knocked it over

All those little things

And you'd managed to keep them

"THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK-"

God, it takes forever to finally shut him up

"So, how much do I owe you?"

You'd thought about your answer to this for a while and finally come to the conclusion of what you really wanted out of this

"Well that depends, how much are you willing to pay?"

"Anything. You can't put a price on this bike, I assure you."

"Well in that case."

With a final deep breath, you place a hand on your hip and cock it, pointing a finger at Mikey's face

"I'd like to work as your gang's permanent mechanic!"

His reply startles you

"You heard them, Pah-chin, the kidnapping is off."

There's an audible sigh from behind you and the mentioned male slumps out from the shadows, a felt bag and some rope in hand

"... and this is???"

You turn to ask Mikey

"Well it was going to be a kidnapping."

A dejected Pah-chin answers for the blonde

Bitch, I beg your pardon, it was going to be a what now

"You were planning to KiDnAp mE???"

"Welcome to Toman!"

He cheers as he wheels his fixed bike out of the shop

"THAT DOESN'T ANSWER MY QUESTION!"

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shyficwriter · 3 years ago

Text

Temporary Home: Chapter 14

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: The guardians keep trying to include you in various activities to keep your mind off what's troubling you since you won't talk about it. However, one of these activities turns out to have a, shall we say... slightly less than desired outcome.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Thank you to @quillsandtypos, @theambracer88, @mcugiggles, @marvelouslyfluffy and all the anons who participated in my questionnaire post! As you probably guessed, I'll be using the answers (and any future ones, if anyone else still wants to play) to complete some fluffy scenes in the story! Also, for my records this chapter ends on day 23 of the Guardians living with reader. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4,683

Rocket, though he finally had a way to repair the device, had decided to wait a bit before actually doing so. Hell, he had waited this long, certain that his smuggling had been in vain once he found one of the parts had broken on... ahem, "departure," so what was another day or two? It was obvious they were going to be here awhile anyway, so he wasn't too rushed.

One might wonder, how was Rocket able to smuggle anything if SHIELD had searched him, already having found and confiscated contraband he had hidden in his "back pocket?"

Well, Rocket wasn't an idiot. He knew of other ways to smuggle goods on his person. Or, in his person, rather. That being said, maybe to say he wasn't an idiot might be giving him a bit too much credit... Swallowing the pieces of a small data pad might not have been exactly the safest thing to do, though he had given himself a pat on the back for rightfully assuming the Terran's wouldn't think to put him through a body scanner.

He had been damned lucky that nothing had gotten lodged or had punctured any of his innards on the way through, but hey, it worked, didn't it?

Well, mostly.

As said, a part had broken on "departure," which he of course blamed on Gamora and Mantis for rushing him in the bathroom that first day. If that bug-eyed chick didn't have such a tiny bladder then he could have allowed for a more "graceful landing."

No matter, he now had a way to fix it thanks to you. This had admittedly softened his attitude towards you the tiniest bit, though he wasn't going to admit it, nor was he going to completely let his guard down. Use of your workshop was probably just another bribe to win his favor, after all. Just like the bed. He was definitely going to take advantage of it, don't get him wrong. He wasn't just not going to use the tools available to him. Just like he wasn't going to just not sleep in the bed you built him. It was better than sleeping in the crib, though he had been grateful the crib had been left in the room when you left the bed. He had been hiding the pieces of the smuggled device under the crib's mattress -the only good use he saw for it, other than the fact that Groot actually slept pretty well in it- because boy, if the others had found out he had smuggled that in, they would have been pissed. Hence, why he wasn't in too big a hurry to fix it just yet.

Perhaps it couldn't hurt to maybe fix that broken stool in the shed for you, though. Just for a warm up, not because he thought he owed you anything, of course.

***

The evening of the check-in you had found yourself with nothing to do and back in the thoughts that had plagued you since the couple came, and you once again considered pouring yourself a glass or two of whiskey.

Yondu had been leaning against the counter enjoying a snack when he saw you retrieve the bottle from the fridge. Remembering the previous night he raised an eyebrow at you. The last thing he wanted was to witness a repeat, but thought he'd still keep an eye on you. Cut you off again before/if you started to look a little too "weepy." He had doubts that you even remembered what you'd done the previous night, and this was confirmed when he made a lighthearted comment about, "Ya goin' to take it easy tonight, or will I be needin' to cut you off again?" and you raised an eyebrow at him before saying, "What? You didn'- Oh right- I think I do remember you taking my drink now that you mention it," as you set the bottle on the table and went to retrieve a glass from the cupboard.

You now sported a slight blush and, pausing your actions, asked, "I um, didn't say or do anything embarrassing to have warranted that, did I?"

Yondu looked you right in the eye, and lied. "Nope. It was just clear ya had a bit much. Figured I'd save yer wimpy Terran liver." He laughed at your slight pout and added, "Ya just whined at me fer takin' yer drink and then fell asleep. Nuttin' too excitin'."

Yondu could see the relief on your face and it solidified his lack of regret of not telling you. Sure, he might have wanted to crack the mystery to see why you were the way you were, but not like that. He hadn't expected the previous night's display, and if anything, it made him feel like he should back off. Yes, it prompted more burning questions, but even he knew there were some things you just didn't pry into.

Around that time Peter and Kraglin came into the kitchen, messing about and horse-playing. You considered telling them to break it up, but then decided you didn't actually care enough as long as they weren't about to break anything... or anyone. You were about to make your standard polite offer of a drink when suddenly a rip was heard and Peter whined out, "Aw man! You ripped my favorite shirt!"

Sure enough, their rough-housing had managed to rip the seam along the left-shoulder of Peter's dark blue shirt, leaving a sizable hole of a couple inches long that revealed another white shirt underneath.

You rolled your eyes and told him where he could find the sewing kit.

Peter looked at you sheepishly and said, "I don't know how to sew."

You sighed and said, "I guess I'm not doing anything..." and you began to walk towards him and the exit of the kitchen, abandoning the bottle of whiskey on the table without having poured a drink.

Peter took off his ripped shirt and in a surprised voice said, "Oh!- Thanks-" starting to hand you the shirt as you walked past.

You didn't take the shirt, just looked at him as a laugh escaped your throat. "I didn't say I'd do it for you. I meant I'll teach you." With that you cocked your head towards the door and headed out towards the sitting room.

As you walked away you shook your head and muttered something Peter couldn't hear but assumed was an insult as he blushed both from embarrassment at his mistake and from hearing Yondu and Kraglin now laughing at him. He wordlessly followed, not wishing to make more of a fool of himself.

Watching Peter leave, inspiration struck Yondu. It might be overstepping, and might have been a long shot, but it was worth a try. He nudged Kraglin in the arm to get his attention. "Ya remember last night? How things got a little too..." he searched for the right word.

Kraglin finished for him, "Sad? Yeah. I remember." He caught sight of the bottle on the table. "She back at it tonight?" He and Yondu hadn't discussed what happened when he had returned to the kitchen after walking you to your room. It had gone unsaid that you were in a bad way.

"She was gonna," Yondu answered, "but then you two came in and gave her something to distract herself. Might not hurt to keep doing that for a bit."

"Ya wanna keep her busy?" Kraglin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Better than watchin' her drown herself in a bottle," Yondu replied flippantly with a shrug, but Kraglin could see through his blasé attitude.

He was slightly surprised, but not completely opposed to Yondu's suggestion. You had been drinking a lot the past few days. It didn't take a genius to see that something was obviously wrong, and he knew better that drinking like that only made sad feelings worse. If this had been the Eclector, and you part of the crew, he or Yondu would have cut you off well before now once they saw the pit you were digging. You just don't let sad people drink themselves into a stupor. It's bad form. But this wasn't the ship, and you weren't crew, and they couldn't stop you. They were in your house. They've barely known you for three weeks. He knew they couldn't just order you around, but if a little bit of distraction kept him from seeing you looking that sad again and kept you from hiding in the bottom of a bottle, he was for it.

Yondu spoke again, more or less repeating Kraglin's thoughts back at him. "I know we're on her turf, but someone's gotta do somethin'. It's bad form to just let h- to just to let a person drown like that. She needs to get her mind off what's been troubling her."

Kraglin examined the former captain's features. There was something else there. An emotion behind his eyes the first mate was familiar with after years of faithful service. Cap'n might not always be the best at admitting his softer feelings, but Kraglin knew. He could see it.

It was a look similar to the one he wore after he finished telling Rocket just how alike they were, right before they went to fight Ego. It was the same look in his eyes he had shortly after Peter came aboard the Eclector as a boy and it was decided he wasn't going to be delivered to Ego. One Kraglin even thought he recognized being on the receiving end of when he was a younger lad on the crew.

Kraglin smiled, a soft mix of understanding and sadness. "Sir," he said gently.

Yondu grunted in response and glanced at him.

"First, I do agree with ya, we should help keep her mind off it, but I just gotta say this too." He sighed before continuing. He knew Yondu wasn't going to like what he was about to say, but they were alone now, so he felt safe to say it. He knew if he said this in front of anyone else it'd a a surefire way to put Yondu dangerously close to whistling territory. "We can't be getting too attached, now."

Yondu glared at him. "Who said anythin' about-"

"Sir, all respect and all, but I think I can say I know ya better than anyone else here." Kraglin said, having cut Yondu off with a slight chuckle. "I can see it, I can tell when you're getting attached." His tone got slightly more serious, more comforting. "I don't think it'll be good for ya to get too attached, sir. We'll be leaving here eventually, and we know she ain't gonna be coming with us."

Yondu set his mouth in a firm line and stared Kraglin down hard but didn't say anything. He knew his first mate was right, but that didn't mean he had to admit it. Finally he answered with, "I ain't gettin' attached to nuttin' or nobody."

Kraglin sighed. If he knew anything else it was that Yondu could also be stubborn as hell. If he wanted to live in denial, well there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. "Alright, sir," he said with a shake of his head. "I believe ya." He didn't, and his tone betrayed that, earning him a narrowed eyed look from Yondu, but they dropped the conversation, at least for now.

***

Showing Peter how to sew went fairly smoothly. He seemed to grasp the concept well enough, watching you sew the first third of the tear - not the easiest task with your brace on- and then repeating what you had shown him on the rest himself. He finished soon enough and thanked you before leaving the table.

However, almost immediately after that Kraglin showed up with something ripped and asked if you could teach him too. You sighed, and mildly scolded him about how come he couldn't have asked while you were showing Peter, but you agreed regardless. Again, it wasn't exactly the easiest task considering you only had a limited range of motion to move your arm, but you managed. After he finally seemed to get it (he asked a lot of questions, even if he understood, assuming it'd be helpful to keep you occupied for longer) you noticed it had gotten dark out, and you were tired anyway, and so when it looked like he had a handle on it you decided to just go to bed.

***

The next day it seemed like people just kept asking you to do things. Not like they were ordering you around, but more like asking you to do things with them, which they hadn't often done.

It wasn't all bad, but you had the feeling it wasn't just a coincidence that they were seemingly trying to keep you engaged in various tasks and activities after Maria had informed you that one of them had expressed concerns about your well-being. You didn't know if they were now acting on their own or if Fury or Agent Hill had suggested it, but either way you figured you'd just roll with it. If you made an effort maybe they'd be happy and drop it.

That morning, before you realized what was going on, Mantis came to you with a book on plants and asked you to help her identify different plants around the property. You had almost said no, perhaps another time, but then you saw the expectant look on her happy face and decided you had time to kill anyway, so what could it hurt?

It was about when you were asked by Mantis and Drax to join the others for a game of UNO that you started to suspect what was going on.

Before this, Peter had kept coming up to you wanting to show you funny videos he found, having recently discovered the YouTube app on the TV; Yondu had come to you with an archery book and tried making small-talk asking about Terran types of archery; and Gamora and Kraglin asked you to help ref while everyone sparred.

You had agreed to reffing, feeling a little better than you had been all those days you had refused and now therefore not seeing any reason not to.

It was a slight bummer though, needing to sit on the sidelines and watching others train, but you supposed watching them to see if they knew any cool 'space moves' couldn't hurt. Plus, watching how the raccoon was able to hold his own against human-sized opponents was always interesting. Groot sat with you, not being permitted to spar with the others (except for when Rocket would decide to pretend spar with him, just to make him happy) and he was adorable as he played with the grass, so it wasn't all bad.

After that everyone else was pretty much tired, but Groot came up to you with the car you had given him, holding it above his head. You raised an eyebrow and looked to Peter, who informed you that the little guy wanted you to push him on it. You did, because how could you possibly say no to that?

What was cute to Peter, however, was the fact that no one had prompted Groot to do that. He just genuinely wanted you to play with him.

After a while of playing with Groot is when Mantis and Drax had come to you about playing UNO. Now you were getting a hint of what they were doing, but you agreed to play a few games with them anyway. You even caught yourself actually starting to have fun.

Around suppertime Peter came up to you, asking if you could teach him how to cook something. He talked about how he thought it'd be fun to learn to cook more things from his home world, and also reminded you how you did say several times that he could 'help you cook later.'

You sighed and after some more prodding from Peter you finally agreed, asking him what he might like to learn how to cook.

Peter looked like a deer in the headlights before admitting that he didn't actually know. He didn't remember a whole lot of different Terran foods from when he was a kid, and he was now drawing a blank.

You nodded towards the kitchen and told him the two of you would figure it out.

After looking for a bit you decided on a vegetable stew, mostly because this had been unexpected and you hadn't pulled any meat from the freezer to thaw.

Peter was surprisingly not bad at it. He handled the knife safely, he cut the vegetables evenly, and he listened as you told him what to do and when. You wondered if he had some experience cooking before, but you didn't ask.

After dinner Gamora wouldn't take no for an answer on helping with the dishes, of course using your injury as an excuse. You sighed, but allowed it, agreeing to dry while she washed, still under the impression that if you just indulged them for a bit they'd eventually stop and start leaving you along again.

Just as you finished Peter came to the two of you asking if you wanted to see a new movie he found on Netflix.

Figuring it wouldn't hurt to make an effort, you agreed to watching a movie with them and followed into the sitting room, wondering what film he had picked out.

Turned out, he had chosen a horror movie. Candy Man.

You sighed. Obviously you weren't completely immune to jump scares, but you didn't really mind horror movies. You could even go as far to say that you enjoyed most of them. However, you were concerned about Mantis, who you could see sitting happily on the rug in front of the couch next to Rocket as you entered the room.

"Are you sure this movie is appropriate for everyone?" you ask Peter.

"What? You scARed?" Rocket taunted with a smirk, and it was then that you saw Groot on the rug as well, having been sitting in Rocket's lap.

You roll your eyes and explain that your concerns were for the wooden child and Mantis, as your time spent with them hadn't made you very confident that they would recieve a scary movie well. "I'm more concerned the movie's gonna give them nightmares," you explained as you took a seat at the end of the couch.

Gamora seemed to agree with you, but the two of you were outvoted. Rocket just rolled his eyes and snarked that he bet you were scared, and Mantis assured excitedly that she could watch it. Groot, even though you couldn't understand him, also seemed adamant. You had a feeling they didn't really know what they were getting into, but combined with the fact that Mantis was an adult, and Groot wasn't your child, and Peter was doing his best to convince you and Gamora that everything would be fine, you eventually gave in, stating, "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. She better not crawl into my bed tonight. I'll send her your way."

Peter just laughed and shook his head, not taking you seriously, before turning out the lights and taking a seat next to Gamora at the other end of the couch. Kraglin took the last available seat between you and Peter and Rocket smarted off again.

"If you're gonna get scared maybe Kraglin will hold your hand!" he laughed as Peter turned on the film.

You rolled your eyes at him and crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at Kraglin to give the rodent any satisfaction that he might have succeeded in embarrassing you. This, Kraglin was grateful for, because he was sort of an easy blusher, and he didn't want you to get the wrong idea. He just gave Rocket an unamused look, but he was also grateful the lights had been dimmed so that Yondu couldn't see him blushing and then tease him for it. Whether or not the former Ravager captain would actually believe Kraglin might have managed to develop feelings for you wouldn't matter. That fact that Kraglin had just told Yondu the previous night that he shouldn't be getting attached would be enough for him to jump on it and tease the hell out of him purely out of spite.

Despite the movie being old, it was still relatively new to you. You had heard about it, thought you remembered seeing a commercial or maybe a clip or two of it over the years, but this had been your first time actually watching it.

