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finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Text

he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his.

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?"

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid.

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry.

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

899 notes · View notes

sserpente · 4 years ago

Photo

A/N: Heyho there my lovelies! I’m finally back! I missed posting so much! This Imagine is based on a TikTok I found and what can I say? It inspired me! After this, next up, will be the 20k Special! Enjoy everyone!

Words: 3205 Warnings: colour-blindness

“What if I never find him?” You murmured, glancing at the fruit bowl with a saddened expression. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. To you, they were all different shades of grey. Dull and boring, like you had been sucked into a 30s black-and-white film. Only you didn’t get a cheesy romance out of it.

You had been born with what doctors today would call a ‘remarkably rare, complicated and fascinating condition’, for you had lost all of your colour vision at the age of twelve. You still remembered what the world had looked like before—bright, rich, intense—then someone flicked a switch overnight and all you could still see was grey, grey, grey and greyer. The colours would only ever come back to you once you found the love of your life—your soulmate.

A sigh escaped your lips. Only a few people still existed with this… defect and to make things worse, you had had no idea you were one of them. Not until your twelfth birthday. Society admired and pitied you all the same and yet, being a hopeless romantic, at the end of the day, you longed to finally fall in love.

Tony chuckled. “Heads up. You’re too young to worry about settling down anyway.” He responded cheerfully and pointed at you with a screwdriver in hand. He had been trying to fix the dishwasher for a solid twenty minutes now and for a man who had built himself a pretty much indestructible suit that could fly, it was utterly amusing he couldn’t figure out why it had stopped working.

You were not an Avenger, mind you. The sole reason you were, as of right now, in the Avengers’ kitchen munching on grey chocolate chips was that your best friend, who in turn was friends with Clint’s wife, had managed to flood your shared flat over the weekend. It was utterly inhabitable now and it would take quite a while for the landlord to get it all dried up again—and since insurance would not cover the cost for staying in a hotel, for the time being, Clint’s wife had suggested you’d stay with them—right until Tony Stark had shown up and you had graciously offered you’d come hang out at the Avengers Tower. Okay, technically you had begged him but either way and needless to say, you had jumped at the opportunity and somehow even hoped that you would learn some dirty superhero secrets—but so far, nothing. Nothing but what superheroes did when they were not out and about saving the world. Truth be told, seeing Thor in Hello Kitty pyjamas and witnessing Natasha Romanoff of all people scream watching an Asian horror film had its perks but you had somehow expected for them to be called in for an urgent mission where they required a skill only you had and then they would rely on your help and you would fight and become an Avenger and… your fanfiction had always sounded too good to be true.

“Are you still there? How is that fruit bowl so interesting?” Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you blinked.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that…”

“Tony?” It was Bruce who interrupted you two, peeking his head into the kitchen almost timidly. You waved at him and he nodded, yet he failed to reciprocate your smile. Uh-Oh.

“Did something happen?”

The scientist nodded. “You might wanna put on your suit.”

“What happened?”

Bruce pursed his lips. “We’ve located Loki.”

Your eyes were still widened by the time you rushed after Tony even after he had told you explicitly (three times, to be exact) to stay put and hide until he had been put in custody.

The Loki. God of Mischief, Thor’s brother, Frost Giant, the I-tried-to-take-over-the-planet-guy. It was exciting, somehow, meeting a villain and oh, would it fuel you for your fan fiction. You almost bumped straight into Thor when they all came to a halt all of a sudden, his body a wall of flesh and muscle and making you grunt in pain—you might as well have hit a brick wall. With his hammer in hand, he ensured no one would approach his dangerous brother closely enough for him to try anything funky.

But the fact that Loki was even more handsome in person and the first villain you ever saw in person when he turned around the corner with a proud and arrogant expression on his face despite his shackles, was not what startled you to the core.

All of a sudden, there were colours. Everywhere.

Your lips parted, the impact of all the pigmentation around you making you dizzy. Loki’s armour was black, his cape was green, his eyes were blue, and his hair reminded you of the plumage of a raven. And your surroundings... The compound was silver now, the sceptre they had taken from him golden. Nauseous, you held on to Thor’s muscly arm for support. The God of Thunder frowned in concern. His eyes were blue too, his hair blonde, his cape red… too… many… colours. You suppressed a gag, overwhelmed by the sudden return of your colour vision.

“Are you okay?” Thor asked.

“G-guys… I can see colours.”

Every single head in the room, including Loki’s, turned in your direction so fast you flinched. Tony’s face was the first to fall in response.

“You are joking, right?”

Mutely, you shook your head. Your eyes locked with Loki’s, electricity rippling through you when they did. His blue irises froze you from the inside out, like each and every one of your limbs failed to resist the magnetic pull you felt towards him, and your cells longed for you to throw yourself into his arms—despite the fact he was handcuffed... and for a good reason too. Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to look away.

Loki was your soulmate. That was impossible; and quite frankly, the god in question appeared to be thinking the exact same thing.

You chewed on your lower lip, anything to distract yourself from your predicament all the while everyone was still staring at you like you had grown two more heads.

“Take him to the cells, I’ll stay with her.” Clint’s hand on your shoulder did little to console you. Part of you still barely resisted the urge to start at Loki like a succubus, the other… the other was terrified and meant to hide in the archer’s embrace.

You could feel Loki’s blue gaze still resting on you when he led you away from the scene, staring daggers into your back and rendering you speechless until you were finally out of sight and Clint shook your shoulder gently.

“Are you sure it’s not one of the security guards that helped bring him in?”

“No… no, I saw them first. Loki was behind them. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it but somehow, Loki was in colour first, you know what I mean? First him and then, a split second later, everything else was colourful too.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

“Do you still see in colour now?”

“Of course I do.” Clint sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“So what happens if you don’t… act on this soulmate thing?”

“Nothing. Nothing happens.” You said.

“So you don’t have to… stay close to Loki or anything?”

“No. Not that I know of. But Clint—“

“Good. Because he might find a way to use you against us. Stay away from him. Thor’ll take him back to Asgard soon enough. All we need to do first is find the Tesseract.”

Your lips were pursed when he turned to check on them and if Loki was wreaking havoc while they were trying to get him imprisoned.

Stay away from him? Of course… it was the most reasonable thing to do. Loki was dangerous, a criminal… but was that right? Now that you had found your soulmate in him?

You couldn’t get him out of your head that night. Screw the danger, you had to see him. And eventually, your curiosity and that inexplicable and strange pull you felt towards Loki got the better of you. With a deep breath, you threw your covers back and let your bare feet hit the cold floor before quietly tiptoeing out into the dark and empty hallway.

Your blood was rushing in your ears, making you hear things your paranoia and imagination cooked up to the point your heart was pounding in your chest so hard and fast you feared it might jump right out of your ribcage. No one could know, of course. Clint would positively kill you—he, along with Tony, somewhat considered himself responsible for you here. You couldn’t really blame them. If something happened to you, they’d never forgive themselves. You were an innocent civilian, after all.

And now you had been tossed into the greatest fanfiction yet. Shivering, for the cold slowly crept into your bare skin and through the tanktop and shorts you were wearing to sleep, you finally reached the corridor leading to the elevator. The prison cells, a rather new addition to Stark Tower, were located at the very bottom, the cellar, or… what you preferred to call it, a modern dungeon.

You found Loki with his back turned to you in his cell, looking pale through the glass pane. Your heart skipped a beat when he suddenly spoke up.

“I expected you would find a way to come and see me at some point. I’d dare say the Avengers have taken quite the precautions to keep you as far away from me as possible.” He mused. He lifted his chin, approaching the glass window.

It was quite ridiculous to assume that this tiny and meagre prison would keep the Trickster at bay after everything he had proven to be capable of. If only he wanted to, he could shatter that glass with but a flick of his wrist or break the heavy metal door posing as the only barrier between you.

If you were to just… unlock that door to touch him… it would be so easy. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head to chase the thought away.

“Who are you?” He asked and for just a brief moment, you believed to see genuine interest and curiosity sparkling in his stunning blue eyes.

“No one, really. You already know my name, I presume but that’s all there is. I’m not special—I mean, I don’t have superpowers. I’m just a regular human with a rare condition.”

“Oh, I see. Surely you had not hoped for a criminal of all people to be your soulmate then? A murderer? A monster?” His expression hardened.

Yes. But you were not going to tell him that. He was still the person to have made you see colours again, regardless of who he was and what he had done. There must have been a connection between you, you felt it after all! And you were certain that he felt it too.

“Thor will take me back to Asgard and the great King Odin,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “will surely have me executed. You will never see me again. So do not worry.”

“I don’t want that.” You finally chirped, barely daring to look him in the eye. His gaze was scrutinising and intimidating… almost as if he was able to see right into your soul with but one single glance.

Loki frowned.

“I bet you’re not happy about this, are you?” A desperate scoff escaped your lips. “I’m not sure I am…” You confessed and sat down on the chair in front of the window. It creaked a little under your weight, the unpleasant sound echoing through the empty hallway.

This man right in front of you was not be trusted and yet, the desire to pour your heart out to him was so strong you felt it like a sea of emotions attempting to drown you.