It was about halfway though and nothing terribly scary had happened yet. There was the flashback scene of a little boy having been mutilated that made you cringe, as any show that featured little kids being harmed always hit a sore spot, but it didn't really show much more than a bloody bathroom.

You were starting to think it probably wasn't going to be any real scary scenes, but then Candyman started to call the college lady's name, and it actually made you fight a shiver. You didn't know why, but creepy sounds were one of the few things from a film that could actually strike fear in your heart. Thankfully it didn't last long. You weren't looking forward to being teased for jumping or shivering at a movie that wasn't really even that scary.

At least it would mean that Mantis would be unlikely to crawl into your bed scared tonigh-

Candyman just shoved his hook through the college lady's medicine cabinet.

Half of everyone jumped, including you. Among those startled was Kraglin, and he shot you a glance that you purposely didn't return, not wanting to answer to any cocky smiles or teases accusing you of being scared.

A shot came on the screen centering on the baby Candyman took and you tensed, worried he was going to kill it, but you were relieved to see that he only let it suckle on his finger.

Kraglin felt you tense and then relax beside him, and he frowned, remembering the other night. He considered asking if you were alright, but then thought better of it and held his tongue, instead watching on as a scene played where the lady was now stuck in a mental hospital, having been believed to have killed her best friend and said baby from the previous scene.

Yondu didn't think he liked this movie, but he continued to watch in silence. He didn't want to see kids being hurt, and he had also tensed at the previous scene. Like you, he was sure that the bad guy was about to kill the baby. However, as he was sitting in his usual spot in the armchair, his tension went unnoticed.

Mantis let out a short scream when the lady summoned Candyman and he killed the psychiatrist. You sighed, realizing this wasn't looking good for her staying in her own bed tonight. Little did Peter know, you hadn't been kidding. If she tries to crawl in with you, you're sending her right to him, seeing as it would be his fault.

The lady was now exploring Candyman's lair, and you started to get a little tense at the creepy sounds of his breathing, and you mentally cursed whoever mixed the sound for this movie.

You got even more tense and fidgety when he opened his robe to reveal a ribcage full of bees. You only hoped no one noticed to tease you for it. Body horror was another thing that never failed to make you shudder.

Eventually the movie started to come to a close, a scene played where the lady's jerk ex-fiancé was having flashbacks to how good he had it with her now that she was dead, and you thought it was just going to end on a sad note.

That is, until he said her name, Helen, five times in the mirror (just like Candyman) and she came back and killed him with the Candyman's hook. Her sudden appearance made you startle slightly, and you heard more squeals from Mantis. You sighed again. Yep, she was definitely not going to sleep tonight.

The movie was finally over and Peter got up to turn on the lights. He turned to see you giving him a glare and he smiled. "What? Was it too scary for you?" he jeered.

You just pointed down to Groot. He had his head buried in Rocket's chest and was softly whimpering. "I told you that movie wasn't for kids."

Rocket scoffed at you and told you he would be fine, then turned it on you, saying how he felt you jump at least three times from where he was sitting.

You rolled your eyes and ignored him, turning to Peter and this time gesturing to Mantis, who still looked a bit shaken. "I meant what I said. She tries to crawl in bed with me, I'm sending her to you," you say, leaving to go to go get ready for bed, both because it was now late, and to avoid any inevitable further teasing from Rocket.

The others seemed to have much the same idea about bedtime, and a few of them followed you up the stairs.

You let Mantis shower first, hopeful that if you went after her that she might hopefully be asleep by the time you got out. However, when you finished your own shower, Peter had thought it'd be funny to jump-scare you as you exited the bathroom, grabbing your shoulders and shouting, "CANDYMAN'S GOTCHA!" which resulted in you jumping a mile with a noise you'd deny was a shriek before you turned to punch him in the arm scolding, "Damn you!"

He, along with Rocket, only responded by laughing their asses off at you. You thought you could also hear Drax's own booming laughter down the hall from his room, and you caught a glimpse of Yondu and Kraglin sharing amused glances and snickering from their shared room.

Your face getting warm at the fact that he had actually managed to get you pretty good, you then just storm off to your room, ignoring Rocket's teases that he bet that you'd be the one crawling into Mantis's bed tonight.

You shut the bedroom door behind you to see Mantis awake and clutching her bear for dear life. Whether she was just already awake due to nerves or you had woken her with your startled cry, you didn't know, but you flicked on your desk lamp for her, turned out your overhead light and crawled into bed without a word.

Sometime later, long enough for you to have drifted off into a decently sound enough sleep to be dreaming, you were startled awake by someone crawling into your bed.

Guess who. That's right. Mantis.

You groaned and turned to see she had already crawled halfway into your bed before you stopped her by rousing. "Mantis," you groaned, pointing towards the door, "go climb into Peter's bed. He's the one that chose the movie."

Mantis tucked her chin sheepishly and admitted she had already tried that, but his and Gamora's door had been locked.

You stared at the ceiling and sighed. Clever bastard.

You made a mental note to squirt lemon juice in his coffee in the morning before letting out another groan. "Ugh, fine. But just this once," you allowed, ignoring the fact that this would actually technically be the second time. You were also not actually quite as salty as you let on. If anything, you should maybe thank her for waking you from a bad dream involving the Candyman's ribcage full of bees, but you weren't going to tell her that.

She smiled gratefully and thanked you as she snuggled in.

You sighed quietly and Mantis fell asleep quickly. At least she didn't snore.

You spent the next bit before you fell asleep yourself contemplating different ways that you might be able to annoy Peter for sufficient payback.

#gotg #gotg fanfiction #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #yondu lives #scary movies #candyman #yondu udonta #kraglin obfonteri #rocket racoon and groot #mantis #peter quill #starlord

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guardianofthepeanutwrites · 3 years ago

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Skirts and Dresses Part 2

Part 2 is here. I hope you will like it! Part 1, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5 To my Powerpuff Girls ! I love you all <3 Many Thanks to Gypsywoman13 for beta-readig!

@mayucerise @starkeraddictbaby

Iron Dad Tony

Since the Widow had learned his secret and been so understanding, Peter became a bit less careful. While he used to only wear his old skirt when he was alone in the compound, now he would wear his new clothes when only one or two people were present or if Natasha decided they needed special training nights, which were girls nights where they would train and then watch action movies while making fun of the bad scripts and stunts. They would also paint each other's nails and do each other's hair. It was awesome.

As promised, Natasha burned his old skirt to ashes, but with his consent. Three days later, she gifted Peter a frame with a small piece of the skirt inside and it made Peter’s heart swell with love.

He could now say that his old skirt had been awful; it had too many colors and some nasty stains, but it still had been his first, so he had put the small memorabilia on his shelf.

Today, Peter, Mr. Stark, and Dr. Banner were the only ones present at the compound, so Peter put on a nice skirt that was full of colors, and that kind of looked like silk. It was one of Peter’s new favorites because it would swirl and flare when he walked.

After dancing around for a bit, and watching the effect in the mirror of his bedroom at the compound, Peter decided it was time to work on his assignment for next week.

Peter was fully engrossed in his work when his phone buzzed loudly.

>> Kid, I know you’re busy with your assignment, but I have an emergency here. Could you come by? - TS

Without even thinking about it, Peter rapidly answered

<< Sure Mr. Stark. Omw

With that sent Peter left his bedroom, not remembering in his rush that he was still wearing his new skirt.

When Peter entered the workshop of Mr. Stark, the billionaire briefly took his eyes away from the armor he was working on.

“Kid, you may want to change before coming closer. Motor oil is a bitch to take out of silk.” The comment was said offhandedly, as if Mr. Stark wasn’t talking to his mentee wearing a fucking skirt.

Peter felt his cheeks redden, realizing he had left his room in such a hurry that he hadn’t thought to change. He was startled when Mr. Stark started to talk again.

“Pete, it’s kind of an emergency here. Can you change and move on, please?” The urgency in his mentor’s voice got Peter to move, but not to change. “Pete, you’re going to stain the skirt, come on.” But Peter didn’t listen.

“What do you need me for, Mr. Stark?”

The older man sighed but started to explain.

For three hours the two men worked seamlessly like they always do. When the part of the armor they were working on was done, Mr. Stark silently led Peter to the sofa in the lab. He made Peter spin once, to look over the skirt before he let Peter sit on the couch next to him.

“So, Petey Pie. When did you start to wear skirts, and why did you never tell me?” Mr. Stark sounded calm and not disgusted; Peter did not really know what to think about it. “And this isn’t silk. What for the love of Tesla is that thing?”

Peter sighed. Were they all going to criticize the type of skirts he was wearing and not the fact he was wearing them?

“I-I started to wear one, uh, 4 years ago?” Peter felt his cheeks redden again and bowed his head to look at his hands, avoiding Mr. Stark’s gaze. “I found it--well... it was truly horrid, Natasha burned i-” Before he could finish his sentence, Mr. Stark cut him off with a frown.

“Wait, hold on, Underoos. Natasha knew before me?” The billionaire puts a hand on his chest; always one for dramatics. “Why? Wait, no, she’s a superspy. Did she guess?”

“She walked in on me,” Peter admitted. He felt rough fingers against his chin to lift his head up and force his eyes to meet his mentor.

“You know, when I was your age - a little younger maybe - I had a... well, Dad and--Dad called it a phase.” Peter knew his mentor had meant Dad and Obadiah Stane. It made Peter want to punch the guy. “For an entire month, I wore nothing but very short skirts.” Peter’s breath hitched at the confession, making Mr. Stark smirk. “To be honest, I only wore them to make my dad angry, but I still liked it, and those skirts made my ass look like sin. Well, everything makes my ass look like sin, but the skirts...they were really nice.”

“But, then, why did you stop? And why does no one know about that?” Peter asked with a small voice, still looking at his mentor even if the man had let go of his chin sometime before.

“I--They made me. If I am being honest, they paid a lot of people a lot of money to bury every piece of evidence from that month.” Mr. Stark frowned suddenly. “FRI, baby girl?”

“Yes, boss?” The AI answered.

“Do we still have pictures of that time?” There was a short silence before the AI starts to talk again.

“Yes boss, we do,” the mechanical voice sounded, amused.

“We should leak those one day.” Peter choked on nothing, making the older man wink at him. “Oh, and before I forget, FRI, call Thomas and tell him to bring skirts and dresses for my protegé.” FRIDAY didn’t answer, but Peter supposed she already was calling whoever Thomas was.

Mr. Stark stood, making a gesture at Peter to stay put, and went to a little room where he kept a small desk to do things that didn’t warrant going to his main office. He came back with a kraft envelope and sat back while he simply gave the envelope to Peter.

“I was supposed to give this to you on your Birthday, but I think there will be no better occasion than this one.” Peter watched the envelope dumbly, asking himself what was inside. “Open it up, kid.”

However, before Peter could move, FRIDAY started to talk again.

“Sir, Mr. Watson refuses to ‘clothe a man with a dress’.”

Tony lifted an eyebrow. “Fire him.” Peter opened his mouth to argue that there was no need to fire someone over him, but Mr. Stark continued. “Wait, was he insulting?”

“Yes, sir.” If she hadn’t been only code, Peter would have said FRIDAY was angry, but Peter was probably projecting.

“Ok, sue him and then fire him or the other way around. Let Legal take care of that. Shit, Pepper is going to kill me,” Mr. Stark muttered, standing up to start to pace.

“Mrs. Potts has not been using Mr. Watson’s services for some years, boss. Not after they had an argument about the place of women.” Peter saw his mentor getting angry at hearing that. “She has another tailor. His name is Richard Bernard and he comes highly recommended by Mrs. Potts. Should I call him?”

Mr. Stark huffed. “Yes, you do that. And FRIDAY? Next time someone treats my wife badly, tell me. While she can take care of herself, I refuse to continue to employ assholes. Tell her that.” Peter smiled softly at the ardor in his mentor’s demeanor. Mr. Stark breathed deeply and turned to Peter. “Now, kid, open the thing.” Mr. Stark made a wide gesture to the kraft envelope still on Peter’s lap.

Peter carefully pulled the tab and opened the envelope, taking the papers before looking up at Mr. Stark to make sure he could read them. Mr.Stark nodded, encouragingly, so Peter started to read and was startled at the content on the first paper. Peter frantically began to go through all of the papers, but they all said the same thing: Adoption.

When Peter looked up from the papers on his knees, it was to see Mr. Stark kneeling in front of him, watching Peter with a smile, and taking one of Peter’s hands inside his.

“We have known each other for years, and I would never hope for a better son than you, and for someone better to inherit Stark Industries when my time comes, Peter Parker.” Peter wanted to interrupt; wanted to tell the man that while Peter saw him as a dad too...that Peter would love nothing more on this earth than to be his son, but he was not worth it. He was only Peter, after all.

But Tony Stark knew him too well and just continued to talk, gently squeezing Peter’s hand. “You are smart, kind, and brave. I once told you that I wanted you to be better, and the truth is, you always were better. No, Peter, I may have changed the last decade or so, but at your age, I was nowhere as good as you. I would never have been a hero if I had received your powers. I am so proud of the man you have become, and I want to officially call you a son.”

“But--I know nothing about business,” Peter said lamely. It made Tony smile.

“Well, it’s not knowledge I was born with, you know. There are some classes you can take, and Pepper and I are ready to teach you everything we know. We would have done this sooner, but we wanted to give you until your 21st Birthday to be a normal kid.” Tony gently stroked Peter’s hand. “And before you ask, no, I do not care that you wear skirts or that you are bisexual. Yes, I know about that, I’ve seen how you watch the Soldier.” Peter wanted to deny it, but he really couldn’t because he currently had a very big and hopeless crush on one James Buchanan Barnes. “There is nothing--except going to work for Hammer Tech, and maybe SHIELD--that will change the way I see you. You are my kid, Peter Parker. Will you agree to be my son?”

And what could Peter say? He loved the man like a father and looked up to him. He even loved the horrible dad jokes Mr. Stark started to tell every now and then.

“It-it would be my honor, d-dad.” And Peter couldn’t take it anymore as he jumped into his mentor’s...no, his father’s arms.

And if both of them cried while hugging the other for a long time, it was no one’s business.

Richard Bernard made Peter the most awesome clothes, but Peter had to admit that while he loved them, (silk was such a pleasure on his sensitive skin) the ones he bought with Natasha were still his favorites.

Natasha looked at him like he was a moron, but did not comment. Peter was emotional, so sue him.

Pepper gifted Peter with some make-up, and with Natasha’s help, they taught him how to use it.

Now that Peter had more freedom to put on his dresses, skirts, lace, and silk, he discovered that he did not crave it as much as before. He even started to have fun with his other clothes, especially since Tony gifted him a great collection of graphic tees with all the best science puns.

It’s not as if he didn’t want to be pretty anymore, Peter did, but it’s not a desperate need anymore. Some days he wanted to look cute, and others, he wanted jeans and t-shirts.

Peter was very lucky.

#mcu fanfiction #5+1 things #Still 6+1 #Winterspider endgame #winterspider #tony stark #peter parker #irondad and spiderson #skirts and dresses

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aggressive-positivity-network · 4 years ago

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Okay, so you said I could send an ask for headcanons about the childhoods of some specific merc(s)... I think I would really like to read your headcanons about Soldier’s and Engineer’s childhood :)

Thanks in advance and I hope your well.

Ooooh…I’ve been waiting for this! And thank you for being specific and not just saying “the rest of them.” Sometimes I get overwhelmed with nine specific mercs to write for. Your specifics are much appreciated.

****************

Soldier:

Soldier doesn’t talk very much about his childhood - whether it’s because something happened or he just doesn’t remember it, no one can tell. It’s nowhere in his file, either…he refused to do anything except tell fantastic tales of a fictional youth.

However, in a rare streak of almost lucidity, he spouted off the entirety of his younger years, much to the team’s surprise. Usually, if anyone asked directly, he changed the subject.

But now he described everything in vivid detail. And, with a bit of research from Miss Pauling, everything fell into place.

Apparently he had been born in a small military town in Georgia. His father was overseas, leaving he and his mother alone in their small yellow house.

In order to make ends meet, his mother worked at a nearby factory, mostly leaving Soldier to fend for himself and the house.

“Can you be a big, strong soldier like daddy for me?”

Soldier would always agree, finding his own food, his own entertainment, and his own friends. No matter what happened, he never bothered his mom. If anything, his job was to protect her.

That’s why, when his stomach started hurting and his arms and legs ached, he said nothing about it.

When he forgot the chores he was supposed to do and even the names of his friends, he didn’t bring it up.

When he felt tired all the time and some days could barely get out of bed, he just chalked it up to laziness like his mother did.

It turns out the factory they were next to was polluting the water next to the house with dangerous amounts of lead, which soon overcame Soldier’s immune system of steel.

He could barely remember anything anymore, and he became more and more distraught every day. Sometimes he would forget where he was and run outside, then get lost in the woods, only coming back once he remembered where he was supposed to be.

Soldier began to wear one of his father’s old helmets after his mom commented on his red eyes and the dark circles around them. He didn’t want to worry her. Besides, it helped bring back a few memories if he ever got lost again.

Finally, it got to the point where he didn’t even remember his mother, or his promise to her. He began to wander farther and farther away from home.

One day, he didn’t come back at all.

Out in the world with not a single memory to his name, Soldier wandered far and wide. He usually slept in barns and old, abandoned houses, cut off from most people.

Occasionally, he would find a family that wanted to “raise him as their own,” only to turn him away after finding him too difficult to care for.

He had frequent nightmares, ate little due to his unresolved stomach issues, and could barely walk ten feet without forgetting where he was going.

If he accidentally wandered into the same house twice, he would be chased out with either a broom or a gun - usually the latter.

He became “the demon child” in some counties, and “g*psy kid” in others, due to his long, unkempt hair, hidden eyes, and odd habits.

It even got to the point where Soldier couldn’t sleep on anyone’s property because he would be actively fought off like a wolf or a bear.

His only pleasure was an old movie theater that, as he recovered from his lead poisoning, remembered the location of and frequently snuck into.

The only thing that played were romance movies - which, like many children, Soldier hated - and war movies, which he watched over and over again with starving eyes.

Because of these movies, a single memory from his mother’s house came to him. A woman, tall and muscular from hard labor, giving him a shiny badge to hold, asking him to be a strong soldier like his father.

And thus began his life-long dream of becoming a military officer.

He trained according to what he knew from the films…which was mostly running, doing jumping jacks, and occasionally rolling around in the mud.

This only served to distance him further from his fellow human beings, but he didn’t care. Soldier had a mission, and he was going to do it well.

But the biggest change was his hair.

He had started cutting it off with sharpened rocks, but he was always saving up coins he found for a “proper army cut.”

Finally, he had quite the collection in a dirty mason jar, and marched into the barber shop in his town to ask for a haircut.

The manager was appalled, and at first refused, but Soldier stood his ground.

“Civilian, I’ll have you know that by denying a soldier with a haircut, you are denying America one of its best fighters! I can’t curdle the enemy’s blood looking like a hippie!”

After a short yelling match that, of course, Soldier won, the manager decided it would be in his best interest to comply.

He walked out of that shop with no hair on his head, but a huge grin on his face. Next stop, the ranks.

Soldier went from draft office to draft office, applying for and being denied entrance to the army for his obvious lack of mental stability.

This is when the personal retelling ended, since Soldier became very upset by the memory of his recruitment failures, but Miss Pauling concluded that he just bounced from state to state until Mann Co. found him, quote, “sitting in an alleyway, eating army draft paperwork while sobbing uncontrollably.”

Engineer:

Engineer also never really talks about his childhood, but both Medic and Spy (Spy knows everything about everyone on the team) know that’s for a good reason.

He grew up in a trailer community near an almost ghost town in Texas.

His father was an abusive car mechanic with a mean streak a mile wide and a shop full of failed inventions. His mother wasn’t any better - she was bitter and reclusive, only really coming out of her room to pick a fight with her husband.

However, what Engie lacked in family, he more than made up for in friends.

He had a rag-tag, Rugrats-esque team of pals from all walks of life: Rhapsody, the daughter of a struggling porn star; Tom, the son of two farmers wiped out by blight; Cici, an adopted girl that could barely walk into her trailer without a black eye and a string of slurs; Quinn, the nervous child of a single mother that serves as guidance to the other kids; And Fred, who didn’t seem to have any family, but had become a greaser big brother to all of them.

Together, they explored the desert near the trailer park, pooled their resources to feed and support each other, and used their individual strengths to get through each day.

Engineer, whom everyone affectionately called “Big Dell,” snuck parts from his dad’s workshop for his own creations.

By the time he was twelve, he could make a small, running engine for the soapbox cars his friends frequently raced.

No toy, piece of clothing, glasses, or tool was out of his line of expertise.

One day, though, upon finding that some of his parts were missing, Engineer’s dad gave him a terrible beating that broke a few of his fingers and left a huge gash near his eye.

Since then, he refused to fix, make, or even touch a tool.

He wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, but they could make a pretty good guess, since they knew where the scraps and parts had come from.

The whole group was furious with Engineer’s dad - their Big Dell was funny, smart, and was more loving than every family member they had combined. Even Quinn was red in the face.

They wanted to break into his dad’s workshop and destroy all of his inventions, just to teach him a lesson, but they knew Engineer would take the fall for it.

Instead, they rummaged through trash cans, searched their toy chests, and looked under their trailers to find things Engineer could use.

They waited until his birthday to unveil the massive pile of supplies they had stowed away.

Engineer immediately dropped to his knees and began to cry, and everyone else dogpiled him for a huge hug.

As the creme de la creme, they gave him a pair of welding goggles - the same welding goggles he wears to this day, having modified them so they still fit his growing body.

With his healed fingers and renewed spirit, he made each of them a gift: a toy car for Rhapsody, a skull ring for Fred, a full set of candle wax crayons for Cici, a chewable necklace for Quinn so they wouldn’t chew on their collar, and a mini-planter for Tom.

But Engineer was given the greatest gift - confidence in his own abilities and that he can be and was appreciated for more than his services.

This gave him the drive to build bigger and better things, which his friends happily assisted in creating.

Engie’s best memories are with that motley crew of scrawny, beaten-up kids.

But, as he became a teenager, the abuse grew worse by the day.

He was often kept in his dad’s garage to fix cars in sweltering heat and with nothing to show for his work except threats of what would happen if a customer complained.

His mother finally grew bitter enough to pick on him, wondering aloud and pointedly if she had made a mistake by having him, then immediately contradict herself by wailing in his arms about how she’s the most awful mother in the world, and how she would be gone soon, and then nobody would have to deal with her anymore.

Engie grew more and more distant from his friends as they either moved out, ran away, or, in Rhapsody’s case, died.

He thought of just shutting the garage door and turning on a car a couple times, but he would always return to his memories of the hidden cave of goodies his friends had collected or the many inventions they had helped him build.

It just wasn’t worth it.

On a night when his depression and self-doubt was especially bad, he decided to build a personal invention for the first time in years - a small, robotic chicken made out of bent gears and empty oil cans.

He worked on it for a few weeks, but made the mistake of leaving it on a work table once it was finished.

Engie came to work the next morning with his dad ready to chew him out. But, before any finger could be lifted against his son, he was interrupted by a sweet older couple that was having their tires replaced.

“Now, Ethan, ain’t that just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?”

“Hm?”

“That there chicken statue over there! It looks like it could very well get up and start peckin’ for worms, don’tcha think?”

Engie looked at the couple, then at his dad, then at his chicken. He slowly lifted it from the table and turned the key.

It started to slowly lean forward, then took a few steps on it’s long, spring-loaded legs. The neck went down, and the chicken’s rusty beak began to scrape at the pavement.

Now he had the husband’s attention.

“Didja build that yourself, son, or did your daddy help ya?”

Engineer looked at his dad for a split second before answering.

“My own sweat ‘n blood, sir. My daddy says I should stop wastin’ time on ugly thing-a-ma-jigs an’ put my hands to somethin’ worth doin’.”

The man smiled. “Well, this ‘ugly thing-a-ma-jig’ shows real skill. We could use somebody like you, once we train you up a bit.”

“Now hold on a damn - !” his father interjected, but was silenced with a cold stare.

“We’ll put ya through a state-of-the-art school, then put ya straight inta the work force. You can build whatever you like…and you’ll have a lot better materials than rusty tin. Whaddaya say, son?”

Engineer just nodded, and the man grabbed his hand and shook it.

“We’ll keep in touch.”

Engineer left that trailer park at age seventeen, leaving his fuming father and drunken mother behind.

He only stopped to visit Rhapsody’s grave before embarking on his new life.

There is still a stone plate with a message carved into it next to the headstone. If you brush off the leaves and dig out the moss, you can see Engie’s parting words:

“A friendship with you and the rest of the gang is the greatest thing I ever built. -Big Dell”

#tf2 #tf2 fandom #tf2 ask blog #tf2 headcanon #tf2 headcanons #tf2 engineer #engineer tf2 #tf2 solly #send asks #ask blog #headcanon requests #lovely anon #thanks anon #thanks for the ask

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years ago

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Title: would you be so kind Ship: obikin Second: Ten years ago, Obi-Wan Kenobi met Anakin Skywalker, a charming young mage from Naboo, but as fate willed, they could not be together. A decade and thousands dead later, Alderaan’s High Court Sorcerer meets a Forger and his excited apprentice. AN: I forgot to post this on tumblr apparently, but here’s the first chapter of my second long WIP I am working on!

Then

The ship was crammed, filled to the brim with people clinging to one another, staring either at the home they’d lost or the home they hoped to be sailing to. Hundreds of ships had left Dromund Kaas already, carrying refugees across the ocean to safer harbors. The tension was high and sharp enough to cut as they sailed away from the doomed country and only relaxed when the pressure of the country’s shields finally left their shoulders.

“An awful sight, isn’t it?”

Anakin startled, instinctually pulled his coat around himself. Were he in a better shape, he would have lashed out immediately, winds, bindings, blood—

But the power flowing through his veins was too constricted, caged like a wild beast. Instead, Anakin just turned to look at the person who’d addressed him. An old woman with snow-white markings and long lekku stared at the dying country just as he had moments before, grief and resignation painting a sorrowful picture. “I never thought I’d leave this place. Did you?”

Wordlessly, Anakin shook his head. No, he certainly hadn’t thought he’d ever leave this place again. He’d been ready to be buried under the ashes of marble altars, not see this new dawn.

“I was born here, married too. All my children were born within the boundaries of this country and perhaps that is the reason they all left,” the woman continued. “I am glad that they weren’t here. If I think about what could have happened to them were they anywhere near the capital… I apologize; I hope you don’t mind my rambling. You looked like you needed company. Are you traveling to Naboo?”

He opened his mouth to reply, to give an affirmation, but stopped. He hadn’t quite thought where he’d go, except as far away from this place as he could. Naboo was certainly an option; Padmé would be glad to see him, he was sure. She’d take him in without asking a single question and defend him against the storms that were sure to come.

But Padmé was his friend and Anakin couldn’t allow her to shoulder his burden.

“No,” Anakin heard himself saying. “I’m not traveling to Naboo.”

“They are quite defenseless right now, yes, you are right. The fact that it’s the first stop of this ship is tempting enough for most to disregard what troubles might find them there.” The woman nodded in understanding. “I’ll be going to Alderaan myself. My eldest lives there, and in a country as strong as that, a tragedy like this can’t strike.”

She turned to look at the remains of Dromund Kaas again. The coastline used to be covered by beautiful large trees; his Master used to tell him how vital they were for its defense.

Now there was nothing but ash and darkness. Even here on the outskirts, where it had taken the longest for the remains of the catastrophe to reach, nobody was safe from it. Dromund Kaas had been in a pitiful state after the last war, which had made it an easy place to hideaway in. Alderaan might be stronger, the blooming center of magical education, but Anakin doubted they’d be able to defend against an attack like this. Nothing could save them from an attack such as this.

But Alderaan’s distance to this cesspit of disease was enough to provide a different kind of security.

Thousands of refugees would search for safety there, and Queen Breha was as cunning as she was kind. No one would be turned away and Anakin could slip in just right with them.

“I’m going to Alderaan as well,” Anakin replied.

The woman looked him over, then she beamed as if she were a young child and not already among the older members of her species.

Her smile was the first Anakin had seen in weeks. “Looks like we’ll be traveling companions then! You must tell me your name, young friend. I’m Raya Tano.”

She held out her hand and Anakin awkwardly shook it with his own left.

“My name is—”

Now

“Anakin Skywalker! Your automaton is ruining my kitchen!”

Sighing, Anakin let the spell sink back into the metal and settle into it. So much for working on his commissions today. A quick glance around the workshop told him that it was not one of his automatons running wild. Artoo was currently charging up and Threepio was keeping himself busy cleaning up. All the other small automatons Anakin crafted when he was bored were either asleep and charging or hurrying around the workshop, washing up the floors and putting away the tools Anakin had been using.

Anakin tugged off his gloves and threw them to a tiny and eager little automaton before picking up his softer everyday gloves. The leather was still quite resistant and had more runes stitched into it than most people dared to weave into one cloth, but they were nowhere near as excellently crafted as his work gloves. The dragonhide gloves were worth a fortune and so they never left his workshop unless Anakin had to. Anakin watched the little automaton put the gloves in their usual compartment until he could hear the click reassuring that the lock was in place. At first, that had only been a measure against thieves as he hadn’t had much to his name, but by now, it was a habit.

And it discouraged Ahsoka from stealing them for her own projects.

Anakin walked out of his workshop and crossed the courtyard to the small cottage he called his home, finding a kitchen in disarray, Raya standing on a chair with a small red automaton attempting to clean the floors.

“Look what a mess it’s making!” Raya said accusingly. “Instead of polishing my floors, it’s dirtying them!”

“I can see that,” Anakin hummed. He waited until the small automaton had reached his feet, then he bent down and pressed his hand flat on its small back, stopping it. Ahsoka’s handiwork was getting better; this little guy had kept moving for a while despite her absence. Anakin had no idea what the formal apprenticeship for forgers entailed, when they ought to hit what milestone, but he was willing to bet that Ahsoka was years ahead of her peers. Her spells were strong, her rune work fantastic, and very few actual weaknesses were left to explore in her automatons.

But Anakin was still a Master and Ahsoka only an Apprentice. Her work was not yet good enough to keep out foreign interference. Without much thought, he deactivated the automaton completely.

“This was your granddaughter’s handiwork,” Anakin commented. “She’s improving in leaps and bounds.”

Raya huffed and stepped from her chair. “I’m glad to hear that, but weren’t you meant to teach her control?”

“I am,” Anakin said, the argument an old and fond one. They returned to it frequently, mostly to annoy the young Apprentice. “And were she still as much of a mess as three years ago, she hardly would be able to craft such a fine automaton. Can’t do anything about her manners.”

Especially since she’d become a teenager. Anakin didn’t remember being as much of a pain as Ahsoka could be.

“And here I was thinking Masters were supposed to teach their Apprentices a medium of decorum.”

Anakin snorted. “Yeah, well, that’s what she has you for, doesn’t she?”

Raya’s expression softened. “That she does.”

Anakin sometimes wondered how Raya managed to stay so kind and calm when the world had taken so much from her. Her husband, country, her children— and yet she still stood straight, caring for the fellow traveler she’d never allowed to leave and the granddaughter that had been dumped on her with just a warning for Ahsoka’s generally explosive tendencies.

“Where is Ahsoka anyway?” Anakin asked, looking around the kitchen as if she would jump out in the open any moment. “I sent her on an errand earlier this morning, but she hasn’t returned yet.”

Unfortunately, Raya couldn’t tell him either. “I have no idea where that girl is running around—”

“Anakin!”

Speak of the dark and it shall appear. The door was thrown open and Ahsoka rushed inside, tracking even more dirt all over the floor, causing Raya to throw up her arms in defeat in a way Anakin knew meant Ahsoka would be left with all her favorite chores for the next week.

“Welcome back, Ahsoka,” Anakin said. “You’re late.”

“Yes, yes,” Ahsoka replied and rolled her eyes, obviously disinterested in what he had to say. “I got all you asked for and ordered the new metals, but look at this!”

Ahsoka raised her hand, revealing a ripped-off poster. It was tasteful in design, fine cursive writing on light blues, gold ornaments in the corners and, of course, the royal crest right in the middle of it.

Her Majesty the Queen of the Kingdom of Alderaan, Breha Organa, invites all Alderaani Practitioners of the Mythic Arts to attend the festivities in the capital of Aldera—

“Absolutely not,” Anakin said before he could even read the rest of the text. “We’re not going to Aldera to some festival.”

“Why not?” Ahsoka shot back. “It’s no summit, but it would at least be something.”