“You know ever since my twelfth birthday I wondered when I would finally meet my soulmate. Who they would be, what they would be like… and then so many years passed I was beginning to worry I might never see colours again. That I’d be alone and grey for the rest of my life.”

Loki licked his lips and glanced up at you, listening intently to every single word you said.

“Now I met you and they all tell me not to trust you. I mean… I know who you are, I know what you’ve done. I can’t say I’m happy about the fact my soulmate is…” You stopped yourself, breathing in sharply. “What was the universe thinking? You are a god and I’m just… me. We live light-years apart!”

Eventually, after a moment of surprisingly pleasant silence between you, Loki hummed. “The Norns do have interesting ways.” He said, locking his eyes with yours, almost as if he was pondering if… if what? If he could imagine being with you?

“So what should we do? Never speak of it again? Pretend we have never met? I can’t just… come to Asgard with you.” You held your breath when you realised what you were considering here. Loki must have thought the same. He smirked in response—not mockingly but bitterly. “Odin would never allow a mortal on Asgard. If I was to survive my trial, that is.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t care you’re a criminal right now, I just found my soulmate, and I don’t want to lose him again right away, regardless of what happens between us.”

With a start, his face fell. “Nothing will happen between us. That would be unnecessarily cruel, would it not? Your life in the nine realms is but a heartbeat compared to mine.”

“So… this is goodbye?”

Loki hesitated. You noticed by the way his lips slightly parted without a single sound escaping them just yet.

“Yes. This is goodbye.”

The fruit bowl had become your new best friend. In the morning, tired and rather absent, you sat at the kitchen table holding on to a steaming mug of coffee all the while studying the different colours of the fruit before you like a complicated Maths formula.

“Did you have a good chat last night?” Clint barked at you when he entered the room, skipping the ‘Good morning’.

“Huh?”

“With Loki?” He probed, raising his eyebrows in an I-already-know-what-you’ve-done manner.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said, shaking your head and focusing your gaze on the fruit bowl again. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. In colour.

You flinched when Tony spoke your name. “We saw the footage on our security cameras. You sneaked to his cell last night knowing fully well why you should stay away from him, especially with… with… you know.”

Fuck… the security cameras. You had completely forgotten about those! Of course the legendary Tony Stark would have had security cameras installed all over the damn place!

Busted, you shrugged your shoulders as nonchalantly as you could muster. “I just wanted to talk him. I had to talk to him. I know what you’re all thinking—that he’s evil and brutal and cruel and ruthless… and… and you’re probably right? I… I don’t even know but… he is still my soulmate. I can see colours again because of him for Fuck’s sake! I can’t just… ignore that.”

“I get it. We don’t know what it must feel like. But it’s for the best. We don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I am his soulmate, too. He wouldn’t dare hurt me. You know maybe he’s not the monster you all think he is.”

“Are you saying that because you know him so well after last night or because that is what you want to believe?”

Both. “I just… have a feeling.”

“Right.” Tony clapped his hands. Your name left his lips almost like a plea. “You have to trust us.”

Thor nodded. “Loki is dangerous. You should stay away from him at least until we know he is not still plotting the domination of your planet.”

“What do you mean ‘at least until’? You can stop staying away from him when he’s back on Asgard and out of your reach.” Tony snapped.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe.” Steve intervened. You sighed.

“You know what? I’m getting a headache and I’m still tired, so I’m gonna go back to bed.” That wasn’t even a lie—well, at least the fatigue bit wasn’t. Besides, the blackout curtains in the room Tony let you stay in were heaven-sent.

That was until a loud tumult in the Tower woke you up again, even though you were not sure anymore you had actually fallen asleep once your head hit the soft pillow.

“W—“ Your scream of protest was muffled by a cool palm covering your mouth. You struggled briefly, ripping your eyes wide open in a weak attempt to make out who was assaulting you in the comforting darkness of your room when you suddenly heard a soothing voice shushing you.

“It’s me…”

“L-Loki?” You choked out when he removed his hand again. “Did you… did you break out of your cell?”

“It would seem so. Come.”

“What?”

He tilted his head. “I don’t have much time.”

You stood, throwing the covers back when he already reached for your hand and held it tightly, pulling you with him into the hallway and towards one of the more hidden exists of Stark Tower, a flight of stairs illuminated only by emergency lights.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I am proving to you that I am more than just a criminal.”

“Oh… but… um… where are we going?”

Loki smirked. Your eyes widened when he pulled out the Tesseract seemingly out of nowhere, its blue light glowing brightly in the dark and throwing artistic shadows on his face.

“Hold on tight.”

“Loki…”

The God of Mischief pulled you close, making you gasp. Your chest hit his, his arm wrapping around your waist. With his face only inches from yours, you could feel his warm breath on your lips, and suddenly longed to kiss him.

“You are my soulmate. I am not leaving you behind.”

“What happened to ‘goodbye’?” You chirped.

Loki tilted his head almost threateningly. “You are mine. Don’t you think I wanted to leave this place without looking back?” His expression softened. “But I couldn’t. Because of you.” And you might just be the only woman to ever love me in this way, he added silently.

“B-but… Y-you said Odin will never allow me on Asgard and… and…”

“I never said we were going to Asgard, now was I?”

Your lips parted. Could you trust him? The stranger who had finally made you see colours again? If you told him No, would he let go of you? Would he let you run to Tony and Clint and Nat so they could protect you from him? Swallowing thickly, you met his intense blue gaze and nodded.

Loki smirked and winked. “You are in for an adventure.” And you knew he wasn’t lying. Next thing you knew, you were both hurtled through space and into a shared future.

A/N: ☕

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remsmoonlight · 3 years ago

Text

— title : i need you

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : ryuji goda x reader

— summary : convincing ryuji of doing the opposite of what he’s set out to do is a pointless task, yet you will attempt if it gives him even one more day.

— warnings : blood, mentions of violence, some swearing, mentions of imagining of death, angst

notes : inspired by a prompt from here .. i had to do a self indulgent thingy for tumblr .. because why did they have to kill him off like that .. i tried to be dramatic as i possibly could

" none of this would've happened if you had just listened! "

A muffled silence drowns your hearing, the spinning of the Earth decelerates until it feels little more than a crawl with a weak grip. Rough cement scrapes the smoothness of your knee, leaving an angry blemish as grit fights to find its way into your bleeding wounds. No graze can pull you out of the deep end your heart finds itself fighting to stay above of, as you witness your worst fear painted perfectly on a canvas steeped in blood. The stillness of the air leaves you feeling flustered as your mind tries to make sense of what it observes before it, hoping that it’s no more than a deceptive trick played on itself by the fear you felt as you made your way up the tall structure.

A romantic thread of words have never failed in supply, but words left unsaid threaten to crush you under their weight, lost moments to time. A shudder of a breath shakily is let out, the cold air kick starts your body as you push yourself up and scramble to where the battered and bloodied body of Ryuji lays, almost motionless in pain. A childish cry to wake up from this nightmare is all you can think of, but reality does not bend to the whims of humanity, it continues with the path it has set. Resentfully, you can see the similarity that it shares with the male.

“ none of this would've happened if you had just listened! “ A broken cry full of fiery misery lick at the delicate snowflakes that descend from the heavens with a short lived grace, full of threats to burn as they penetrate your space.

The shock of the vibrancy of the liquid that escapes Ryuji leaves time standing still, you care not however, your fingertips gripping a heavy shoulder as the other lends a gentle touch to his cheek. Pain and grief masks itself as anger. You sorely wish to blame someone or something, but you had warned him.. You’d tried to reason with him that this course he’d set would leave him chasing an unattainable taste of sweetness of satisfaction that would dull with each day that dawns. A strong will that had left you in an addictive awe leaves you with a decaying taste in your mouth now, it creates an impossible amount of scars on your soul.

“ ‘Guess I should’a listened to ‘ya after all. “ He reluctantly answers, the humour unable to battle the drain out of his voice completely.

“ Why couldn’t you have just let this lie? “ A ticking pulls your attention away for a fraction of a passing second, a groan causes you to turn back.

“ Was always gonna end this way. “

A weakened grip that belongs to Ryuji ignores the resistance from his body, enduring the pain from the movement in order to experience skin against skin contact for himself once more. He wishes he could have found it within himself to have turned left, but he’d have lost himself without this self imposed purpose, fading into the background. It was selfish, to bring you into his world.. But to him? You’re an unfinished book, your words inked with glittering star dust that etch themselves into existence. He was unable to tear him away from your pages that you may have worn like wings. Selfish. To know how his story would end, yet knowing he would not be around for yours.

“ No. “ Your lips close, pushing against each other to numb the other, your features twisting into an aching grimace.

“ Can’t stop it now. “ he insists, brows drawing together as he scrunches his eyes up from the agony that throbs through every inch of flesh. “ Shit’s set in stone now. “

“ Stop it! “ You sob, hating how vulnerable you sound.