Her bitterness did not go unnoticed. Ahsoka had begged for months to attend this year’s summit. Every five, all magic practitioners gathered on Tython to exchange notes on their craft and pretend they were not also discussing the politics of their respective countries, forging alliances and the like. Anakin hadn’t been to the last summit, it having been just after Dromund Kaas, and the one before were tainted by the memories that followed, no matter how sweet the time had been. Ahsoka, of course, had begged to attend this year’s one, but it would only be foolish and reckless. He couldn’t just walk into the biggest gathering of mages in the whole continent and expect to get out of it without anyone realizing who he was, asking questions, concluding what he’d done.

Anakin had too much to hide, too much to lose, and he wasn’t going to risk his little Apprentice for it.

Not that Ahsoka knew any of that and wasn’t in the least satisfied with Anakin’s reply and immediately made her displeasure known.

“What would you even want to see there?” Anakin asked, trying to downplay how entertaining such an event was. “It’ll just be all the posh court sorcerers showing off with their fancy focusing crystals. It’s utterly boring and uncreative.”

“Like you wouldn’t use a focusing crystal if you had one,” Ahsoka muttered, arms crossed. “It’s just— there’s nobody else around here who can do magic. And all you ever do is work on machines.”

“Which requires a lot of concentration as it’s not just the manipulation of one aspect, but—”

“—but many, yes, yes, I know the speech,” Ahsoka said and dutifully listed all elements that went into their craft. There was a reason why not many forgers existed. Most mages lacked the talent, patience, and education to learn this craft, or were just plain afraid that they’d permanently damage their ability to use magic at all.

And with the speed technology was evolving and magic weaponized to terrifying new heights, not too many people still had use for forgers. Where two-hundred-years ago, you wouldn’t have gone out to hunt a dragon with a simple sword, but only with one crafted by a Master forger, nowadays you didn’t necessarily need one. Battle magic was on the rise again, especially with more and more countries growing uneasy, peace treaties falling apart. Combined with the threats from the northern continents, it was no wonder people cared less and less about expensive forgers when they could mass-produce and enchant simpler items.

“I just hoped you’d allow at least this,” Ahsoka finished. Her shoulders dropped. “Should have known better. I’ll go finish my readings.”

Ahsoka turned around, her shoulders still hanging, her head low.

Damn it.

Anakin knew that she was doing it on purpose. His Apprentice was cunning and had learned how to play into his every weakness. Slowly she marched into the direction of the door, dragging her feet behind her for effect and dramatics.

Raya raised a brow at him. She usually stayed out of Ahsoka’s tutelage, knowing next to nothing about magic herself, but even with his past being little more than a mystery to her, she could read him better than anyone else.

“Urgh, fine,” Anakin heard himself say. “Fine, we can go to the festival.”

Ahsoka turned around quicker than light and jumped up. “Yes!”

“But that means you’re not going to bring up the summit again!”

“Yes! Of course!” A moment later, Anakin had an armful of an apprentice. “Thank you so much, Master, you’re the best!”

Once she let go of him, she went to hug Raya and hug even her dirty automaton to her chest, still radiating happiness. “I need to go pack my bags immediately!”

“The festival is not for another week—”

Ahsoka obviously didn’t care. So caught up in her joy, she rushed upstairs, heading to her room to start packing. It shouldn’t surprise Anakin that she was so motivated. Ahsoka was a person who thrived on interaction, being surrounded by other people. While the people of their village were friendly, none of them were mages or even just sensitive to magic. It was one of the reasons Anakin had decided to stay without too much fight. But growing up so far removed from other mages had made Ahsoka twice as curious to meet others.

The thought made his stomach churn. He’d have to give Ahsoka formal lessons about their trade now, just if somebody asked questions that were too pointed. She’d also need a bit of the know-how on how you usually interacted with other mages and which pretentious bastards to call sorcerers before they threw a hissy fit. All these capital folks were much too sensitive about terminology after all. Anakin had never bothered to tell her the differences before, but Ahsoka would kill him if she accidentally embarrassed herself because he hadn’t seen it fit to instruct her properly. Forget teaching Ahsoka how to improve her automaton, the next week would be full of etiquette lessons. Skies, there’d be people trying to steal their spellwork too. Had he even mentioned that kind of theft before? Anakin honestly couldn’t recall.

“Already regretting it?” Raya asked, her voice just a touch amused.

“Just a bit,” Anakin replied.

“It’ll be good for her,” Raya said, convinced and confident enough for the both of them. “And good for you as well. I’ve known you for years now and you’ve never even brought a friend over. I’m not going to be young forever, you know. I do expect to be introduced to your future spouse at some point.”

“And this is my cue to go packing as well,” Anakin announced and followed Ahsoka up the stairs with Raya’s laughter following him.

He had no intention of being with anyone, ever, unless he could find glamours that held up even when majorly distracted. On his way up the stairs, Anakin caught a look of himself in the window, saw black vines curling around his neck, inviting someone to take a closer look.

It was better this way.

#obikin #star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #fanfic

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trellwords · 3 years ago

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fic scrap, douxie & merlin, 2200 words; cw: background homophobia

How utterly stupid he’d been, thinks Douxie as he meets Merlin’s eyes over Guerdred’s shoulder, to assume that Merlin wouldn’t be back before late.

In which Douxie gets caught with a boy.

———

Two years into his stay at Camelot, Douxie meets a boy.

The boy is one of Lancelot’s squires—Guerdred, tall, dark, and handsome—and Douxie is stupid, stupid when Guerdred talks to him, stupid when Guerdred looks at him, stupid in the songs he starts writing just for Guerdred to hear. (He doesn’t tell that to Guerdred, of course.) Archie notices and asks, “What’s the matter with you?” but Douxie just shakes his head and says he doesn’t know, because he doesn’t; he’s never felt like this before. Never gotten tongue-tied at someone’s smile, never spent hours distracted by the thought of the next time they’ll meet, never had dreams about someone that make him blush just to remember, for no reason he can readily name.

He’d like to blame it on magic, but he’s felt magic, and magic isn’t like this. (Music is, sometimes; when he’s alone with it in his head, when there’s nothing between him and the strings—those times feel a great deal like this. Like he’s soaring, weightless and glowing, racing ahead of himself.)

He finds it in himself to be even more stupid when he and Guerdred spend an evening up on the battlement trading a bottle of wine, meandering through hours of conversation. Guerdred watches the sun sink against the water, but all Douxie remembers from that evening is Guerdred: Guerdred bathed all over in gold, Guerdred’s lips around the mouth of the bottle, Guerdred’s hand mere inches away from his own. If someone were to ask him what time of day it’d been Douxie would have to deduce the answer from circumstance, because surely he didn’t look away from the other boy once.

When he gets back to his room that night he puts Archie firmly out in the hall, and jerks himself off with shaking hands, his back against the door. He tries not to think about what he’s doing, but all that does is make him think about Guerdred: Guerdred’s lips, Guerdred’s hands, Guerdred doing this to him instead of himself . . . Douxie comes hard enough that it leaves him weak in the knees, and afterward feels dirty and disgusted and really unspeakably good.

It’s a little hard to face Guerdred again after that.

Even if Douxie tells himself it must’ve been the wine, or something in the air, or any number of other excuses he invents for himself, he can’t quite escape having had that particular fantasy. He knows now why Guerdred makes him feel giddy and flustered and high, and it’s surely because there’s something wrong with him, because he shouldn’t feel this way about a boy.

But then, there’s always been something wrong with him. Douxie has magic in his veins and music in his head, and maybe wanting a boy in the way he’s supposed to want girls is just part of whatever went wrong in him at the start. He thinks he could live with that; it’s much the same with his magic, after all. Magic is difficult, and he can’t even reach it without his bracelet, and still every time he casts a spell all the suffering is worth it, because there’s nothing in the world that feels the same. If he only feels this way about boys he’ll take it, and it’s only what Guerdred might think that makes him worried. Guerdred already has reason enough to deride him (not that he does); Guerdred is training to be a knight, and Douxie is trying to become a wizard, and what would Guerdred think if he found out about this?

He tries to watch what he says and does around Guerdred, after that, to not be so terribly obvious now that he knows what he knows. He’s not very good at it. Try as he might Guerdred still brings out the fool in him, makes him laugh and blush and want to write more songs, determined to translate Guerdred into sound. The chiming ditty that came to him the other night, that’s Guerdred’s smile; the slower plucked melody, that’s the way Douxie feels when Guerdred declines joining the rest of the squires for a night on the town in favor of drinking alone with him, as if Douxie’s company is worth all of theirs. How can Douxie hide how he feels, when it keeps escaping out through his lute?

And then—four months into their knowing each other—Guerdred drags Douxie behind the stables, and kisses him.

Douxie is so startled he actually drops his lute, and has to break away from the kiss (the kiss, Guerdred’s kiss, kissing him!) to make sure the instrument isn’t damaged. “Sorry,” he gasps, “sorry, I really do want to, I just need to make sure it’s all right—” and Guerdred laughs and promises to make him forget the lute, nearly causing Douxie to drop it again.

The instrument is fine, and Douxie has his first time right there behind the stables, lute set aside and arms wound around Guerdred’s neck. He’s so nervous and excited he’s trembling, and when Guerdred jerks them off together Douxie buries his face against Guerdred’s shoulder and comes embarrassingly fast, unable to hide how Guerdred affects him.

It’s amazing, and after that he’s so caught up in the rush—in the discovery that Guerdred feels about Douxie the way Douxie feels about him; that he wants Douxie in the same way, even though he’s a boy—that Douxie doesn’t do much thinking at all. Every time he has a free evening he sneaks down to the squires’ barracks or the stables or wherever Guerdred might be that day, and Guerdred returns the favor, wandering past Merlin’s workshop and sneaking inside if a cursory glance confirms that Merlin is out. Now that the line has been crossed they can’t keep their hands off each other, and Douxie spends his days in a rosy haze, drifting dreamily between stolen kisses.

Archie knows, of course. That much is inevitable, even given that Douxie sends him away when he goes to see Guerdred, and Archie clears out if Guerdred arrives himself. But Archie is Douxie’s familiar, not to mention a cat; whatever else might happen, Douxie knows that he can trust Archie with his life, with any and all of his secrets. Archie won’t give him away, won’t think less of him for what Douxie and Guerdred are doing—even if he does make sardonic comments about how much more often Douxie drops things when Guerdred is around.

Merlin, though—

Maybe being around Guerdred makes Douxie stupid, but he still knows better than to let Merlin find out about them. He can’t let any other human in Camelot know, and however much he may trust Merlin in everything else the thought of what the wizard might do if he finds out about this scares Douxie witless. Probably Merlin wouldn’t send him to the executioner—Douxie would like to believe that much—but he’d surely throw him back out in the street, refuse to teach him a minute longer.

Douxie doesn’t want to lose his shot at becoming a wizard for anything, not even Guerdred.

So he does try to be careful; sends Guerdred away if he ever comes by when Merlin is near, and never lingers with him at the workshop, stealing away elsewhere for their intimate sojourns. It works, for a while.

But, well.

Guerdred does make him stupid.

Thus it comes to pass that when Guerdred comes around one summer night when Merlin is out conferring with Arthur Douxie decides to take the risk, and lets Guerdred inside the workshop. Merlin and Arthur will likely be busy for hours yet, and Merlin will doubtless go back to his quarters after; the chances that he’ll come back here tonight are slim. Douxie has work yet to do—putting away newly-arrived jars of herbs in the stores—and so for a while Guerdred merely sits on a nearby crate and talks to him, watching Douxie work. (Watching Douxie, and Douxie likes that, too: likes the way Guerdred looks at him, the places where Guerdred’s eyes linger, the way it makes him feel altogether different from the awkward lanky mess he knows himself to be.)

He finishes his task quickly, and Guerdred stops hanging back. He gets into Douxie’s space, and Douxie slings his arms across Guerdred’s shoulders and laughs as Guerdred walks him back against the wall, tilting his head to let Guerdred kiss at his neck.

And if Douxie were thinking at all—if he were capable of thinking, with Guerdred’s hands on him—he would have stopped them there, and escaped with Guerdred to somewhere truly secluded. But in the gathering dusk the storeroom feels perfectly safe and out-of-the-way, miles distant from the bustling courtyards, the well-lit workshop; no one comes down here besides Douxie and Morgana and Merlin, and Merlin’s busy with Arthur and Morgana is out of Camelot altogether, away on a trip to Rheged. Tonight, this place is surely for Douxie and Guerdred alone.

He’s cured of that illusion by the creak of the storeroom door.

Its terrible sound cuts through the warm haze of Guerdred’s kisses, making Douxie freeze. Guerdred’s right hand is under his shirt, his left working open the third button at Douxie’s collar, and there is—Douxie realizes in the awful, crystal-clear moment before the door swings open—no way to pretend they’ve been doing anything else.

How utterly stupid he’d been, thinks Douxie as he meets Merlin’s eyes over Guerdred’s shoulder, to assume that Merlin wouldn’t be back before late.

The weight of the door makes it bang against the wall. Guerdred jolts back from Douxie like he’s been burned, eyes going round; Douxie stays frozen in place, unable to move or think or breathe. His back is pressed against the stone wall behind him, his half-undone shirt hanging askew, and Merlin is just as frozen as he is, staring at them from where he’s towering in the doorway.

Douxie is done for. He knows it, and somewhere far away the part of him that’s still capable of cogent thought is screaming hysterically that he’s thrown away everything, just for this, all because he can’t control himself around Guerdred.

Guerdred, the only one among them who seems to have retained the capacity for speech, stammers, “I—we—we weren’t—” He puts his hands up, then sharply drops them, as though where he puts his hands now might change the fact that he’d had them all over Douxie.

Merlin looks at Guerdred, and says, “Get out.”

Guerdred doesn’t have to be told twice. He throws a glance back towards Douxie, which Douxie avoids, and bolts for the door. Merlin steps aside to let him through; Guerdred sidles past in a rush, plainly trying to keep the maximum possible distance between himself and the master wizard. Douxie and Merlin are left alone in the room, Douxie motionless against the wall, Merlin still at the entrance.

Out in the workshop the outer door slams, and that’s when Merlin turns on him. “You idiot boy,” he hisses, and the furor in his voice makes Douxie shrink back against the wall. “What if it had been anyone other than me?”

Which—isn’t the tack that Douxie’s expecting. “What?” he croaks, in a very small voice.

Merlin barrels on. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Had I suspected you were so eager to have your head separated from your shoulders, I would have let Galahad do it back then, and saved us both the trouble!” His staff bangs against the floor, furious emphasis. “Damn it, boy, there are some kinds of stupid you don’t have to be!”

“I—” Douxie struggles to scrounge up anything more complex than monosyllables, barely able to process what Merlin is saying. He’s not at all sure that he’s heard correctly. “Sir, I don’t . . .”

“I don’t give a whit as to what, or whom, you do in your spare time,” says Merlin bluntly, and Douxie is overcome by a wave of embarrassment so hot that for a moment it drowns out even the cold tide of his fear, a flush racing up his neck into his face. “But I expect you to have the good sense not to get caught, never mind getting caught here! Have you any idea of the danger you’re putting all of us in? Of the repercussions on wizardry, if you’re found to be doing what you’ve been doing while you are my apprentice, and in this very tower?”

The words are like being doused with ice water. Fear regains the upper hand, and Douxie gets out, “No—no, sir,” stricken. “I’m sorry, Master, I wasn’t—I didn’t—” He can’t seem to catch his breath, squeezed into a vise between terror and humiliation.

“Didn’t think? Yes, I can tell that much.” Merlin is savagely acerbic. His gaze flicks down to Douxie’s collar, and Douxie is suddenly, excruciatingly aware of the bruises that Guerdred has left there, no doubt already turning dark. (He wishes his hands would stop shaking, so that he could do up the buttons. He wishes he could melt through the floor.) “Next time you decide to risk everything for a halfwit with a sword, perhaps you’ll do more of that.”

[...]

#hisirdoux casperan #trollhunters #toa merlin #fic scrap #Do Not Arsk Us About: views on h*mosexuality in sub-roman britain or the historicity of s*xual identity prior to the 19th century

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sylvain-writes · 4 years ago

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Doors Will Open (Donatello x Reader)

Rated: G

Gender Neutral Reader, pre-relationship, movie night, tenderness, cuddling, supportive brothers

You surprise Donnie with lembas bread for your Lord of the Rings movie night.

for @blancoluna

Donatello is holed up in his laboratory of mischief and oddities when you arrive at the lair bearing treats. But Mikey is there to greet you, jumping out of the Pit to graciously unload the deep tupperware of cookies from your hands.