There is a sorrowful beauty in the scene, notes Ryuji. Pale beams of moonlight triumphant until the point of reaching your body that blocks it. Leaving no more than a radiant glow surrounding your head, providing an inhuman glow that illuminates your body as much as your soul — a wistful image that he’s glad to witness once more. Your being here is something of a majestic collision into a door to his person he’d fought to keep locked, if this is a departing gift he would gladly take it. He’d thought the last time he saw you would be when he unwillingly shared his plan, should this ending occur, he could take comfort in there not being a picture of you waiting at the door waiting for the other half of you to walk through the door, only to be met with a crushing realisation of never seeing him again. Only, he’d not expected you to follow in his tracks, not after he’s ignored your pleas of turning away from this path.

“ Ya better get outta here, ‘place is gonna blow soon. “

“ Not without you. “ you argue, refusing his direction — your grip strengthens ever so slightly, fearing the winter breeze has the power to boldly grow and tear you away from the man.

“ Ya got’a whole life ahead of ya. “ A twist of his heart is the dominant sensation he notices at the thought.

He wishes he could be there for it, to see the petals of your success bloom in the depths of your determination. One thing he could never understand was how, despite the tainted reputation that follows him like a shadow, never had been enough to put you off. Not a criminal tie to your name and you voluntarily merged your time and energy with his, with little care. Perhaps that’s where an addiction to his selfishness began. All his life and his Yakuza connections secluded him from genuine human connections and you’d trampled all over that with your impartial view. Many would prefer to cower in their fear, you’d scratched past the surface to see who he could be capable of being.

All the time spent together, and yet he still craves more. To linger in your orbit, time is his nemesis — for he still feels as if there has not been enough. Not the hours spent with the sun setting and you’re there by his side, when he’d spent more time committing the wonder at such a simple thing to his memory. Not the darkened hours spent together surrounded by silken sheets, and all that graced his ears was a musical symphony of breathy moans as you set about learning each other’s bodies. Never were the hours spent talking in order to hear the passion in your voice when speaking about something that interests you enough for him.

“ You can’t do this. “ You whimper softly, almost looking through the man you hold close. “ You can’t come into someone’s life, you can’t make them care about you and leave just because you want to. What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to sit by and let you do this? “

He says nothing, leaving space for a groan of pain to leave his lips as he tips his head back. He’s met with a darkened blanket where millions of stars are scattered so ungracefully, yet do not collide an uncoordinated dance across the sky. Uncertainty overwhelms him, over that is causing more pain — the wounds or the grief in your every word.

“ Just get the fuck outta here already. “ His voice echoes across the large space as he turns his attention back to you.

“ Were you lying all that time? “ You ask with a trembling lip at the thought of being without.

It feels like an endless amount of early mornings had been spent planning and chattering about the most random things. Your mind lighting up with the power of a thousand suns before the world had awoken around you. You can’t pinpoint the moment it happened, but the two of you awoke a little earlier than necessary to bathe in the image of the other — to forge a most perfect illusion of normalcy before stepping out into the real world. Mornings were not your most happiest bedfellow, yet you’d grown to love them just a little more when waking to the most simplest treat to sweeten your tongue.

“ What ya on about? “

“ All that time when we were talking, about what we were going to do? What we could do? ”

“ Why ya going on about that ? “ He asks curiously, eyeing you as you speak.

“ If you die, how are we meant to do any of it? “ Your words are rushed as you question him plainly.

“ Yer gonna .. just won’t be with me. “ Colour from the world feels as if it’s fading, merging into one bland monochrome depiction of a bright, bubbling city.

“ Can you stop?! “ A frustrated shriek tears from the bottom of your throat in response. “ I’m done talking in circles, I’m not dying here and neither are you. If I have to, I will drag you out with me. “

The world pauses in shock for a quiet fraction of a minute. To be spoken to in such a manner is not something Ryuji has experienced much in his life, even rarer by you — words that fell from your lips are always bathed in the sweetness of sugar, not an ounce of poison to anyone. Even the individuals who drew your temper out of its sleep were met with an incredible amount of restraint, he can hear the desperation — acting as a bucket of ice water to shock his nerve endings from the low temperature.

“ You did what you had to do. It wasn’t meant to be, but you can find another purpose. Build something else with your life, just.. Just come with me. Please. “

To be responsible for dragging you down with him, away from providing the world with your bright rays of sunshine in the bland day to day lives of everyone you came into contact with weighs heavily on his chest. Extra time spent with you, perhaps getting to know who his little sister has become are the treats tied onto a stick in front of him, life’s cruel bribe. He’d imagined how his ending would have been sketched by above, yet to have ties keeping him there had not been what he would have included. If he couldn’t be the one dragon, this would be a consolation prize that would allow for the petals of peace to bloom before he’d tear them down once more.

A strength he’d thought abandoned him glows with a dull hue, for a minute, he contemplates using that for Kiryu. Yet the other half of his soul wins the battle, a hand of his reaches out to push himself off from the concrete. It’s not an easy feat after being battered more than once, yet it’s not half as arduous as it could be with you supporting his weight — he’s fully aware how much of your strength he is using from your audible gasps of air.

“ Ya don’t gotta yell at me. “ he complains softly as he grips his side with as much force as he can dedicate to.

“ I don’t think it’s the time for this. “ You argue back quickly.

“ The red one. “

“ Huh? “ The sound escapes you as your features turn into a frown over how to get away from the ticking time bomb fast enough.

“ The lift, to get down. Press th’red one. “ He instructs you with a finger barely lifted, pointing in the direction of the button behind you.

You say nothing in response, the wheels in your mind working faster than your body as it moves purely on an instinctive reaction when receiving messages from your brain. Your stomach twists and turns from the descent to below, unable to process the way the city shifts into a state of obscurity from the swift movement. It would be a beautiful sight if it hadn’t attached a violent night as a parting gift.

“ You really scared me up there. “ You confess with barely a whisper. “ Can you promise me something? “

“ What’s that? “

“ That you won’t do something like this again. “ You say, with your heart hoping that he’d shy away from an impossible task should it present itself. Your eyes had seen enough hurt for one night, you’re confident you’d not be able to withstand it once more.

“ Wish I could. “

Teeth grind against the bottom of your lip, you should have known that he wouldn’t. Yet you also cannot find the strength to tear yourself away from the fire that burns within him, like a moth to a flame, you find yourself wondering how close you can stand against the heat before you flee from the pain it brings.

#Ryuji Goda x reader #Goda Ryuji x reader #Yakuza imagine #Yakuza fic #if this looks like it has been written in parts between the hours of 9 pm - 12 am #because it has #inspiration comes late

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sirius-archive · 5 years ago

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Heatwave (The Mandalorian x Reader) SMUT

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, rough sex, light choking, dom/sub (Mandalorian dom, Reader sub)

Word count: 🤷🏽‍♀️

Summary: You’re a thief with sexy fire powers. He’s a sexy bounty hunter who you’ve been playing cat and mouse with. When he catches you, Baby Yoda decides to play match-maker. It works. For once.

A/N: I found this baby after scrolling through my notes and had to post it. I wrote this when I was drunk so forgive the spelling errors. Baby Yoda is literally that one criminal dude from tangled (I think?) who bangs the two tiny wooden horses together. lol.

Also, am I wrong in saying that I think everyone wants to fuck the Mandalorian in his sexy Mandalorian armour?

(Not my gif)

***

You can’t deny that there’s something sexy about being handcuffed and taken prisoner by the Mandalorian.

While inconvenient to say the least, there’s still an undercurrent of sexual tension that demands to be felt, charging the air between the two of you as he straps you into the seat beside him. It’s why he always chases you, why you always allow yourself to get caught, and why he lets you escape into the night. It’s the longest, most amusing, most sexy game of chess you’ve ever played.

“Every time you handcuff me, I always imagine it in an entirely different context,” you purr, smirking up at him as he tightens your handcuffs.

As usual, he doesn’t say anything at first. Its becoming all too predictable.

The fancy, expensive, definitely-not-a-sex-toy handcuffs dig into the skin of your wrists, though not enough to make it arousing. He’s done it deliberately; he’s surmised you like it rough from your previous encounters with him. It’s a type of torture he’s managed to master exceedingly well. Which is arousing in itself. What a paradox the two of you are.

“Jokes on you, y’know,” you tease, tilting your head up at him, “I’m very much into the idea of you torturing me.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he warns, his voice tinny and deliciously husky.

“So he speaks.”

The Mandalorian remains silent, though you can somehow tell he’s glaring at you from behind his helmet.

“You’re not the first Mandalorian to come after me,” you say as he kneels to bind your ankles, “And you won’t be the last. I’ve killed your predecessors and I won’t hesitate to kill whoever they decide to send after you. You’re lucky I’m into you otherwise I’d have my legs around your neck right now — and not in a good way.”

The Mandalorian is silent at first. Then, when you think he isn’t going to grace you with a response—

“So you’re just going to keep running? What kind of life is that?”

You chew your bottom lip, considering his question thoughtfully, “It’s a life and it’s far better than the alternative.”

The Mandalorian rises, straightens the broad line of his shoulders, “Is it really a life? If you can’t settle down to enjoy it?”

You gracefully arch an eyebrow at him, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mandalorian.”

He doesn’t say anything after that.

****

The strange, tiny child gazes up at you with large, innocent inky-black eyes and blinks owlishly.

He’s managed to scramble into your lap, blocking your means of escape while the Mandalorian hastily fixes the engine of his ship. You can’t help but smile at his innocence, contrasting the weight of your criminal ways.

Regardless, you focus on funnelling the spluttering ball of energy in your core to your ankle cuffs. The heated metal bites into your skin as it begins to glow bright orange, but you can take it. You’re one of the last Phoenixs — or Nixes, for short — in the universe; cosmic fire and heat is what you are, what you’re made of.

The child, however, doesn’t seem afraid of the heat rising from your skin, turning your hair a bright, fiery red.

“Look, little guy — or girl — I need you to get off my lap so I can bust out of here!” You hiss, imploringly, “My distraction will only last so lo—“

The Mandalorian’s heavy footsteps echo into the cockpit of his ship. You immediately stop melting the metal, allowing your natural hair colour to bleed over the reds and oranges, disguising your true heritage.

He stops, spotting the child now stroking your hair.

“He’s cute,” you remark, beaming down at the child, “Didn’t realise you had a kid.”

The Mandalorian marches forward and snatches the child from your lap. He cradles him protectively, eying you with what you suspect is suspicion as he safely places the child on the far side of the room.

“Don’t touch him.”

“He was touching me first.”

“I don’t care, don’t touch him.”

“My god, you’d think I’m infected with some hideous, flesh-eating disease.”

“No, you’re a criminal—“

“—Thief—“

“—you’re a criminal and I don’t trust you.”

Something about that stings. Your expression shutters, schooling into apathy.

“So why keep me around?” You ask, coolly, “Why don’t you just carbon freeze me?”

You have a feeling you know the answer. He doesn’t carbon freeze you for the same reason why he doesn’t bother stopping you as you escape the slippery clutches of the ego-bruised men you’ve stolen from. It’s the same reason you haven’t burned him to a crisp as soon as you’ve seen him, the same reason you allow him to drag you back to his ship, cash you in for his bounty, and disappear.

There’s tension, but it’s more than tension. It’s something you can’t articulate because you’ve never quite felt it before. You doubt he has either.

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer. He seems to be staring down at the ankle cuffs, the metal twisted and deformed from where you’ve been heating it. He steps forward—

Suddenly, an invisible force loop around your waist and hoists you up, pulling you toward The Mandalorian. His arms are forced around your waist in jerky movements almost like an invisible puppeteer is pushing and plucking the strings. His helmet is yanked up over his neck, past his chin, stopping just above his nose, revealing plush lips and stubble and—

Your lips are forced together in the most awkward kiss you’ve ever had.

Both of you have your lips pressed tight, and the Mandalorian is rigid and tense, unsure of what to do. Still, energy blinks to life inside of you and you open your mouth just a little, embracing the kiss.

It lingers. It’s still awkward.

But then, he begins to kiss you back, his lips moving slightly, carefully, enough to taste hints of fine whiskey and your head begins to spin, embers sparking your lower belly, travelling up your spine, across your chest, down your arms—

It ends all too soon.

“Stop it, let us go,” The Mandalorian orders over his shoulder. You allow your eyes to follow his line of sight, snagging on the kid.

His tiny, pudgy hand is raised, his round eyes closed and you realise with a shock that he’s controlling you, bending the air around you both and forcing you into this kiss.

At the sound of his voice, the child stops, releasing his hold on you. He staggers a little, exhaustion seemingly crashing over him, dragging him under into unconsciousness. He collapses and the Mandalorian rushes forward to catch him, holding the child to his chest.

The Mandalorian disappears for a moment, giving you time to recover from your bewilderment. You’ve never seen anything quite like that before, and you’ve seen a lot of things. You have a feeling that in your past life, you may have witnessed a similar phenomenon, but you’re not giving enough time to dwell on it, however, because the Mandalorian comes storming back.

“So, you gonna tell me what that was all about?”

The Mandalorian ignores you, hunting around the cockpit for something.

“You’re not going to make me beg, are you?”

The Mandalorian stops, slants a look over his shoulder, “Maybe I will.”

You roll your eyes, “Please, Mando. Please tell me what the fuck just happened.”

The Mandalorian grasps a black bandage and whips it, stalking toward you, “Not what I meant.”

“What—?”

“—I’m sick of chasing you,” he growls, manoeuvring you around so he can fasten the bandage around your head; a makeshift blindfold, “It’s time you got what you deserve.”

Your stomach curdles, blood roaring in your ears. Carbon freezing. Your worst fear. You try to swallow, but it gets knotted somewhere in your throat.

“Kinky,” you rasp, trying your best to recover your slipping facade, “I hope my punishment involves whips and chains.”

The Mandalorians voice is in the shell of your ear, Mississippi hot and molasses thick, “Oh, you have no idea.”

Suddenly, he spins you around, and you barely have time to recover from the whiplash before his lips are on yours.

He’s ferocious, unforgiving. Just the way you like it.

He kisses you with a fiery passion, tongue darting into your mouth, tasting, teasing, his teeth digging into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. You moan, arching against him, wishing he’d free you so you could tug him closer but the Mandalorian keeps you bound and at his mercy.

You pull away, panting, as the Mandalorian trails kisses down your neck, sucking and biting and bruising the tender flesh. He’s obviously taken his helmet off while you were blindfolded. Curiosity strikes you but is dissolved when he finds the spot on your neck that makes you gasp.

“If—if I had known this would happen, I would’ve allowed myself to get caught a lot sooner,” you tease, a little breathlessly.

The Mandalorians fingers grasp your waist, pulling you closer, gripping you with bruising strength that dampens your panties. He chuckles against your skin, breath hot, tongue wet as he licks along your jugular.

“God I hate that mouth of yours,” he breathes, scraping his teeth across your skin, “It gets you into so much trouble.”

“It’s good for other things, too.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he grasps your waist with strong hands and spins you around, breath fanning across the back of your neck.

Your spine shudders and melts. He makes quick work of your clothes, starting with your sleeveless turtleneck top. He pulls it over your head and tosses it aside and unclasping your bra. With one hand pawing at your breast, he uses the other to tug on the zip of your skirt, pulling it down until the fabric pools at your feet. He helps you out of your thigh-high boots and undoes the holsters strapped to your thigh. Next, he uncuffs your wrists and ankles until you’re wearing nothing but skin. His breath audibly tangles in his throat.

You snicker, biting your bottom lip, “My, my. Have I rendered the great Mandalorian speechless?”

A sharp stab of pain ripples across your ass cheek, followed by the rough ministrations of a strong, calloused hand. You gasp, relishing in the sting of pain and burst of arousal.

You moan. Your darkest fantasies have spilt from your daydreams and splashed themselves against the backdrop of reality. Finally, after three years of chasing and catching, the sexual tension sizzling between the two of you is resolved.

He steals the breath from your lungs as he kisses you deeply, your moans melting on his tongue. His fingers grip your breasts and you gasp, head lulling back as he rolls them in the palm of his hands.

“God,” you sigh, “You’re good at this.”

Suddenly, his lips are biting into your nipple and you arch into his mouth, fingers combing through his hair as he slurps and sucks on your nipple. Your thighs quiver as you tug on the roots of his hair and he groans. You can feel him poking into your thigh and your excitement builds quickly, your fingers pulling at his cape.

He steps away from your grasp with a low, drawling chuckle, rich with husk and desire and pure sex appeal.

“I’m in control,” he snarls, “You obey me. You hear?”

“Yes, master,” you whimper, skin crawling.

“Good.”

You hear the rasping of fabric and the whirr of zipper teeth being pulled apart. His footsteps, heavy with purpose, move around you; there's a clang of metal and then he’s behind you again, loosening your blindfold until it falls away.

The Mandalorian whirls you around, pushing you up against the control board. He’s still fully clothed and his helmet is now fixed onto his neck and while you had been curious about the face that hides behind that helmet, you can’t deny that the thought of him fucking you in his bounty armour is unbelievably sexy.

The only thing that’s missing is — of course — the codpiece. Your shiver completely rattles your entire frame, anticipation bubbling deliciously in your veins.

The Mandalorian steps forward and reaches into his pants, pulling out his cock.

You salivate.

He’s...huge. Probably the biggest and thickest cock you’ve seen (and you’ve seen a lot in your lifetime — part of the job). It makes you wonder how he jams that beast into his pants without damaging something. You slide your tongue over your lips as you watch him stroke himself, smearing precum over the bulging, purple helmet.

“Touch yourself.”

You obey, spreading your legs far apart so he can watch your fingers dance. Behind his mask, you can feel his eyes smouldering as you tease your clit, rubbing the pearl of nerves with your index and middle finger. You moan, tossing your head back, building up quite the rhythm while the Mandalorian watches.

You startled slightly when the Mandalorian runs his hands over your smooth thighs, mapping you out with his fingers. He’s gentle, appreciating the warmth of your skin, how you glow with desire and emit a natural, golden aura common among Nixes.

“It’s been a while since...” he trails off, shaking his head.

With a sudden burst of strength, he grips your legs and hoists them around his waist. And, impatiently, unceremoniously, he slides inside of you.

“Fuck,” you curse, gripping his broad shoulders.

Moans spill into the air as the Mandalorian begins to move, rolling his hips against you. The cool metal of his armour shocks your hot skin but the contrast of steaming heat and icy cold makes your eyes roll back and your heart hammer impossibly fast.