His eyes twinkle as he leans in to stage whisper, “You’re my favorite, know that?”

April walks up behind him with a gasp of indignation. “I’m gone five minutes!”

“But, but...” He lifts the box in his defense, “Cookies!”

“Ooh.” April’s eyes go wide and warmth floods your cheeks at their enthusiasm. She rubs her hands together with delight. “Can I grab one for the road?” You nod, of course, encouraging her to take as many as she likes. “You’re my favorite too,” she says with a giddy bounce.

Your laughter draws Raphael and Leonardo from the tunnels, and your excitement for the evening mounts. Rising to your toes hopefully, you try to capture a glimpse of Donatello behind them. The tunnel, however, is otherwise empty. Your heart sinks just a little.

Everyone gathers in the kitchen, welcoming you and trying to convince April to stay, but with each passing minute, the absence of your best friend grows harder to ignore.

“Wheel of Time is in my bag,” you mention to Leo half-heartedly. It’s a book series he’s been begging to borrow for ages. You’re proud of yourself for remembering to bring it, and you don’t want to get distracted and forget.

“Thanks!” Leo unlatches your messenger bag immediately, diving into a confession that only serves to prove what a nerd he is. Apparently, he sped through the Lord of the Rings this week in his excitement for the weekend movie marathon. You nod along with an amused smile. You're usually overjoyed to have the fellow bookworm to talk to, but your attention keeps drifting to the empty tunnels.

A lull in his rambling gives you an opportunity to ask, “Is Donnie coming?” You have trouble meeting Leo's eyes, but you try your best to keep the question sounding casual and light. You don’t want Leo, Raph, Mikey, or April to feel like you don’t value their company, but you brought down supplies for Movie Night under the impression Donatello would be joining in; you don’t want to start without him.

“Oh, I’ll get that knucklehead,” Leo says, stacking the books to carry. “He probably just lost track of time.”

Turning from Mikey's final, futile plea for April to stay, Leo heads toward his room to drop off the books, then to the workshop to gather their missing brother.

The muted sounds of tools and machinery come through the heavy door in clanks and whirrs. But Leo knows Donnie won't mind the intrusion. He raps a knuckle against the small frosted window and gives his brother a shout.

Donatello raises his voice over the buzz of a circular saw to ask, “Emergency?” But the sound of the blade cutting through metal continues without pause.

“No.” Leo won’t lie. He won’t test Donnie’s nerves with trickery, not even when the reveal is something his brother has been looking forward to all week.

“Password?” Donnie counters next.

Leo screws up his face, searching his memories for the right answer. “I don’t know, dude. There’s cookies? And, like, ten hours of movies, so-”

The saw goes silent before the 'shop door opens with a snap. Leo takes a step back to give his brother room.

Donnie’s face pops through the gap, his eyes looking unnaturally large through the magnifying lenses perched atop his beak. “What day is it?”

“Uh, Friday.”

“Y/N is here?”

Leo's exasperated answer hisses through the tunnel. "Yes."

Donatello lets the door swing wide as he pulls off his goggles and hangs them on their hook. “Why didn’t you start with that?” he asks as he tidies up his station. His hands fly over the tables, reorganizing the space for his return. He fumbles his wrenches into their case in his rush. "How long have they been here? Why didn't anyone get me sooner?"

Leo doesn’t hide his grin, so happy to see Donnie this close to admitting his crush. “Oh, so they’re the password, huh?”

Donatello’s blush starts at his neck and rises up to his ears. “That’s not…” He gives a little huff as he rolls his tool cart to its place against the wall. “Shut up, Leo.”

Slinging an arm around Donnie's neck, Leo drags him into the hall. He grinds his knuckles over his little brother's head with a light chuckle. Though Donnie easily squirms free, Leo knocks him with a shoulder, a tease and a mark of support.

At first, Leo had been reticent to encourage his brother's feelings for you, but over time it's become obvious that Donnie’s affections are far from one-sided. Being what they are, that came as somewhat of a shock to him, but it was the best kind of surprise.

Donnie's lucky to have you in his life. And Leo hopes that one day soon, the two of you will get your acts together. It's about time you two admit just how happy the other makes you.

You're picking at the edge of the countertop, stomach in knots, when you hear the echo of footsteps draw near. Leo and Donnie enter the main living space pushing and shoving, but there's not a hint of anger on their squabble. Laughter stretches their smiles wide.

You bite your lips together, anticipating the moment when Donatello finds you. There's become a shared second of pause when you meet, though you don't know when that began. You try to prepare yourself for it each time, but it always leaves you breathless.

When Donatello’s eyes fall on you, his laughter peters out and his smile goes soft. Your lungs ache with the breath you've forgotten to release until Donatello breaks the spell. "I was told there would be cookies?"

You gesture to the box, hoping the slight tremor in your hand isn't obvious. "Lembas, actually." It's silly, your newly developed nervousness around him. Donnie is the person with whom you feel safest, most free to be yourself. He's your best friend in the world.

Your crush on him shouldn't change that. But it does. It could change everything.

Donatello's eyes slide to the box and his jaw drops comically. "Are you kidding me? How did you-? Why did-?" His long strides bring him to the table before he has a chance to form a full sentence.

"It's our weekend," you say. A blush colors your cheeks as you catch your choice of phrase. "I mean, Lord of the Rings weekend. Remember?" You fiddle with the ring hanging from your neck, your fingers running back and forth over the elvish script.

"I didn't. I do now! I didn't realize it was Friday until Leo… But Lembas!" He's probably the biggest nerd of you all.

"Go ahead." The mess of crumbs on the counter is evidence Raph and Mikey have grabbed their share. Thankfully, they left some for the rest of you.

Leo skirts around you to take a cookie for himself while Donatello inspects his square of pastry with care. Turning it over in his hands, Donnie hums. "It smells like citrus and almond."

"There's lavender too," you supply gently. It took a few tries and a few tweaks of the recipe you found to get it just right, but you're quite proud of the end result.

"Yeah," he gives a slow nod. "And lavender. I was getting to that." He looks at you in awe. "This is really… it's so cool."

"You didn't even try it." Your racing heart switches gears from nervousness to anticipation for Donnie to have a taste.

"Oh, right." Donatello takes his first bite, follows it quickly with a second, and the cookie is gone. "Wow." Crumbs fall from his lips and you chuckle at his enthusiasm.

"I can make more," you offer as he reaches for another, "if you guys like them so much."

Donnie nods and drops his gaze as he seems to consider it. "...maybe you can make them here," he says finally. "With me, y'know? Show me how it's done."

Your blush returns at the suggestion and you find yourself hesitant to agree to the plan.

Donatello's eyes blink wide and his almost pout is irresistible as always. You can't fathom why you'd give up the chance to be the one teaching Donatello something for once.

With a leap of your heart, you give in. "Yeah, of course. We can swing by my place later and grab the stuff. Could be fun."

"Could be," he agrees quietly.

Donnie meets your eyes again and the moment of stillness between you stretches long--

Until Raphael speaks up from the couch with an exaggerated groan. "Can ya please get over here already? There's a whole mess of movies waitin' for us and you're busy yappin'."

Donatello grabs the box of cookies and rummages through the cabinet for Pop-Tarts while you make your way over to the TV. Of course, not even lembas can fill his appetite for sweet pastry.

In the Pit, the lighting is dim. Title screen music rises and falls, drawing you into the fantasy world of Middle Earth.

Leo has taken a seat atop the back of the couch to give Raph and Mikey room on the cushions below. At the sight of your approach, Mikey scoots toward his brothers to make you a place by the armrest.

It's a comfortable fit, even for your favorite position, sitting with your legs pulled up, criss cross. But when Donnie comes in, there's no real room for him. He doesn't seem to mind. He places the plate of lembas and box of Pop-Tarts on the coffee table. Then, without hesitation, he takes a seat on the floor in front of you.

Mikey starts up the movie and the epilogue scenes cast the room in shadows and flashes of light. Donatello settles in against your legs and everyone's eyes focus on the screen.

The film plays and the temptation to reach toward Donatello increases with his every shift. Though he hasn't complained, you think he must be uncomfortable down on the floor. If nothing else, the way he rolls his shoulders probably means he's feeling stiff.

It's dark enough, you could lay your hands on his shoulders, work the knots out of his muscles and neck, without attracting the attention of his brothers. But you don't. As you indulge yourself in fantasy, Donatello shifts once more. He slides into position between your knees and the tails of his bandana catch on the hem of your jeans.

You stare for a moment, unsure if you're allowed to touch. Then, Donnie leans back and smiles up at you and you could swear your heart stops. It only lasts a second before his eyes return to the screen, but it fills you with comfort, confidence, and calm.

Careful not to tug, you take the tails of his mask in hand and lay the long strips of cloth over your lap. With steady passes, the fabric runs through your fingers. It's soft and worn. Stained and fraying on the ends. The movie plays on, but as far as you're concerned there's only this.

You twist the tails of Donnie's mask around your fingers. You tie them into loose knots, losing yourself in the quiet intimacy of having Donatello so close.

Donnie tips his head to the side as you play, turning his body just enough that he can rest his head on your knee.

You bend at the waist and drop your voice as quiet as it can go to avoid being overheard by the others. "You OK?"

Donatello nods, nuzzling his cheek against your knee just enough for you to notice. "It's nice," he says, and you drag the tails of his bandana through your fingers again.

As you sit up, you spare a glance at his brothers. Raph and Leo are sitting forward, elbows on their knees, enraptured by Arwen's race on horseback. But Mikey's watching you through the corner of his eye. He gives you a small, knowing smile before turning his attention back to the screen.

When it's time to switch DVDs, everyone agrees it's time for a stretch.

Donnie's the first one back to the Pit. And he takes it upon himself to lie across all three cushions of the couch with a lazy grin. Mikey doesn't even bother with him, ducking out to meet up with April and leaving his older brothers to fend for spots on the broken recliner and floor.

Donatello makes grabby hands as you return from the kitchen with a pair of sodas. You think he'll sit up, make some room. But to your surprise, Donatello exaggerates his sprawl. He takes the drinks and places them on the floor, then extends his hands toward you again.

You only have a second to register his request before he takes your hand in his and gently pulls you onto the couch with him.

Cuddled up between the couch and your back, Donatello gives a little shimmy and a wistful sigh.

Your heart is racing and you're tingling from your hands to your toes, but fitting against the curves of Donatello's bent knees and soft embrace takes no thought at all. And once you're there, you can't imagine ever wanting to leave.

The second Fellowship DVD comes to an end, and Donatello's breath tickles your neck, "One more?"

You shrug into the feeling of his words ghosting over your skin. "I'll fall asleep," you admit regretfully. You're so comfortable in his arms, you don't want to go home. But it's precisely that warmth and safety that are making it so hard to stay awake.

"I won't make fun of you if you snore," Donnie teases. There's soft pressure on your scalp and you're sure that's the feeling of him snuggling into your hair.

"I make no promises," Raph chimes in from the recliner. You'd long since forgotten you had company. The sound of his voice should come as a shock, should have you scrambling out of Donnie's arms. But it's only Raph, and he's picking on you the same as always. And there's a kind of approval in that -- the kind you never dreamed of receiving.

You try to shoot him a scowl, but you're grinning because you can't help it.

You were right about having difficulty staying awake. The film isn't on for five minutes before your eyes drift closed.

"Are you asleep?"

"Still listening," you mumble dreamily. Donatello's arms tighten around you and his chin tucks over your head. It's enough to send you adrift into a deep and peaceful sleep.

You wake up in the morning alone but wrapped in a purple knitted blanket you recognize from Donnie's room. You pull it snug around your shoulders as you sit up to check your phone. There's a text from your roommate and emails that can be ignored, but one notification stands out. You touch the media message from Raphael.

Though you roll your eyes at the blurry thumbnail, your curiosity has you pressing play. The video is only 20 seconds, anyway.

It loads immediately and the image clears. You smile at the closeup of Donatello asleep on the couch. The audio is low but you can clearly make out the snuffling rise and fall of his snores. You allow yourself a little laugh as you watch the video play through again. And you don't miss the way Raphael panned to show you and Donnie together dozing comfortably -- your limbs entangled and your face tucked into the crook of his neck.

You're unsure where you two stand and where your relationship will go, but your stomach is full of butterflies and your heart is content.

"Did you sleep OK?" Donnie asks as he comes in from the kitchen. He's brought tea and toast -- a simple but sweet gesture.

You take a moment to enjoy the sight of him bringing you breakfast 'in bed' and tuck your phone away with a smile. "I slept great."

#TMNT x reader #Donatello x Reader #Donnie x reader #gender neutral reader #nonbinary reader #prompt fill #request fill

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yslkook · 4 years ago

Text

#customer centric (4)

#corporate masterlist summary: you arrive in tokyo and spend a few days catching up and reminiscing. jin comes as well, with a few old friends that you haven’t seen in years. Or, you wander around the city visiting familiar places and go to a club with people you haven’t called friends in years. word count: 8656 warnings: cursing, parental death, discussion of mental health, lots of alcohol a/n: this is part 1/2 of being in tokyo!! this is the top i envisioned for oc lol

You missed Tokyo, and Tokyo missed you. The city itself brings bittersweet memories to you, memories of your childhood with your dead father and grandmother passing through your mind as if you’re watching a movie.

Your dad had brought you to Tokyo every summer when you were young, until you were about seventeen or eighteen. Tokyo had become more of a second home than a vacation place for you. You haven’t been here since college, about two years before your dad passed away. But despite that, it feels like home.

You can read, write, and speak Japanese fluently, which is part of the reason why you’ve been such an integral part of the team so far. The company’s sister branch is in Tokyo, and it’s not your first time visiting the branch, or interacting with your team members based in Tokyo.

You’ve wondered often, quite bitterly, if your fluency in Japanese is the only reason you’re even still on the team. Your boss and his boss at least trust you enough to be the responsible party for your team- there’s only one other member of your team here, Sana. But she’s relatively new, so the responsibility has fallen onto you.

That’s alright. You operate well under pressure.

You’re joined by your small knit team, Sana, Namjoon and Jungkook. Namjoon had managed to finagle with the budget enough that you could arrive a day early, on Friday, and spend the weekend in Tokyo before the workshops began on Monday.

And Seokjin would be flying in on Saturday morning with some of his friends. You’re grateful that at least Jin was coming. Whenever Jin makes these spontaneous types of trips, they’re bound to be eventful.

Monday and Tuesday will be filled with workshops, proposals and pitch meetings. You made Jin promise that he’d spend time with you during the weekend, so that you could show him some of the treasures you remembered from the city. Despite your many years of friendship, you had never been to Tokyo with Jin and you want to show him some of the places Appa used to take you to.

You’re excited. Even if Jungkook, with his big, sparkling eyes and his natural curiosity is coming along. Seeing him, even though it’s been well over three months that he joined the company, sends you down a dangerous path that isn’t fair to him or to you.

You have to constantly remind yourself that it’s not his fault and you shouldn’t be mean to him. It’s not his fault that your boss and his boss are out for your blood and refuse to give you recognition. But you can’t help but feel like he’s part of the problem that has faced you for the last three years. Part of the same awful old school, conservative mindset that so many of your peers were part of as well.

The leadership at your company needed a drastic overhaul, but you would be the last person to voice those thoughts out loud. Unless it was to Jin.

You know Jungkook doesn’t deserve your unspoken rage. You can admit that, but you’re not saint enough to channel it somewhere else. You’ve mellowed out considerably from the initial few months, but you could stand to be a little warmer to him.

After all, the way his bunny smile takes up half of his face when he offers it up to someone so worthy… that means nothing to you.

You arrive in Tokyo with your team at around eleven AM, and you check into your hotel rooms about an hour later. Jungkook and Sana had planned the logistics of the trip, from the hotel to the taxi service to lunch, dinner, and the company sponsored happy hour on Monday and Tuesday.

Because you were in Tokyo for work, you fully planned on using your company card to the fullest for the next few days. This company could kiss your ass, and you would be more than willing to spend as much as you needed to as a subtle ‘fuck you’. It was your version of flipping off your boss, for when he would have to approve your expense report sheet.

Namjoon had given you Friday to yourselves, to get acquainted with the hotel room and the area itself. Sana and Jungkook had done a good job with choosing the hotel- it has a wonderful view of the city from the rooftop, and being inside the sophisticated hotel with it’s hues of black and white and pops of color and elegance. This regal building screams opulence and you’re bathing in the luxurious feel of it all.