“Yes, yes, oh Jesus yes!”

The Mandalorian’s pace begins to build as he slams into you. He’s rough and unapologetic and reaching depths inside of you that you didn’t know existed. He pounded with frenzied, sharp movements, his hand snaking up your side to your neck where his fingers hugged and tightened. His other hand stays secured on your hip, bruised already starting to form from where his grip burns into you.

Your fingers skim across your damp skin, trailing down to your clit where your fingers circle and pinch. The Mandalorian — silent until now — groans as he watches you, his pace speeding up ruthlessly.

“I’m close,” he grunts, giving your neck a squeeze.

“So am I,” you hiss, locking your legs around him.

The friction of his armour against your hot skin, the pressure of his strong hand gripping your begging neck, his cock ploughing into you with incredible strength; it’s an overwhelming indulgence to the senses and you feel your hot core begin to glow, crackling with cosmic energy.

The air, thick with sex and insatiable heat, shimmers and ignites with tiny tongues of fire like hovering fireflies. The Mandalorian hasn’t noticed yet, but it doesn’t take him long until he does.

“(Y/N)––“

He’s cut off by the cry that issues from your swollen lips. Your pussy clenches and quivers around his cock as you tumble over the edge, crashing into a release that completely drowns your body in mind-numbing pleasure. The Mandalorian is right behind you, grinding out pieces of your name as he meets his own release.

Panting, you sit up and he rests his head on your shoulder. Around you, the small flames have exploded into tiny fireworks, lighting up the air with vibrant light.

You slide off the control board, climb back into your clothes and pull on your boot. You reach for the other boot but the Mandalorian grabs it first, kneeling to slide the boot onto your foot. You watch, mesmerised, as he pulls the inner zip up your leg and along your thigh.

Moments later, the electronic doors to the cockpit slide open and the child waddles forward, gazing innocently up at you. You step forward and give the Mandalorian a questioning look. He nods.

You bend down and scoop the child into your arms and he snuggles against your chest.

“I really love this kid,” you murmur, beaming down at him.

“Yeah, he’s alright,” The Mandalorian shrugs, approaching you so he can tug at the child’s cloak. He pulls it over the child’s face, keeping his neck warm.

“We have to name him,” you decide, “I can’t keep referring to him as the kid.”

You say it like you’re staying with them, trapesing across the universe together.

The Mandalorian, however, doesn’t disagree.

The handcuffs and ankle cuffs stay in their place on the floor.

#the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #baby yoda #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian imagines #smut #star wars imagine #mandalorian #dad!mandalorian #dom/sub #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian spoilers #star wars smut #star wars fluff #georgie writes

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chocosvt · 4 years ago

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⚬ pairing: demon!minghao x reader ⚬ word count: 3478 ⚬ warnings: blood, bodily injuries, death ⚬ genres: god i don’t even know... angst, unrealized pining and romance, weird tension, reader is just as evil as minghao?

✧✎ synopsis: three-hundred years have passed, and the second son has awoken from his slumber, waiting for a new soul to devour.

✧✎ a/n: this au was many things, and in finality, it morphed into this. usually i have a lot to say in my author’s note but today i bring you nothing! enjoy!

Three-hundred years had passed, and you knew due to the bell tower.

Its reverberations shuddered throughout the town, permeated the density of the smoke curtain which had swallowed the sky for centuries, and vibrated the very oxygen that fluttered in your lungs. It was a calling to check your mailbox, for reaching inside unveiled a folded note. At first, you glanced to your neighbour across the street, to the elderly man who lived on your right, and finally to the pig-tailed girl who’d just celebrated her fifteenth birthday on your left.

Yet they had retrieved nothing from their mailboxes exempt from a soft-spoken prayer, a testament to their gratitude that their lives had been spared. But you—you were the unholy meal.

With a sharp arrowhead of stone pressed to the skin between your shoulder blades, you were forced into the cavernous opening based midway along the mountain. It fed deep into the earth’s heart, and as a watchman pierced the spear’s tip further into your flesh, you began the cold, damp descent that would lead you to a deserved death, a death that could no longer be prevaricated.

After a painful stumbling over jagged flints and pieces of crystal, you emerged into the Blood Room, where three other contenders from the town were already aligned. There was not one look exchanged between either meal; however, you did recognize a specific helix piercing and the russet locks of Joshua, who you recently spotted dragging a body down to the ravine where the forest waterfall bubbled. Still, despite Joshua’s inept piousness, you knew he was not a meal worth being served.

A watchman approached you with a pocketknife. Splaying out your fingers, you observed calmly as he created a small incision against a distinct line travelling the length of your palm. As the dark, crimson fluid leaked from the wound, it was then collected in a glass dropper. Each watchman approached a scroll which hung from the stone. A drop of Joshua’s blood was tested first. It rolled about halfway down the sallow paper, which was impressive to say the least, indicative of even the boy’s worst transgressions.

The next possible meal had their sample beaded onto the scroll, though it had soaked up rather quickly, even before Joshua’s, and you knew their sins were pitiful and their soul was much too pentant. Similarly, the blood of the other meal drew short. You couldn’t help but think the contenders were quite pathetic.

At last the glass dropper containing your blood was being set against the paper. A slight squeeze, and the liquid bulb started its trickling. It streamed down boldly, leaving in its wake a luminous red tint that outshined even Joshua’s viscid plasma. You watched the bulb surpass one meal, then glide past the second meal, and just as you anticipated, the droplet rolled to the very end of the scroll. In fact, it began dripping onto the dust of the icy floor.

“The test concludes.” A watchman rumbled, his voice bouncing against the rock. His spear pointed toward you criminally. “Your blood runs the thickest and your heart beats the slowest. You are the unholy meal. The second son has awoken from this three-hundred-year slumber, and it is your soul he will devour so that he may be appeased and tire.”

You fought to keep an emotionless, flat face.

“Feed him well, for the weight of your blood carries more sin than purity.”

Briskly, the latter three contenders were swept away.

Joshua may have thrown his first corpse into the waterfall and watched it gush like a leaf down the black ravine, but his single body could not compare to the hundred that you’d left to float for years.

The bare bottoms of your feet were engrained with shallow cuts and stained by the powder to the numbing stone. You had not eaten or drank for over forty-eight hours, and your strength, which could often be as robust as great titanium, had seemingly dwindled to an emaciated, dried flower.

From the tales your mother relayed amongst your youth, you knew it was important to not make a face in the presence of the second son. Unlike his older brother, Jun, who would only be appeased by a meal who smiled and flaunted their guilt, Minghao chiefly adored a meal who showed no more emotion than the limestone tumbled along the mountainside. It was best to please the Demon Sons before they untied your soul from its fleshy bindings and swallowed it whole.

Or else in their next awakening, they might demand a meal of the entire village.

Minghao gestured to the garnet-coloured mat which had been lain across his bedroom floor. There were bowls of flavourful rice, steaming, clay pots filled with different soups, plates warmed by sliced bread and tin cups almost overflowing due to the plentiful wine inside.

“Hungry?” He asked, to which his soft, wispy voice was rather surprising.

Your countenance remained blank, unmoving, apart from your mouth. “Yes, I am starved.”

“Sit,” the second son invited, “I want you to be satiated and full, until you feel sleepy.”

Heeding his order, you sat cross-legged on the side of the mat opposite to the demon. His robe, embroidered with ruby lace, rippled behind his feet when he walked, and the collar’s diamond shape revealed underworldly markings which drew attention to the pale expanse of his chest. Even through the material cloaking his arms, you could faintly decipher the kohled tattoos. You had even recognized the familiar symbols chiselled into the walls during your trek to the demon’s chamber. When Minghao took his seat, he grabbed one of the black horns curling from his hair and dug his thumb into the pointed end.

“They are becoming weak,” he admitted, “I’m sure my brother’s wings are close to shattering from his broad shoulders. I’m sure the nerves are peeling and laughably brittle.” Minghao reached for a bowl, using wood chopsticks to fish the orange, tangy rice into his mouth. “You know, as first born, he is granted those wings. It’s his rite.” He lowered the bowl, a faded grin crossing his lips. “I remember, he used to embellish them with the bones of his meals, hanging their cervicals and metacarpals and pieces of their skull across each wing like a charm bracelet. But myself? It is not my meals’ bones that I save.” He shook his head, picking up another sticky rice ball.

Suddenly, the demon paused. “Are you not going to eat?”

It was difficult to speak when the interior of your mouth felt coated with chalk. Inclined by fear rather than your hunger, you reached for a bread loaf, then broke its golden crust in half, listening to the satisfactory crackle.

“I was absorbed by your pretty voice,” you spoke with not a single intonation, “forgive me.”

As you tore a piece from the warm inside and poked it into your cheek, the pottery bowl which he held broke into pieces due to the crushing grip of his hand, orange rice and clay shards spilling onto the mat. You had visibly flinched. The demon’s body trembled as he inhaled a slow, subdue breath.

“Dearest, if you ask me to lend my forgiveness, I will pierce a stake through your beating heart and pull it out onto my plate.” His teeth were claws in his mouth as he growled. “Do you understand?”