The diamonds of the chandeliers hanging high above you glint in the dim light of the lobby, bouncing off of the sleek, black piano and adding to the romantic air. Was this a love hotel? You scoff to yourself, keeping your head down as you exit the hotel and head in the direction of your favorite park, the Happo-en Garden.

When you had told your therapist that you’d be coming to Tokyo for the first time since your father’s death, she had immediately picked up on your hesitation-

“It feels weird to be there without him. Almost like the place doesn’t exist if he doesn’t,” You scoff, wringing your hands together.

“It certainly exists without him. And you do, too,” She says kindly, “Maybe you’ll feel close to him when you go there.”

And she was right, as she usually is. You sit alone at a freshly painted red bench with a box of street snacks, including some of Appa’s favorites. The sunshine glimmers against the still lake in front of you, hues of green fading to orange and red reflecting in the murky water.

This park was a favorite of Appa’s-

“We’re still in Tokyo, but it feels like we’re so far away. Right, sweetheart?” He asks, dark eyes shining. Appa’s hand tightens around yours and you nod excitedly.

“Yeah! Like we’re close to the princess’s castle!” You gasp.

“That’s right, but the only princess I see here is you,” Appa smiles and you beam at him, all smiles and sunshine.

The memory is from when you were maybe seven or eight years old. Everytime you came to Tokyo with Appa, you always came to this park. Specifically to this area, where Appa claimed that the sun shined on the leaves and the water in a specific way that made everything feel like magic.

You had always scoffed at him, especially as you grew older and the lines around his eyes grew deeper. But you still entertained him. You never saw that magic that Appa claimed to see, but now, you wonder how you could ever not see it.

A breeze ruffles through the trees, whistling as it threads through your hair and running over the water. The clouds part for a moment, allows a burst of sunbeams to spread over the water and you gasp at the sudden golden filter over the surroundings in front of you.

Another breeze, one from your left side, presses against your shoulder and your cheek. Almost like it’s whispering to you. You whip your head to the side, only to find nothing next to you. You feel like you’re floating, with the gentle caress of the wind to keep you company.

You eat your snacks in silence, embracing the way that it feels like the wind is Appa’s caress against your skin.

By the time you return to the hotel, the sun is beginning to go down and a bittersweet sort of happiness settles in your heart. You feel closer to your dad than you have in a long time- this city was bound to feel like home with its welcoming arms curling around you warmly. You had spent the better part of the day visiting old sights and places that you had frequented to with Appa.

It was peaceful, like a walk down memory lane. You could almost see your younger self bursting at the seams with joy at all of the new places. You could almost see her so eager to learn and demanding that Appa teach you Japanese immediately.

You wonder where that girl went. She’s lost, buried beneath layers and layers and maybe someday you’ll find her again.

Stopping by one of your favorite restaurants, you order all of your favorites times three. For your colleagues to have something to feast on when you returned from your day trip. You hadn’t been on your phone for most of the day, choosing to mute the group chat with your colleagues so you could truly be alone.

Once you approach the familiar blue neon sign of the restaurant, you send them a text:

you: evening all. dont worry about dinner, Im bringing lots of food back sana: look who woke up from her coma namjoon: did you put it on your card? you: of course i did. you dont have to remind me joon ;) you: want to have dinner together? jungkook: ya where should we eat Namjoon: come to my room, it’s room 1804 you: ok, be there in about thirty min

With your heart feeling full, brimming with fondness for your teammates, you pay for the heavy bags of food and make your way back to the hotel. You can’t help but smile as you walk with a little pep in your step.

“You should have asked one of us to help you,” Jungkook says reproachfully, taking half the bags from you.

Your arms ache, not that you’ll admit your stubbornness. You only smile sheepishly, “It was only a fifteen minute walk.”

“And this is a lot of food,” Jungkook muses, peeking inside as his doe eyes sparkle in anticipation.

“It’s our first team dinner in Tokyo. We deserve it,” You shrug.

“I also bought a few bottles of wine,” Sana chirps, dangling two bottles of red in her hands, “We deserve it.”

You laugh and she winks at you. Namjoon is already setting up the many boxes of food on the mahogany wooden desk in the corner of the room. The curtains are pulled back, affording you of a breathtaking view of the city lights and the now hanging moon high in the sky.

“The boss has the best view, huh?” You tease, nudging his shoulder.

“Jungkook picked it,” Namjoon shrugs, “I just wanted to share the view with you all.”

“How sweet of you,” You say sincerely, “Dinner with a view. That’s pretty romantic. And Jungkook has good taste.”

Jungkook’s ears flush at your praise and he covers his ears for a second. Not that you notice. You sit on the floor, across from Jungkook and offer to scoop food onto everyone’s plates for them. You ignore their protests and do it anyway, quietly asking how much of each they want. Sana fills up plastic cups with wine and labels everyone’s cup with a black marker so you can all keep track of them.

“How classy of us,” Namjoon snorts but says thank you to Sana.

“Did you bring wine glasses in your luggage?” Sana shoots at Namjoon, “I didn’t think so.”

You stifle your laugh behind your hand and shake your head. “Feels like college, if only those cups were red,” You joke.

“My roommate still uses red cups sometimes, for casual purposes,” Jungkook says softly, “It drives me up the wall. Like, can you drink out of a normal cup or what? I get flashbacks to beer pong almost every morning.”

You laugh a little harder at that, and the sound is sweet in Jungkook’s ears. He wants to see if he can get you to laugh like that a little more.

“I mean, we’re grown now. I can’t believe Taehyung sometimes, having his morning orange juice in a red solo cup. It’s heinous.”

Your eyes are overflowing with mirth, the sound of your genuine happiness echoing in Jungkook’s ears and he can’t help but smile in return.

“Morning orange juice,” You mutter, “That’s adorable. Taehyung? That’s the name of your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, “We did undergrad together and he’s an aspiring art gallery curator. He’s actually coming here tomorrow-”

“Wait, hang on,” You say after chewing through a mouthful of noodles, “Is this Taehyung, as in Kim Taehyung who you snuck into that bar with and he ended up getting absolutely hammered and stealing three bottles of alcohol? Before getting kicked out and Jin and I took you both home? That Taehyung?”

The fondness with which you speak of Taehyung unnerves Jungkook.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods, “That Taehyung.”

“Sounds like a real class act,” Sana says dryly.

“Wow, I haven’t seen him in years,” You exhale, “I think Jin’s bringing some friends from college tomorrow, too.”

“Yeah, he mentioned a Jimin and a Hoseok,” Namjoon adds.

“Damn, Sana, maybe we should’ve brought our friends, too,” You murmur, teasing but honestly, you don’t really have anyone you would’ve asked to bring, “Can’t wait to see what this boys weekend brings.”

You fully anticipate that Seokjin will rope you into whatever shenanigans they have planned, and you don’t even feel bad about crashing. You make a mental note to let Sana know of whatever plans they invited you to, so that she wouldn’t feel left out.

They don’t ask where you were all day, and for that you’re grateful. The lines of professionalism are beginning to blur for you, and you don’t want to burden them with your feelings and problems. You don’t want them to think differently of you for trying to catch a glimpse of Appa in your memories.

Jin would say you were being silly, but you can’t help it. Maybe someday, but not today.

But Jungkook does wonder. Where were you all day? When the group chat was going off, you were silent. It was none of his business, but he’s curious. And he’s curious about you. You hadn’t changed out of your day clothes or taken your makeup off. He can see the nearly gone darkened stain of your gloss on your lips and the curl of your lashes. Jungkook keeps his eyes above your neck, knowing that if his eyes begin to wander he would be even more of a goner than he already was.

It’s September in Tokyo, meaning that it was warm during the day and somewhat chilly in the evenings. Your dark green long sleeved shirt is tucked into your shorts, complete with a black belt, leaving your tanned thighs on display. Jungkook thinks he catches a glimpse of a tattoo peeking from your shorts, but he thinks he imagines it.

Until your shorts ride up just a little and he sees an array of colors and the fleeting sight of a flower on your upper thigh. Jungkook swallows nervously and stuffs his face full of udon noodles without hesitation. If his mouth is stuffed with food, then nobody will look twice at him and he can keep his thoughts to himself and ogle at you in peace.

The logic makes sense in his head.

Your voice carries over to Namjoon, telling him that you’ll be picking Seokjin, Jimin and Hoseok up in the morning with the rental car.

“Hey, if Taehyung is arriving at the same time, do you want me to pick him up?” You ask, turning your gaze to Jungkook.

“Huh?” Jungkook asks. You roll your eyes.

“Taehyung. If he arrives at the same time as Jin, Jimin and Hoseok, do you want me to pick him up?”

“Er,” Jungkook says eloquently, “He’s actually been here for the last week. Thanks, though.”

You want to say that Jin would cause a scene and whine at you if you didn’t pick him up from the airport, the prince that he is. But you keep it to yourself- after all, he’s somewhat of a boss to Jungkook and Sana.

You nod in understanding and shove more noodles and meat into your mouth. You stretch your legs out in front of you and Jungkook doesn’t look away, instead allowing his eyes to rake over you shamelessly. Nevermind that Namjoon and Sana are right next to him, probably wondering why he’s staring you down so intensely.

The four of you spend the rest of the evening discussing your plans for the weekend, avoiding the topic of work altogether. It’s nice, you can almost believe that you’re all just four friends making a weekend getaway without the confines of work looming over your heads.

Namjoon offers to split the remaining food amongst the four of you and puts equal amounts of everything into each container for all of you to take back to your rooms.

And then Sana pours more wine for each of you and you feel yourself beginning to get more and more relaxed with each sip you take. You want to open your stitched together lips, tell them how it’s been so long since you’ve had alcohol with anyone who wasn’t Jin. You want to tell them that you like red wine more than white wine, but nothing beats soju-

“What’s your favorite kind of wine,” Jungkook asks. He comes to sit next to you on the floor, stretching his legs out. His shoulder brushes against yours and you feel something like electricity at the soft touch.

“Um… I like reds over white wine. But I haven’t had that many reds to say which kind is my favorite,” You muse.

“Guess we’ll have to try some more red wine, huh?” Jungkook says, his eyes sparkling and bunny smile on display.

Your heart warms and sputters at the same time.

“Yeah,” You nod breathlessly, “What about you? What do you like?”

“I’m not picky. I don’t really like cabernet,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “Too bitter for me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” You giggle, unable to believe that such a noise is coming out of your mouth. Despite Sana and Namjoon having their own conversation on the other side of the room, it feels like it’s just you and Jungkook for a minute in your own bubble.

“I like a good chardonnay, too. Nice ‘n crisp.”

“Me too, I love that crisp taste of a good white wine,” You reply, unable to keep your eyes off of him for longer than a second. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are a pretty pink and you wonder if his cheeks are as warm as yours are.

“Thought you didn’t like white wine?” Jungkook murmurs, head tilting inquisitively.

“I prefer red, but if there’s white wine in front of me, I mean,” You shrug, “It’s not like ‘m gonna say no.”

“Oh? We’ll have to test that out, too,” Jungkook smiles, “I like soju the best. Nothin’ beats soju.”

“Yeah, peach and green grape,” You say knowingly, “The only flavors with rights.”

“Exactly. You get me,” Jungkook nods with wide eyes. He asks you about Tokyo, if you come here often. You answer him somewhat vaguely, but tell him that you grew up reading, writing and speaking Japanese. He looks impressed by that and the fondness in the lines of his lips startles you.

You chalk it up to the romance of this city making you soft and pliant to his doe eyes and the warmth of his smile. He’s so easy to get lost in- you find yourself leaning closer to him to hear what he has to say about his own travel dreams. He wants to go to New York City and Bangkok and Athens- the way his eyes light up constricts around your heart.

Every part of him radiates warmth and you want to be draped by it. He says something that makes you smile and laugh, and you swat at his shoulder reflexively. Jungkook only looks at you in that way. The way that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. He’s good at that.

He has hearts and stars in his eyes for you and it makes you choke.

Maybe you had imagined it all because you remember where you are. You’re in your boss’s hotel room and he’s standing right there. Jungkook sees the spark in your eyes disappear immediately and you pull away just as quickly, as if the moment had never happened.

He won’t deny the sting, but you’re so easy to get lost in. The fog in his mind clears, and while it’s only been a few minutes that you’ve been alone. It feels like much longer. But Namjoon and Sana are still deep in conversation, his dimples on display and her smile bright.

You pull away but your dark eyes are still wide and focused on him, stars swirling in your irises and Jungkook thinks he might fall into this wonderfully brown abyss held in your pretty face. Finally, you move away from him on the floor, almost immediately missing his warmth. You look back at him as you move to get some water, the same curious look on your face.

Your face is burning, and you’re surprised you’re able to keep this cool for this long. The urge to bolt from Namjoon’s hotel room and back to your own is one that you have to fight. But instead, you stay planted where you are. Jungkook confuses you, you hardly even know him and you had let him get so close to you. It’s not something you usually do, but what unnerves you is how nice it felt. The closeness of him, his eyes on you and only you. Are you bothered by it?

No, you realize. No. You quite liked it. You’re supposed to hate him- he represents everything you hate. A young kid, a boy, raising quickly through the ranks of your corporate world, while you grasp at straws.

Does he? Does he represent everything you hate? What a load of bullshit.

You swallow again. You need to leave.

“Hey, Joon,” You say softly, touching his elbow, “I’m going to head out. It’s getting late and I’ve gotta head out early tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s heart drops. He’d made you so uncomfortable that you were abruptly cutting your night short. Because of him. He needs to make this right.

“I’ll walk with you,” The words tumble out of Jungkook’s mouth before he can stop them. His heart is pounding in his ears- he needs to apologize before you hate him even more.

“Okay,” You reply with a smile, “Here are your leftovers.”

“I’ll walk with you both,” Sana says, taking her bag.

With that, you say your goodbyes and leave Namjoon’s room to the elevators. Your head feels like static, a wave of thoughts congealing into something impenetrable. The doors ding shut, all three of you standing on opposite ends of the elevator. You can’t look at Jungkook, you can’t see his doe eyes. Not right now.

Sana calls your name, “Thanks for the food.”

“No problem, Sana,” You murmur, “See you tomorrow.”

And then it’s just you and Jungkook in the elevator.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says immediately, “I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. If you don’t wanna talk to me outside of work, I get it-”

“What?” You ask, finally looking at him. You take a step forward, close enough to him that you’re in his orbit. “You didn’t… You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Jungkook. I would have told you if you did. You just… confuse me.”

The last bit comes out as a vulnerable whisper and all Jungkook can do is nod.

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” You say clearly, casting him a look over your shoulder as you exit the elevator. Your eyes are guarded once more, as if the night hadn’t happened. As if he hadn’t fallen for you even further. You wash him away from your bloodstream quickly and Jungkook feels his heart aching once more.

By the time you pick up Jin, Jimin, and Hoseok from the airport and arrive at the hotel, it’s nearly noon. The car ride back was fun, dare you say it. It amazed you how Jin still remained close in contact with people you went to college with. It felt natural, talking to Jimin and Hoseok. As if years hadn’t gone by.

They were hot, and that was your first assessment when you had met them at the airport. Jimin and Hoseok had both embraced you in tight hugs, without any regard for whether you wanted one or not. You found that you didn’t really mind.

You didn’t know how you were going to survive this weekend surrounded by these many attractive people.

“We should celebrate. For this reunion,” Hoseok says.

“Jungkook is here, too,” You reply, “A great big university reunion right here in Tokyo, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting you guys work together now,” Jimin says.

“Wait, you guys are friends still?” You ask.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Jimin says, genuine confusion in the handsome planes of his face.

You suppose everyone else is better at making and maintaining friendships than you are. It stings a little, having so many people from university in the same place. In the city that already holds so many memories for you. But you’ll embrace it, because that’s what you’ve been working on. Embracing change.

And of course, what was a boys weekend without a night out at the club? Jin had all but demanded that you come, in true dramatic fashion- I can’t go out without you, you know. I can’t believe you’re considering leaving me like this. I’ll die there without you.

It didn’t take much from you to roll your eyes but agree and tell him that you were inviting Sana.

“Go pregame and get ready with your boys,” You had urged him, “It’s so rare you all are together like this. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Are you sure?” Jin asked with uncertainty and you had only smiled warmly at him.

“Yes, Seokjin. I’m sure. I’ll be crashing the party soon, don’t worry,” You reassured him and he left your hotel room. He promised to text you when to come and you just nodded, shooing him away.