You hid your quivering, bottom lip by bringing a tin cup to your face, the slick formula of the wine flowing down your throat. It was thicker than the wine you drank at home, and there was a copper-like aftertaste that almost rendered your expression to pucker, but you remembered to keep staid.

“I understand.”

The void, starless nature to his gaze disappeared. Instead, his eyes returned to their settled oak. Allowing more wine to soak against your tongue, there was a distant familiarity to its unique flavour.

“Are there things you regret?” Minghao retrieved you from musing, and spooned some rosemary soup into his mouth.

Once more, you took another sip, swished the alcohol between your cheeks, and swallowed. The demon observed you with an intent eye. Something flashed against your memory. It was a pale face drained of its pink and lively colour. In fact, it was your husband’s face, Soonyoung’s face, right before you tipped his body over the ravine’s misty edge and into the gurgling chasm below.

He had been your last murder.

“I regret…” You began, lowering the wine, “I-I regret…”

A stutter. An emotion. An inkling of your distress.

Minghao’s grasp around the soup pot tightened and the tattoos needled into his flesh seemed to slither as though they’d been disturbed. Your mind grew stifled with obnoxious imagery. It was too much, all at once, and this dizziness spun at the centre of your cranium like a comet in orbit.

You leaned further over the wine, staring blurry at the liquid.

“I regret… I r-regret…”

Then it came to you, the underlying taste of the wine. So familiar because you should have known it better than anyone, especially considering your habitual dirty work, how often that fluid caked under your fingernails and spattered your clothing. No, it was definitely not the bones Minghao kept.

A moment later and you fainted onto the mat.

You awoke to a damp coolness folded against your forehead, and to Minghao who sat at the edge of his bed, where he had rested for three-hundred years. He removed the cloth and began dabbing it along each arch of your cheek, cleaned your jaw’s long edge, and at last wet your lips until they gleamed. Expelling a subtle breath, you kept your face as blank as possible.

“How do you feel?” He set away the cloth in order to sweep his sleight fingers down your temple.

“I’m well,” sounded your meek voice, “you have taken care of me.”

In between the black fringe that feathered the demon’s lashes, you met his eyes. Minghao’s hand slid to your throat, where his palm pressed flat against its column and his fingers curled taut with the sensation of hot steel.

He felt you gulp.

“I implore that you bathe. Rid yourself of this fabric which has been stained by wine and broth. I will leave you undergarments and a robe.” He leaned in closer to your face, and you couldn’t help but glance at his jagged teeth when he said so adoringly, “my wish is to paint you. I would like clean flesh.”

Clad in nothing but the undergarments, Minghao stood before your body, holding a wooden bowl. The inside was smeared with a rustic-coloured substance that almost bore the same consistency as honey. His chosen brush had fanned bristles, and when he stroked their wetness along your skin, it was a smooth, somewhat ticklish feeling. You found yourself enjoying it. Specifically the longer strokes, ones that began at the top of your shoulder and licked across the soft underbelly of your arm, only to gently flit away at the brittle bones in your wrist.

He decorated you in content.

As the boy lowered to his knees and illustrated unintelligible runes against your inner thigh, he was focused, sharp. Another dip into the wooden bowl, and Minghao moved to paint your other thigh. You examined the horns pushing between his hair. Without thought, you stroked your hand against one, feeling the small grooves that created every divot. The demon never stirred, but continued to paint down your leg, and you wondered if he truly hadn’t noticed your touch or perhaps quite liked the way you caressed him.

Despite the fact you were merely prey being toyed with until dinner time, when you looked at the demon who touched your skin and treated you with such reverence, you felt this unbeknownst tenderness in your heart.

As Minghao instructed you to raise a foot, he immediately stiffened.

“What is it?” You questioned flatly.

He set the bowl and brush down.

“Dearest, the soles of your feet are cut and raw. It appears worse than usual.”

You wobbled slightly, almost losing your balance. “I was shown no kindness on my journey to meet with you. Because I am your meal, I can ignore the stinging.”

“No,” Minghao shook his head and rose up, “I will wrap your feet in precious calendula leaves. The paint will dry quickly, then you can sit.”

“If I may ask one thing,” you remarked, fiddling with the sleeves of your robe, “how painful is it to have your soul devoured?”

Minghao plucked the last few calendula leaves from their flowers. The petals were rather striking, the aurora of a setting sun as you mother always described. It had been a longtime wish to see the sun one day, though considering your fate, such a dream must remain only that. The leaves swathed each foot with the help of a clear, sticky gel.

“Very painful.” The demon responded. He shifted next to you on the bed, then grabbed one of the orange flowers. “This is why we sleep so far beneath the crust, so the people do not hear the meal’s delicious screams.” He grasped your hand which had suffered a slit from the watchman’s pocketknife, and he began to rub a flower bud across the wound.

“Do you remember your last meal?” You asked, staring at Minghao rather than the skin’s miraculous healing.

The demon looked straight into your eyes as he grinned. “I do remember,” he sounded wistful, “it had been three meals, since the man I consumed in an even further past had greatly upset me.” Minghao dropped the flower, slowly interlaced his fingers with yours, squeezing.

“I had treated him well. I cleaned his cuts, I allowed him to bathe, I offered him my finest silk, and then, when we ate, I asked him what he regretted.” His hand became colder than ice. Minghao’s eyes started to widen, illuminate with a shiny madness, and when he leaned in closer your every facial muscle was begging to twitch. “He cried to me. Can you believe it? I had never been so upset. It caused me to fill with rage. He wept for forgiveness, absolution, a relief from his pain. Who am I, but a being who takes pain like a supplement? In that moment, I leapt across the dinner table and devoured him. His soul tasted like salt and alloy. I could not eat his heart, which was given to my brother. He will always eat the heart, because it so plumped full of your terrible emotion.”

The demon’s hand fit to the side of your neck, his thumb stroking along a particular vein where your pulse was thundering. “Well,” he sighed, “not your terrible emotion, but most peoples.”

In that moment, you took your deepest breath, and did not respond until you were certain that not one note of your voice would tremble. “I understand.” You placed your hand overtop the demon’s as it continued to cradle your neck, “did you paint this man too?”

“No,” Minghao shook his head, “I use my paints sparingly.”

With a soft fingertip, he began to trace a thin line he had brushed. It started at your jaw, then fell down the length of your warm neck. It dragged across your collarbone and in between your chest. Over the ribs, to your stern hip. The fingertip circled sweetly against your inner thigh a few times, and at last glided to your knee where the demon’s touch drifted away like a summer breeze.

“You are the most beautiful meal I have ever seen,” Minghao murmured, holding your gaze which threatened to water, “I was delighted to accent a body like yours, so gorgeous and strengthened by sin.”

Since your arrival at the demon’s bedroom, you knew it was vital to preserve a blank face, and yet, it came to a point where you could not restrict the whims of your emotion. A tear bled from your eye, your bottom lip started to quiver, and your brow pinched together in a wrinkle. There was fear to your gradual outbreak, but it was an infinitesimal fraction compared to your gratitude, that the second son could somehow honour you more than your own unfaithful husband, who’d been your last body discarded into the ravine.

In reality, how different were you to this demon? Year after year, the suppleness of your heart became hardened with immorality, pummelled of its empathy and completely wrung from compassion like a soaked, heavy towel. A common routine: dragging a corpse through the wildlife, your lips pursed and whistling the tune you’d overhear the pig-tailed girl humming on her front lawn. Dump the body. Return home. Peel an apple, bake a pie, and feed a slice to your next victim, watching the froth dribble from their lips as you sipped your drink and folded a leg over your thigh. But that was life under the cinder sky. It’s what kept people mad, what kept the demons fed. Either flee or have the light of your being rubbed into another dark ash.

The demon immediately turned rigid.

His spine bristled straight and the tattoos started to crawl beneath his robe, rustling like serpents who navigated the tall grass. You figured your death would be the most painful, since you had not only broken at the last minute, but soiled the significance to Minghao’s paints, casted the illusion that you were not appreciative of his gestures. In a snapping wrench, he practically tore you from the velvet blanket, dragging you to a door in his bedroom.

When it was opened, a frigid wind dusted at your face, and a slender corridor was revealed, stretching so far that it led into complete blackness. With a hand against your lower back, Minghao shoved you into the tunnel.

“Go,” he demanded, his words echoing off the stone, “go and do not turn back.”

Your voice was breathy, confused, “I don’t understand. I-I—”

“It leads to an opening at the opposite side of the mountain. You will leave, and you will never-” he gripped your chin, and his gaze intruded even the most clandestine pockets to your soul, “ever return to this town. Escape these cinder skies. I will not repeat myself.”

Before you could make sense of anything, before the door could be slammed in your face, your solace left to the rock and damp air, you slipped a hand around the demon’s neck and kissed him. His mouth was just as soft as his voice, and when he angled his head to better taste the tears that stained your lips, you felt it would be impossible to make this journey alone. The silk of his tongue brushed inside your mouth, causing your knees to tremble, therefore you gripped weakly at the demon’s hair. His sharp teeth pricked your bottom lip and it welted ever so slightly with blood.

“Come with me,” you begged, pressing your forehead to his, “please, do not go back to sleep.”

But Minghao merely giggled, and the fact that such an innocent sound could leave the chest of a demonic entity had disoriented you.

“What creature are you?” Minghao hummed, “that I can see your emotion and only want to hold you closer? Maybe it is because you are the first meal to bare no regret. You know your flesh is stitched by the sin of your own hand. Even your sweet tears. Oh! My brother would adore you! Though he would’ve devoured you by now no doubt.” He gave a gentle shove, removing you from his body.

“Will you please come find me?” You entreated.

Time was of the essence. The tenebrosity seemed to have a curl on your ligaments, tugging you backward into the tunnel.

Minghao smiled, his hand reaching out to wipe the blood from your sore lip.

“Dearest, I will come find your dark soul anywhere,” sounded his honest purr, “but I suggest you travel hastily. If I leave, I must first wake my brother, and the rage of a demon whose slumber has been interrupted... It cannot be compared to anything. I’m afraid you’ll faint again.”

Trusting that Minghao would seek you out, you began the journey down the tunnel, your hand swiping against the stone and your feet taking calculated steps. Amongst the black air, there was no concept of time. Seconds, minutes, hours, they felt ineffectual in a place where not even your own fingers or toes could be seen. Eventually, you came to a light that burned against your eyes, and emerged at the opposite side of the mountain, like Minghao promised. And as you padded into the jade forest, you felt one final vibration shake the pine needles scattered across the earth, heard some boulders from the mountainside crumble down in swirling, dry dust clouds.

Shuddering, you knew it had been the abhorrent cry of the first born son. And for once your compulsion to escape the grey skies was a real desire.

✧✎ a/n: yes.................... :) thinking that i could also make an au for jun in this universe? i will have to do some Major Thinking. i still have nothing to say! like i don’t know where this au crawled out of, but it’s Here now. it’s pretty morbid n freaky sfeheff but nonetheless i hope you liked it and as always i luv hearing ur guys TH0TS.

#seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #seventeen minghao #minghao scenarios #xu minghao #minghao angst #minghao fluff #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #minghao fanfic

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justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years ago

Text

five times the hermits reassured xb his reputation doesn’t matter to them & one time they didn’t need to

another fic in @martuzzio‘s space outlaw au! this was a bit of an in-between whilst i prepped for a bigger project. this time: exploring xb and his feelings towards his false accusation.

featuring: xb needs hugs, i promise he gets them, me trying to feel out voices, lots of reassuring hermits, they’re a big family okay, xb is Not Okay with his bounty and the effects it causes, but they’re there to help, some cute kids, when you have problems: lie in a pool, its angst with comfort, the usual.

warnings: people are mean, panic attack, minor violence, less minor off-screen violence (mentioned gun violence, no details), low self image, self worth issues, bad decisions made whilst possibly dissociating, i swear its happy at the end.

XB has never been one for public attention. He'd always been happy at his job. He minded his own business, enjoyed the research and helping people. Sometimes he even socialised with his co-workers, though that rarely extended outside of work. He lived a solitary life, away from the public eye, and he was happy with that. He had his lot. He didn't need anything else.

Then the accident happened and his world turned upside down.

Everything he'd built for himself, the comfortable life he'd made, fell apart at his feet. Suddenly he was to blame for the corruption of an entire planet. And he knew- he knew it wasn't really his fault. It was a complete mismanagement, barely even his department! But maybe if he'd paid more attention, worked faster, spoken out-

He can't change things now.

What followed was the most stressful period of his life. He watched as charges stacked up, already convicted in the public opinion. He went on the run, hiding on the half-dead planet and just trying to survive, really. He stopped keeping track of anything else, feeling sick as people demanded his head. His abilities saved him from two assassination attempts. He ran further, hid better.

Until he met the Hermits.

After all this time, he's not quite sure how he ended up joining them. He thought he was dead when he first caught sight of that emblem. This was it. The outside world had finally caught up. Then they helped him. Then he was on their ship. Then Xisuma was asking in a kind voice if he wanted to become one of them. A Hermit.

To tell the truth, if he knew the reaction it'd cause, he wouldn't have agreed. He would have said no, been dropped on a planet with a new identity, and gone on his way into obscurity. Instead, he said yes. He became a Hermit with a capital H. It felt good, at first. To be part of something like that. They had his back, they knew the situation.

The publicity didn't happen immediately. The Hermits were a smaller group back then. It took a short while until the rest of the universe caught up. Even now, he has no idea who first broke the story. One night, he falls asleep, lounging in the pool. In the morning he wakes up to a slander campaign.

Not against him. Against the Hermits. Because of him.

Hermits protecting planet destroyer, Hermits support massacre, Hermits criminal, Hermits, Hermits, Hermits, Him.

Joe is the one who finds him having a panic attack at the bottom of the pool. He's first aware of light touches against his skin, the water swirling in ways he doesn't expect. He opens his eye in a panic, but Joe is already shielding his face. He gestures a thumbs up and it takes all of XB's effort to remember what that means. He nods in a rush, realises Joe can't see that, and tugs him up instead.

They surface together. XB takes a strangled gasp of air, struggling lungs already unhappy. Joe guides him to the side, speaking firm instructions XB doesn't fully process but obeys all the same. Eventually, they sit at the edge of the pool. He can't feel the water around his legs. He can barely feel Joe's hand on his back, rubbing circles. He loses track of time completely.

Joe doesn't leave him.

He waits, his hand and unintelligible words a companion whilst XB fights for air. When XB can make out his counting, he tries to follow Joe's encouragement and take deep breaths. His heartbeat continues racing. He squeezes Joe's free hand tight.

Once he's finally confident enough, he mumbles, "Sorry." Joe makes an audible noise of disagreement. He places something cool in XB's hand. It takes sliding his finger around to realise it's his eye protection.

"Nothing to apologise for," Joe tells him. With his eye controlled, XB can finally see Joe's face. The Hermit is looking at him with a gentle calmness, water dripping from his skin and hair. Without the pounding in his ears, XB can hear them splash against the tiles. "I'm going to go out on one of Cleo's limbs here, and guess you saw the news." XB rubs at one of his fins with a nod.

"I shouldn't have joined you guys."

"I disagree," Joe replies. XB turns away. He kicks his legs just enough to create gentle ripples in the water.

"I've made a right mess of things. For everyone." Joe bloops, leaning onto his hand.

"Hardly more of a mess than before," he tells him. There's no doubt at all in his voice. No anger. "XB, you have to understand we knew what would happen when we took you on. We care about you. Not the opinions of the faceless masses. If we cared about that then we wouldn't get anything done." XB sighs, a drop of water falling from his fin.

"How can you be so calm about this?" He asks. He can't find anything else to say. Joe pats his back lightly.

"In the same way I was calm when False joined." He kicks his feet. "Things will be dramatic. It might feel like the end of the world. But sometimes you just have to trust Xisuma knows what he's doing. And I certainly think he did when he invited you." Joe pushes onto his feet, offering his hand for XB. XB takes it, trying not to use it too much. Joe is sturdy despite that. "This will pass," Joe encourages, "And you will always have a place here."

"That's a pretty bold statement." Joe doesn't let go of XB's hand. He leads them away from the pool, not caring about the trail of water as they go.

"And yet it's a true one." XB chooses to focus on the ground instead. He's...

He'll get back to Joe on that one.

It's not often XB leaves the ship. He has one of the higher bounties out of all of them. Close to False's, and she actually deserves her's. He was terrified of her until she patiently taught him how to handle weapons, not once becoming frustrated as he struggled. She's still terrifying, but at least she's on his side.

Keralis was the one who pestered him out this time. The promise of buying extra fruit had tempted him into the supply run. He just needed a partner in crime (no leaving the ship without one) and pretty please, XB, pretty please?

So now XB is stood in the middle of a store, scanning the shelves and checking his half of the shopping list. He worries his lip, standing and catching a woman staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He continues searching, but her stare doesn't let up. He finally turns.

"Um, excuse me?" He asks, tilting his head in genuine concern. "Are you-" He doesn't expect her to surge forward, fury written on her face.

"If you weren't with those filthy Hermits I'd have you." The woman shoves his chest, forcing his back against the shelves. He blinks, fins flicking in defence.

"Wha-?"

"You go and you murder an entire planet. Don't show a bit of remorse. Then you run and hide behind them like a coward." XB can feel eyes on him now, the entire store falling silent at the exchange. He thinks he might be trembling. He can't quite tell. The woman is up in his face. His hand itches to take his eye protection off, gently put her to sleep and run. But there's witnesses, there's so many people and- "Maybe I should just do it right now. Consequences be damned." Her fingernails scratch into his armour, and he nearly falls as she pulls him forward.

"Oh, wow wow wow wow wow, ma'am." XB has never been more relieved to see Keralis. He steps in between them, blocking her from taking XB any further. "Could you unhand my friend, please? You're not being very nice." To XB's horror, she doesn't, nearly dragging him into Keralis as she gestures.

"What authority do you have?" She demands. "Defending a murderer like this, you should be ashamed of yourself." Keralis holds his hands up, ears twitching very slightly.

"XB is a perfectly good person. No murderer in him. And we'd like to leave, please." There's a threatening hint to Keralis's usually bright tone. The hand around his arm is finally released.