That had been nearly two hours ago, and you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup with Sana getting ready in the bathroom. Music is playing through your phone and once you’re done with your lip gloss, you make drinks and prepare shots for you and Sana.

“You’ve gotta tell me how you’re friends with so many hot men,” Sana says, taking a seat on the bed.

You scoff, “I’m really only friends with Jin. The rest of them come with Jin, we’re hardly friends.”

“Oh?” Sana asks with a skeptical raise of her eyebrow, “You all went to school together, right?”

“Yeah… Something like that,” You say lightly, “Jin kept in touch with all of them. I didn’t.”

You leave it at that and Sana knows not to press further.

“They’re all nice guys. I always had fun with them,” You say fondly, “You will, too.”

“Cheers to that,” Sana grins, “We look hot. Let’s take a picture.”

“Should we send it to our boss,” You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, that would send him off the deep end. He’d be here in five seconds, dragging us out by our ears,” Sana rolls her eyes as well with a laugh.

You try your best to make Sana feel as comfortable as she can with you. At least so that she’s comfortable when you go meet up with the guys later. You know it can be intimidating being around people who are so close, but they’ve always been welcoming.

It begs the question- why did you let them all go?

You don’t have time to unpack all of that. By the time Jin texts you, telling you to come to his suite on the eighteenth floor, you and Sana are three drinks and two shots in.

You’ve drank more in the last two days than you have in the last year alone. At least that’s what it feels like.

You make sure to take your hotel card, phone and wallet and ensure that Sana does as well. Giggles erupt from the both of you when you enter the elevator, and excitement thrums in your veins. The liquid courage bouncing around in your veins makes you feel relaxed and you tug Sana’s hand out of the elevator once the steel doors open.

You text Jin from outside his door, you can already hear the loud peals of laughter and the beat of music through the walls. You wonder if they’ve gotten any noise complaints yet, but probably not- his room is the only one on this side of the hotel. He probably did this on purpose.

When he doesn’t answer your text, you decide to knock obnoxiously and Sana giggles at your impatience. On your fifth knock, the door swings open and you see Jin’s tipsy face complete with reddened cheeks and his broad smile.

He hugs you like he hasn’t seen you in years, he even lifts you off of the ground a little bit. Your heart flutters with affection for him as you whine for him to put you down.

“Jin!” You shriek, “At least go inside, dummy- stop embarrassing me-”

He finally puts you down and holds you by the shoulders to take you in. His eyes are sharp and he says nothing as he assesses your outfit, apparently deeming you as acceptable as he waves you inside. He says hello to Sana, who returns his mellowed out hug graciously.

Jin hands you both full cups, and you trust Jin enough to know it’s a yummy but strong drink. You grip your cup tighter and allow Sana to go in front of you. The last thing you want is for her to feel left out, so you want the guys to be introduced to her first.

Besides, they all already knew you.

Jin does the introductions quickly, the guys all warming up to Sana and bringing her in for hugs as well. Her cheeks are flushed, and you knew she’d feel flustered. They’re intense in their friendliness and it would make anyone feel flustered and warm.

And then their eyes land on you and you wish you could melt into the floor. Six pairs of eyes stare back at you- apparently Yoongi had also decided to come as well.

College reunion indeed.

You stay close to Jin, offering them a weak wave of your fingers and a smile.

“Hello boys,” You say dramatically, “Long time no see.”

“Jin’s been hiding you all to himself, hasn’t he?” Jimin says, not bothering to hide the way he’s looking at you. And you don’t mind, not really- you know you look good.

“I just saw you this morning. When I picked your sorry ass up from the airport,” You reply and Jimin pouts at you as everyone around you laughs at his expense.

“Still so mean,” Jimin murmurs and you roll your eyes.

And with that, alcohol continues to flow as the chatter continues on.

You cast another glance to Sana, making sure she’s not by herself. You relax when you see her talking to Yoongi and Hoseok, smiling to yourself at how quickly she takes to them.

“Hey pretty,” Jimin says, seeing you near the alcohol and joining you.

“Hey you,” You parrot back and he smiles at you in that sweet, disarming way, “Want a drink?”

“You always made the best drinks,” Jimin says, handing his cup over to you. You ignore the way your chest tightens at his use of past tense.

“Maybe you just never knew how to make drinks,” You murmur, “Probably still don’t, huh?”

Jimin laughs lightly at that as a silence falls between you both. “You look good,” Jimin exhales, “You doin’ alright?”

You never know what to say to that. “Yeah. You look good, Jimin. You doin’ alright?”

“Yeah. I’m still in Seoul at the dance school. Don’t be such a stranger,” Jimin murmurs and before you can protest, he pokes your forehead affectionately.

“You’ll ruin my makeup,” You complain but give him a small smile, “Jimin. ‘M glad to see you. All of you.”

Jimin looks like he wants to say something more. But he bites his tongue. This isn’t the place to pick a petty fight, so he lets it go. Jungkook approaches you both, resting his arm on Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin groans dramatically and Jungkook only offers him a smile and a giggle.

“Cup’s empty,” Jungkook says, wiggling his cup to both of you, “Stop hoggin’ the alcohol.”

“Blame Jimin. Everything’s his fault,” You tease and Jimin rolls his eyes at you both.

“It is, isn’t it?” Jungkook grins and Jimin slips out from under Jungkook with another roll of his eyes. “Hey, you met Taehyung yet? My roommate? You ‘member him?”

His eyes are slick with alcohol, and yet they still sparkle at you like you hold all of the answers to the universe in them. He has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the world. It unnerves you, like many things about him do.

“No, where is he?”

Jungkook shouts for Taehyung to join him and you wince. All of a sudden his sandy haired roommate pops up from the direction of the living area and joins you at the drinks table. He looks a far cry from the boy you had driven home that night many years ago.

You knew being in the presence of so many attractive people was going to kill all of your brain cells by the end of the night.

Taehyung calls your name and nerves seize you inexplicably.

“You remember me?” The words escape your lips before your brain has a chance to stop them.

“Course I do? The pretty girl who saved Kook and I at that one bar that I’m still banned from?” Taehyung grins, his eyes sweet and sincere.

“Jin was with me too, don’t forget him,” You say dryly, “Nice to see you again after all this time. And you’re Jungkook’s roommate?”

“Unfortunately,” Jungkook chimes in, earning him a laugh from you.

Taehyung is magnetic when he speaks to you, honey dripping from his tongue as he tells you about his journey as an aspiring art museum curator. Passion lights up his dark irises, his smile matching the intensity of it and you’re certain he has this effect on everyone he speaks to. They’re both so close to you, in your bubble and the scent of their cologne wafts into your nose.

You drink more. You don’t know how to cope with all of this. So you drink.

Jungkook tells you that they’ve been roommates all through graduate school and they had recently moved into a new, bigger place. Now that they were both making a little more money. You find yourself benignly jealous of the life they live- two close friends living together and living for these kinds of nights with their other close friends. The bond they built and strengthened over the years is obvious in the way Taehyung holds Jungkook close, the way Hoseok lights up the entire room and makes everyone smile just because he’s smiling, the way Yoongi and Jimin bicker like an old married couple… Namjoon has already slotted himself within the group. Jin probably introduced him to them a while back, you realize.

Jungkook excuses himself to use the bathroom, leaving his cup next to Taehyung on the table. Taehyung’s gaze makes you nervous- the shift in his eyes is apparent as he lazily rakes his eyes over you.

“Kook told me he was workin’ with you again,” Taehyung murmurs, “What he didn’t tell me was how pretty you are.”

“What a line,” You say flatly and roll your eyes. To your surprise, he laughs, his smile making you smile as well.

“Just bein’ honest,” Taehyung shrugs, “‘Snot everyday you see our hot grad school girl after five years.”

“You’re full of it,” You roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully, “‘Our?’”

“Jungkook was-” Taehyung starts but he’s interrupted by the man himself. Jungkook was what?

“You talkin’ about me?” Jungkook says, elbowing Taehyung. Taehyung only shakes his head and hands him his cup, before excusing himself. He throws you another charming smile and if you weren’t so on edge, your knees might have buckled.

“He’s…”

“A pain in the ass?” Jungkook supplies, “Yeah.”

“No, I was gonna say he’s interesting,” You laugh. A short silence settles between you both, giving you a moment to really take him in. You itch your chin nervously before pushing your lips to the rim of your cup and watching him.

You’ve always known that Jungkook was somehow handsome, sexy and cute all at the same time- wide, doe eyes, pinchable cheeks, pretty smile, and then his body… His thighs strain against the tight material of his pants and you’re certain it’s deliberate. His button up shirt is loose but still molds to his muscles in that way where it leaves you wanting more. His shirt is buttoned at the elbow, giving you a peek to the smattering of tattoos on his forearm. His dark hair is parted in the middle, all soft and shiny, and a little long. It settles over his forehead, almost in his eyes, effortlessly. Two hoops in each ear glint in your direction and you swallow nervously.

Jungkook catches you looking at his tattoos- how ironic, considering he’s doing the same of you. The satin black top you’re wearing has a plunging neckline, giving him a view of the tattoos stemming from your upper arm to your clavicle.

It also offers him a teasing hint of your bare chest where if you turn to the side just a little, he catches a glimpse of even more. It makes him swallow, just as nervous as you. The top itself is loose, only cinched a little at the waist but your pants are tight, your strappy heels adding even more dimension to your legs.

You nervously twist the layering of gold necklaces around your neck. Jungkook has always thought you were beautiful, but he’s never seen you like this. Not even when he knew you years ago.

“Your cup’s empty again,” You laugh nervously, offering to make him another drink. You don’t know what to do with your hands, wanting to keep busy.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes, “Yeah.”

He tries to keep his eyes on your hands, really he does. But you bend forward just a little and his eyes immediately flit to your plentiful chest.

Jungkook thinks he might die, and what a way to go.

You pull away from the table, handing him his drink and he thanks you quietly. Jungkook ignores the way your eyes shine curiously at him, and he buries himself in the confusion fuzzing up his mind.

Jin, to your relief, pulls you away from Jungkook before you can do something incredibly stupid. Like let him burst through your carefully structured walls even further than he already has.

Typically, clubs are not your favorite place to be. The intense crowd, the neon lights, the smoke… It’s all over the top. Usually, you can’t even hear yourself think over the music. Though, you don’t mind the sense of anonymity in such a crowded place. Besides, you’ve heard great things about IBEX, so you’re curious about it.

It’s a huge place, easy for everyone to split up, but still small enough that you can easily find your group. You urge Sana to go have fun with the guys as you order a round of drinks for everyone. As one of the oldest of your friends, you felt that sense of responsibility for them. Even if you hadn’t called them friends in years.

You signal them over once the drinks are ready, catching Namjoon’s eye and beckoning him over. They slowly begin to surround you, shouting thank you’s over the music. Jimin slings his arm around your shoulders as if it’s nothing. As if he’s known you for all this time.

It makes you feel warm. He gazes at you with crescent eyes and a full smile. It makes your heart thump heavily in your chest.

“Cheers,” Jimin says, tearing his eyes away from you and towards the group. His toast elicits a sequence of ‘cheers’ from everyone. You scan across all of them before your eyes inevitably land on Jungkook. He’s looking at you with a smile, the kind of smile that makes you wonder if it’s a smile only for your eyes.

Your smile matches his in intensity, neither of you pulling your gazes away. Until Jin pulls you away from Jimin, exclaiming that he needs to dance with you. His best friend.

The moment passes, and you make sure Sana is okay. She’s conversing with Yoongi now, and he’s laughing at something she’s saying. It makes you feel warm. Again.

You allow the music to pump through your veins as laughter bubbles from your lips freely at Jin’s antics. You entertain him, copying his coordinated movements with his same enthusiasm. You can tell he’s drunk, from the fiery flush in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He abruptly pulls you close to him for a tight hug and holds your face in his hands.

“Jin,” You giggle, “What you doin’?”

“I love you,” Jin giggles, “Y’r my best friend, ‘n I love you.” He always got like this when you were drunk, so affectionate. You wonder how he knows exactly what you need to hear, when you need to hear it.

“Can’t wait for you t’meet Yuna when we get home,” Jin slurs.

“I’m excited, too-”

“She’s nervous y’know,” Jin continues as if you hadn’t said anything, “Knows y’r my best friend.”

“Jin,” You exhale, “Even if she doesn’t like me, you clearly like her. I shouldn’t matter-”

“No,” Jin says sharply, “Why d’you think you don’t matter? You matter to me.”

“Jin-”

“Stop it,” He silences you and you comply with a sigh.

“She doesn’t have to be nervous around me,” You finally say.

“You can be a little scary when you want to be,” He teases.

“That’s exactly how I want to be known,” You scoff and Jin laughs, swaying with you offbeat to the music. You stand with Jin like that for a few minutes, sipping on your drink and giggling at his antics.

“Seokjin,” You murmur, voice a little shaky, “I never say it but… I-I love you. So much. You’re my best friend and my rock. I don’t know who I’d be without you-”

“You’d be you,” Jin says without missing a beat, “You’d be scary, intense, kind, genuine, petty, funny and beautiful with or without me, sweetheart.”

Jin sees wetness in your eyes and pulls you in for another hug. “None of that,” Jin murmurs, “Hey, let’s take a picture ‘n send it to Grandma. She’ll get a kick out of that.”

You stand in Jin’s arms, in the crowd of people surrounding you and not paying attention to you. Despite the throng of people around you, it feels like it’s just you and Jin, and your friends in the club.

“Let’s get back to our friends,” You say, “They probably think we’re making out-”

“You would be so lucky,” Jin scoffs, “Only Yuna gets this handsome face.” You pinch his cheeks affectionately and coo at him.

“Hey, by the way,” Jin says, “Not to be totally unprofessional here. But I’m pretty sure Jeon Jungkook has the hots for you. Kid won’t stop lookin’ at you. Not that I can blame him, I mean look at your tits.”

With that statement, Jin walks away from you, leaving you confused and curious- two words becoming increasingly common with your thoughts of Jeon Jungkook.

“Hey pretty,” comes a sweet voice to your right side. You already know it’s Jimin before you meet his sincere eyes.

“Hey you,” You reply, “Wanna dance? We used to always be in sync.”

If Jimin is surprised he doesn’t show it. He only takes your drink and finishes it, placing it on a high table near you. He walks behind you, a hand on the small of your back as you weave through the crowd easily. Bodies push back into you but you only dance along with them to move past. Jimin pulls you closer to him once he finds a spot, pulling you into his side. He turns you so that you’re facing him, the lights of the club illuminating the sheen of his lips and the shine in his eyes. You push a stray strand of his silver hair back behind his ear.

“I meant it you know,” Jimin murmurs, for your ears only, “You look good.” You lean into him at his praise, a hand on his chest. Your nails press into the soft material of his dress shirt and he tightens his grip around your waist, thumbs rubbing circles.

“You do, too,” You reply easily, “You always did.”

Jimin scoffs but you look at him earnestly. “I mean it,” You say with a smirk, mimicking his words. He says nothing, only holds you and rolls his hips into yours to the beat of the music. He watches you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction. You snake a hand to the base of his neck and lightly scratch as he presses his nose to your neck. You’re lucky he’s holding you tight- you’re certain you’re knees would buckle if it weren’t for him.

It’s been years since anyone danced with you like this. You let out a soft sound into his skin and Jimin groans, pressing his hips into yours even more slowly if possible.

“Why’d you leave,” Jimin breathes into your skin, “Missed you. Missed my friend.”

“I was a mess,” You mutter, “I’m still a mess.”

“You’re here now?” He asks, looking at you with big eyes. Jimin cups your face tenderly, and you’re not sure how many of these kind touches you can take for one night.

“Yeah,” You say faintly, “I just… couldn’t. I still can’t.”

You won’t apologize for mending your own cracks the way you needed to. And Jimin knows that. “Don’t be a stranger,” Jimin says and pulls you in for a hug.

“Jimin,” You mumble, “I missed you, too.”

Barely stifling a yawn, you look around for your group. They’re all within eyesight of you- Sana and Yoongi were still engrossed in conversation with each other, Namjoon with Jin, Hoseok and Jimin and Taehyung with Jungkook. Taehyung casts a look over to you and immediately whispers to Jungkook. It shouldn’t surprise you that they both saunter over to you, standing on either side of you. Taehyung wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans against you as if you’re old friends. At this angle, you can see the expanse of his tanned, golden skin since the top few buttons of his shirt are popped.

“See somethin’ you like?” Taehyung asks coyly with a wink.

“No, just wondering why you’re wearing tinted aviators inside,” You mutter, pointing at him, “You look like an asshole.”

Taehyung laughs, throwing his head back good-naturedly, “You clearly don’t know fashion. You must think you’re hilarious.”

Before you can retort, a yawn overtakes you. “Are we boring you?” Jungkook teases.

“No, ‘m just tired,” You blink to force yourself to stop yawning, “Hey, you guys wanna get ice cream?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says instantly.

Taehyung nearly snorts but agrees. By the time you and Jungkook say your goodbyes, and you ask for the tenth time if Sana wants to come with you (she declines, opting to stay with Yoongi), Taehyung is nowhere to be found. Jungkook rolls his eyes, his phone vibrating with a text from him-

taehyung: you’re welcome

“Tae’s not coming,” Jungkook says slowly, wondering if you might change your mind if it’s just you two getting ice cream.

You shrug, “His loss. I know a great place.”

Taking Jungkook to one of your favorite ice cream places that you used to come with Appa to feels intimate. But it feels right and you’re not bothered by it. Once you buy your respective cones (you pay for both before Jungkook can even fumble for his card), you head back outside for a short walk towards the hotel.

The ice cream place itself was close to the hotel, though you had to Uber here from the club. It’s a nice night for a walk, a little chilly but not uncomfortably so. You and Jungkook fall into an easy conversation, talking about the silliness of your shared friends.

He looks nice under the moonlight, you decide. A light breeze lifts his hair up briefly before it flawlessly settles over his forehead.

“I can’t keep up with you,” Jungkook whispers, his words carrying into the night air.

“What do you mean?” Your heart picks up immediately at the anguish in his tone. The air between both of you shifts immediately. What was easy becomes hardened, the space between suffocating you. You can physically see him pulling away from you. Months, or maybe years, of frustration seems to be coming to a head right here. Right near your favorite ice cream shop.

“One sec you hate me. The next, you’re asking me to get ice cream with you,” Jungkook says, something familiar and icy curling in his brown irises. It always looks so off-putting, the callousness in his eyes. It seems to be directed at you so often these days.

“I don’t hate you-”

“You avoided me for 2 and a half months. You’re only talking to me now because you have to!”

“That’s not true-”

“Oh, really? You telling me that you the last two and a half months was all in my head?”

You stay quiet, because he’s not wrong.

“That’s what I thought,” Jungkook says to himself, tearing his eyes from you. The cold look in his eyes has returned and it makes your heart ache. He can’t look at you like that, you can hardly bear it.

“I’m fucked up, I get it. Don’t think I don’t get it-”

“You left. Without a goodbye and now fuckin’ five years later- my dream girl’s my colleague and she hates me.”

A sudden, chilling epiphany douses you- he has no idea why you left. You know him well enough to know that he’ll feel awful once you tell him. Apparently none of his friends had told him. Maybe they thought it was your story to tell. It’s not much of a story, not really. It’s the story of a heartbroken girl with commitment issues.

Your face drops. Maybe he’s hurting you the same way you hurt him. But it changes nothing.

“You can’t even look at me now!”

“You listen to me, Jungkook,” You hiss, “I’m not your dream girl. I’m nobody’s dream girl, so let’s get that straight. I’m awful a-and terrible and mean- and…

“My dad died,” You finally whisper, “Appa died and I couldn’t handle grad school so I dropped out. Dropped off the face of the earth. Got the first job I could, for Grandma and me.

“I fuckin’ dropped out, my daddy died and I can’t look at you sometimes because it fuckin’ reminds me of when I was happy and I can’t chase that feeling because I don’t know what it feels like anymore!”

Jungkook’s eyes are wide, pretty pink lips parted in speechlessness. Fuck. You’ve ruined any chance at friendship with him, you know that. So you bury the dagger even further in whatever this is and you turn on your heel and run. Because that’s all you’re good at. Running. Your eyes are blurry with freely falling tears and the sound of your own heaving sobs are loud in your ears.

You leave your heart out on the streets of Tokyo, near your favorite ice cream shop but you don’t even hear the sound of Jungkook chasing after you.

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts x reader #bts fic

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sheisstarryeyed · 3 years ago

Text

The First Lesson

It was early when she came to me. It was after the children were at school and her fiancée had gone fishing. It was strange since she did not come find me often, if at all. The Raen’s stormy grey eyes looked distant and critical when she did find me but that was alright. I was getting used to her judgmental stare. After all, I did ask her if she could teach me something she had not been willing to teach before. She said she had somewhere to take me and I followed without question, trusting too easily. After all, Mayu was the one who watched over everyone in the Compass. Everyone spoke well of her even if there was a hint of fear in their voices. Or was it awe? Sometimes, it was hard to tell.

It took a few bells to get to our destination. It was on the edge of the Black Shroud, close to Coerthas. You could see the thinning of the trees and the start of the snow that covered the Ishgardian territory but it was neither the Shroud protected by the elementals, or Ishgard where the dragons roamed. A strange in between where the almost worn down building was. I wondered if she was going to dispose of me or if I had done something wrong. I found my hand wrapped around that protective vial more than once.

When we entered the building, it was much nicer than it was on the outside. A soft whirring of machinery and yet the distinct smell of books and sterilization. A mixture of a workshop, a library, and an infirmary all in one with just the smells alone. The floors were wooden but there were places they were metal, like the stiff bed that had leather straps attached to it or where there seemed to be a device for a containment field. There was a desk that looked to have seen better days, scratches in the wood as if it was from idle boredom rather than violence. Along the back wall there were rows upon rows of books, many without titles but those that did were in a language I did not immediately recognize until I truly looked at it.

“Welcome to my workshop. You are one of the few I’ve willingly brought here with intention of leaving.”

Her words were smooth, calm and collected. She held herself proudly and without remorse. She took a step forward and she reached for a book, pulling it down, then another and another. Once the sequences was complete she took a step back and the shelves flipped revealing a glass case on the other side. Crystals of different colors and vibrancy resting on pillows that looked easily preserved but perhaps a little dusty.

“Now, we see if you have the fortitude to learn what it is you wish to learn.”

I do not think I expected what I saw. Maybe it was because she had always been so adamant about doing the right thing and being seen as proper adventurers. That was the woman I had come to know over the years. But there was something else here, as if it was lying in wait. Coiled like a serpent and waiting to strike and soon, I realized why. Every single crystal that was on that shelf was a portion of a soul or a whole soul itself. Her fingers longingly touching the glass as if it was a memory long past and maybe, it was for her. I had only known her magic to soothe the soul and what could break it. It was why I asked to learn it in the first place. I wanted to be able to heal the way she did. I wanted to learn how to help those I cared about.

My eyes rested on one in particular. I knew that crystal already. I had held it in my hands and felt that familiar thrum from its purple contents. It was how I knew that the person I loved couldn’t die. It would be the reason that he’d always come back to me like he promised. It was the snap that got my attention and the containment that I knew was there opened and pushed up, revealing a man who had seen better days. He was an Elezen with sallow skin and sunken cheeks. How long had he been there? There was the natural reaction to want to let him out but I paused, just watching the man as he looked wild eyed at us.

I didn’t like his colors. They were red and black, angry and full of malice. He lunged at the glass and Mayu did not even flinch when he did so but I could not help but instinctively move behind her. She did not seem to mind but instead walked closer.

“I intend to let him live for now for you to work on. He’s got the durability to undergo multiple bits of practice for you but don’t worry, he was not a good man. Technically wanted by Gridania for... oh what was it...”

She seemed contemplative. Almost as if the details of what he did wrong was not relevant but as if she was giving them to me for my own comfort. I could not say I had not harmed others because of things that I deemed as misdeeds. All people are sinners but no one needed to know that. It was better no one knew that.

“Ah, that’s right. The kidnapping and murder of several individuals in a hamlet.”

I could not help but look at the Raen woman and she just gave an amused smile as the man scratched at the glass, blood trailing from his fingers. It was as if he was nothing but a wild animal. “And now, let us begin your first less. How to look at the soul and then dissect its pieces.”

So it seemed she did not have much left to deliberate on. It seemed she made a decision. And I was ready to learn.

@mayuthemage

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anon-e-miss · 4 years ago

Text

Primus Help the Outcasts 6

It was difficult to believe. He was waiting for the rug to be ripped out from under his peds but he could not be frozen in place by fear. Even if this reprieve was only temporary, Prowl needed to seize it with both servos for his creations’ sakes and to take full advantage. He needed to get healthy and strong. Then he could better plan for the battles to come. Prowl did not want to believe anything could be worse than had already befallen them, but he did not dare chance fate by making such proclamations.

There was a chair ready for him at the table. Someone had arranged cushions on it so that it might be more comfortable for his doorwings. They had done the same for the two Smokescreen and Bluestreak occupied. As he had always instructed his creations to, Prowl washed up, and then took his seat. Just walking to the table had exhausted him. The crash had trained what fragile reserves he had been clinging on to and now they were gone. He felt weak as a cyber-kitten and considerably more helpless. Sprocket served him a navy blue cube of energon with flecks of minerals floating in it. Medgrade. Prowl felt anxious and frail and he did not know if he could even hope to eat, let alone keep it down but Bluestreak went on in great detail how he and his friends had helped the Twins’ grand-genitor make everything from the dough to the sauce completely from scratch. He was so proud, of course Prowl had to eat a slice of chrome-alloy pie.

“What was that scandal wit yer origin ya mentioned?” Jazz asked.

“He assassinated Zeta Prime.”

“Woh. What now?” Punch gasped. His sparkmates froze. “Yer originator was Camshaft?”

“You know of my originator?” Prowl asked, surprised. He looked to Jazz, who seemed equally surprised.

“We worked in the same business,” Punch replied. “Sometimes for the same side. After it was done, he went silent. We figured the worst.”

“He escaped,” Prowl explained. “Off world, I believe. I was attending school in Simfur at the time. He sent me packages without any return address from time to time. I was questioned regarding the matter repeatedly when I was young. I found the last package on my desk at the precinct shortly before I went on leave to have Bluestreak.”

“It was a brave thing he did,” Sprocket said. “He knew his life would be over but no one else could get close.”

“My originator was angry he had played a part in the tyrant’s successes,” Prowl replied. He remembered how angry Camshaft had been when the Institute’s crimes had been revealed and then the news so perfectly and ruthlessly oppressed. “The assassination would have been restitution to him.”

“It’s a small world,” Punch said and he shook his helm. “He never hinted to havin’ a creation or a Conjunx. He didn’t let ya become a target. No choice for us. Our whole family was in the business, that was the lot. Jazz and Ric had to grow up quick.”

“I remember Camshaft,” Jazz said. “Sometimes I’d try to eavesdrop on ya’ll. He caught me ‘bout as often as ya. I loved it when ya let me in on what ya were plannin’. The last time he game round, ya spent joors in Geni’s workshop, ‘n I came snoopin’ round again. He caught me. Shook his helm ‘n said this one wasn’t for me.”

“We weren’t sure if it might come back on us,” Rumbler explained. “We were makin’ plans to disappear if it got warm, let alone hot. But no one ever sniffed at us. We never heard from ‘m again.”

“The authorities knew when he sent me parcels,” Prowl explained. “I imagined my progenitor or the school informed them. He was deeply angry by my originator’s actions. The scandal forced him to step down from the senate. He had me surveilled. He was certain my originator would come for. He may have tried. He likely wanted to. But I was too closely monitored.”

“Yer progenitor arranged yer bondin’ then,” Jazz guessed.

“He picked a mech like himself,” Prowl declared.

“That don’t sound like a compliment,” Jazz replied.

“It was not.”

“He was nasty,” Bluestreak declared. “He smacked me because I was talkin’.”

“Bitty Blue, that’s awful,” Rumbler hissed.

“It’s okay,” Bluestreak said. Prowl flicked his doorwings at the memory. Bluestreak smiled up at him. “O’gin punched him.”

“Ya got a tough, Ori,” Jazz declared. “Took after his ori, I think.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said, he found himself relaxing as he found himself around friends and not merely benefactors. “I like to think so.”

The revelation that his originator had been friends and colleagues of Jazz’s procreators made Prowl feel safer in depending on their aid. Camshaft had paid a very personal price for being the triggermech for the assassination plot. Prowl had paid one too. Though he had not lost his originator completely, somewhere out there he new Camshaft lived, Prowl had never seen him again. His creations had never met their grandoriginator, who would have spoiled them if he had been able. They had only known their grandprogenitor who had treated them with no more grace than he had his creation. The boarding school in Simfur had been Camshaft choice for Prowl as his duties had taken him further and further afield. The distance from Praxus had protected him from his progenitor’s scornful impatience.

“Smokey helped me set up yer hab,” Jazz revealed after they finished dinner. Prowl offered to clean up but he was firmly refused.

“I got it,” Punch declared. “Ya got quartexes o’ rest to make up for before I wanna see ya liftin’ a digit. Go on up, get settled in.”

Smokescreen and Bluestreak each took hold of one of Prowl’s servos and let him out of the apartment. The stairs loomed and Prowl did not entirely trust his peds but he let himself be guided up. Jazz was close behind him, closer than Prowl normally cared for, but in this instance it was reassuring. If he felt, Jazz could stop him. The Twins followed after their progenitor. They were excited to have their best friend so close. Prowl was happy Bluestreak had made friends as generous and devoted as these two. Had they not gone to their progenitor wishing to help their friend... friends really, Prowl did not care to think what this next dark-cycle would have brought. Smokescreen entered the door code and the door slid op with a soft swish. The mechlings led him inside.

“This is amazing,” Prowl said as he looked around the open concept room. There was a table and chairs in the kitchen. A solid couch sat in front of an entertainment centre. Smokescreen hugged his arm.

“They asked me to help pick what we needed. The couch is as close to one back home as I saw and we caught lost of cushions to make it even better.”

“It is perfect, Smokescreen,” Prowl had static in his voice and tears in his optics.

“It reminded me of our place... when it was just us. Not that stuffy stuff he liked.”

It was not unlikely the simple, comfortable furnished Prowl had purchased for the habsuite he had rented. Those seven vorns had been the best of his life. Bluestreak was the only solace that had come from returning to that bonding. He was the only boon. Prowl hardly trusted himself to remain standing but he wanted to see what else they had chosen, Smokescreen was so pleased and so proud. His creations led him to the first berthroom. It was theirs to share. Two berths with drawers built into the frames sat against opposing walls. A blue geometric patterned quilt covered the berth that would be Smokescreen’s and a red and black striped one covered Bluestreak’s berth. There were two desk, a bookshelf and a chest of toys. The furniture looked solid, like it was meant to be lived on. Pictures covered the wall at the head of the berths. They were image captures from his mechlings own memories. Family moments, moments with their friends, Prowl teared up again.

“You do not mind sharing?” Prowl asked.

“We like it,” Smokescreen promised him and for now it might have been true. That was enough. “I hope you like what we did for your berthroom.”

“I am sure I will.”

A berth was all he could possibly imagine wanting. It could have been stiff as rock and that would have been enough because it was not in the shelter. There was no looming threat of someone wandering in. The door opened and Prowl saw it was a great deal more than a berth, though it was a wonderful berth. Smokescreen had chosen a heavy black and white quilt to go over red sheets and pillows. A bright red armchair sat in the window and a desk sat against the opposing wall, with bookcases on each side, bookcases that were full of datapads.

“Do you want to lie down?” Smokescreen asked. “You’re tired.”

“I would rather sit with you in the other room,” Prowl replied. He need to sit before he collapsed. This was all incredible and overwhelming. They led him out to it and Prowl did not quite collapse into it, but he did sag. The pillows were blissful. Smokescreen burrowed into his side and Bluestreak climbed into his lap. Jazz stood by. “Thank you. This is more than I could have imagined.”

“Y’all deserve a comfortable home,” Jazz declared. “There’s plenty o’ fuel in the pantry, but ya won’t need to cook wit my genitor downstairs. He’ll bring ya whatever ya could possibly want, hot ‘n ready to go.”

“I am a terrible cook,” Prowl said.

“We can teach ya, if ya want, when y’re stronger,” Jazz replied. “Rest for now, we got everythin’ else taken care of. Box over here has the makings o’ a shrine for the Festival. I thought that was somethin’ the three o’ ya outta do together.”

“Yes, thank you,” Prowl said. “Thank you so much.”

#primus help the outcasts #maccadams #anon-e-miss writes #previous trigger warnings apply #fluffy fluff fest

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