She storms away with a shout of, "You'll get what's coming to you!" XB's legs jellify beneath him. Keralis is quick to get an arm around his shoulders, holding him up.

"Come on, back to the ship with you. That's enough adventure for today." XB nods, resting briefly on Keralis's shoulders. With a bit of effort, he keeps himself steady enough to follow Keralis out of the store. He tries to ignore the eyes that follow them, the tightness it causes in his chest.

"What about the shopping?" His voice is quiet even to him. Keralis shakes his head.

"It's okay. Shishwamy will send someone else to do it. No worries." XB tries to let that comfort him but it only makes his anxiety worse. Once again, things are messed up because of him. This will put them off schedule, someone else will need to come out, and they'll all know it's because of him.

"Maybe," he starts, hesitating and continuing. "Maybe I shouldn't wear my suit when I come out." Keralis chirps in concern, keeping them at the edge of the busy streets.

"And why do you say that?" XB looks at his arm, at the deep colours and intricate patterns and mechanisms that make up the suit.

"It might be easier if people don't like, associate me with the Hermits when I'm in public." Keralis frowns, a big expression on his face. He squeezes the arm around XB's shoulders.

"XB, sweetiepie-" Keralis nudges his head against XB's. The hair tickles enough to make him gently laugh. "-If you don't want to wear your suit for your own safety, that's okay! But don't you go taking it off because you're afraid of making us look bad. No siree! You're a Hermit, XB, and we love you."

"That doesn't change people's opinions of me." Opinions so strong they're willing to threaten him in daylight, and nobody steps in. Keralis chitters.

"Doesn't change people's opinion of me either! But I know they won't be upset if we have to avoid a planet, or I can't attend a meeting. We care about you. And I'm sure there's lots of people out there who care about you too." XB can't bring himself to respond to that. He knows Keralis is discriminated against for being a banshee. But it's just...

It's not the same as being blamed for destroying an entire planet.

XB doesn't go out in public again for nearly a year.

"I can't believe this," Doc announces as he storms into the room. XB twitches, instinctively listening whilst he tries to focus on his book. He's tucked in the corner of the common room, buried in beanbags and mostly out of sight. He can see the wall of Cleo's hair move as she looks up.

"What's happened this time?" She asks, placing her book on the table. She moves her legs so Doc can sit down. It's been a busy few months for the ship. They've had new additions. Doc is one of them. He's fallen quickly into helping Xisuma with negotiations, managing their various relationships with other groups. XB is kinda terrified of him, actually. But he trusts Xisuma and his judgement. He wouldn't do anything to put them in danger.

"A group has dropped their support of us because of the latest drama." Doc collapses into the seat, leaning into the cushions. "I can't believe it, man." XB presses his mouth together, his fins pressing back. The latest drama being people remembering he exists as a Hermit. Some news came out about the planet he- he didn't destroy. He's been avoiding going online but, apparently it's inescapable.

"Seriously?" Cleo asks. She scowls behind her hair. "That's so stupid." Doc hums his agreement.

"I just don't get it." He throws his robotic hand up as he talks, leaning towards Cleo. "I mean, I've barely seen the guy, but he doesn't seem that bad. Not bad enough to make a campaign like this." XB swallows. He puts his book down in favour of squeezing his hands into his robe. Cleo sighs, nodding.

"He really isn't. I don't know why they keep dragging it up." She grabs one of her legs, pulling it up close to her. She leans on her knee. "You should've seen him when he first joined, Doc. Guy looked ready to accept his death."

"He doesn't even look capable of doing that to a planet-" XB almost chokes, standing and abandoning his book entirely.

"Sorry I'm- I'm just leaving." He wraps his arms around himself, ready to stumble out of the room.

Cleo is faster, jumping up and grabbing his arm, pulling him back with a stern, "XB." She pushes him between them, sitting him down and reclaiming her spot. XB ducks his head, tucking his legs up in front of him.

"XB, sorry man, I didn't realise you were in here." Doc sounds apologetic. He's looking at XB with worry, sat a careful distance away to avoid crowding him in. XB still finds him a frightening sight. The un-moving robotics bore into him.

"It's okay," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I would've found out eventually." Doc frowns.

"I meant talking about you like you weren't here," Doc says. "I'm not usually a gossip. Though I would've preferred to tell you more sensitively."

"If we knew they were gonna drop us over some false allegations, X wouldn't have allied with them to start with," Cleo tells him, crossing her arms as she sinks back.

"They don't really know it's false though," XB points out. "I mean, it's not like this isn't a ship of criminals." He can't help his glance at Doc as he says it. Thankfully, the former mafia leader takes no offence.

"I barely know you, XB, and even I can tell it's stupid." Doc's accented voice portrays his emotions well. "You seem like you've been a big help to the Hermits."

"He has been." Cleo pokes his legs with her foot. “You're a Hermit through and through, XB. No escaping it now."

"Everybody here has only good things to say about you, man. I'm proud to call you a crew mate. Who cares what anyone else thinks?" XB smiles, relaxing more onto his knees. It's nice to hear but-

He cares.

XB sighs as he flicks his fins back, fitting his helmet on snug and letting them pop into place. Keralis had to dip last minute, so XB is going to this meeting instead. He's not particularly intimidating, but hopefully he'll be able to defuse the situation if needs must. Two of the newer Hermits are coming as well. He watches as they suit up, making an odd pair. XB still isn't sure what to think of the group. Python vouched for them, but ex-Convex members? Especially such high ranking ones? And now one of them is going to a negotiation with them? Right.

"Is everybody ready?" Xisuma asks. There's a chorus of affirmatives. Doc stands next to Xisuma, files under his arms. "Let's get moving, then."

They keep as a tight unit, going over the plan once more. Xisuma and Doc will be doing the negotiating. XB and Wels, the other new Hermit, are there for protection. Scar, the ex-Convex, is there for luck. XB doesn't get it, and he's not going to ask.

The meeting falls apart from the moment they arrive, really. The crew they're meeting turn and whisper to each other, too quiet for XB's translator to pick up. Their admin steps forward, slit eyes threatening.

"You insult us," XB's suit translates. He can see Xisuma's suit plating shift as he tenses. He speaks in their language.

"I'm afraid I don't know where you're coming from," he replies, his voice controlled even in translation. Their admin steps closer. Any other person would've stepped away. Xisuma stands firm, Doc coming to his side.

"You bring a Convex member and a planet destroyer to our meeting." XB twitches, wanting nothing more than to sneak out of the room. "It is bad enough you grant them safety, but to have them in our negotiation?"

"Scar has denounced Convex, and the allegations against XB are false." Xisuma's voice is level, his posture not showing a hint of weakness. "Do you wish to negotiate or should we end this meeting here?"

"I recommend you leave with your lives while you can." XB shudders, fighting to stay still. He's thankful the helmet hides his expression.

"I recommend you don't threaten my crew." The temperature in the room drops with Xisuma's voice. The other admin steps back, eyeing them suspiciously. Xisuma turns to the Hermits, keeping an eye on the opposing crew. He nods. "We'll take our leave."

They exit at that, all of them keeping a watch that they aren't followed onto the ship. It's only when the door closes behind them that they relax. Wels darts to Scar's side. The ex-Convex collapses against the wall, trembling in his hold. XB looks away. That feels like something private. Definitely not something he'd expect from ex-Convex.

Apparently he's considered equivalent to the Convex. The thought makes him dizzy. Doc and Xisuma are already talking in low voices, recounting what happened and planning their next steps. XB is incredibly out of place. He glances around the room, trying not to feel jealous when he sees how close Scar and Wels are, how gentle Wels sounds, their helmets pressed together. XB swallows and slips out of the entrance hall before any of them notice.

He ignores anyone he passes until he reaches his room, closing the door behind him. His armour comes off, and he dives into the pool in the adjoining space. He sighs, lying face down in the water, barely feeling the fabric layer he left on. The liquid is a friendly pressure. Something comforting after all of... This. No matter what happens, he'll always have water.

Time passes as he lies there, blocking out the world outside the water. He tries not to think about how he's messed things up again. There isn't much else to think about, though. He doesn't understand why the Hermits keep him around when he causes so many problems. Lost deals, alliances, constant bad publicity. All tied to one person. Wouldn't it be easier to cut him off? XB could manage. Maybe he should do it for them.

"XB?" He jumps at the sound of an opening door, instinctively reaching up to cover his eye.

"Eye!" He calls, hearing the footsteps stop.

"Oh," Hypno's voice calls back. "Hold on, dude." XB follows the movement around his bedroom, until an object is placed in his hands with a pat. "There you go." XB pulls it over his eye, checking it's secure before looking. Hypno's crouched in front of him. He smiles, waving his fingers.

"How'd you know I was here?" XB asks, resting at the edge of the pool. Hypno sits down, not complaining about the wet floor.

"Guessed," he admits with a shrug. "They were worried when they realised you'd vanished." XB sighs, resting his chin on his arms.

"They seemed busy."

"Well, they are." Hypno nods in agreement. He crosses his legs so he can lean towards XB. "Xisuma doesn't want to stick around in case that crew turns hostile. But he was still worried about you."

XB frowns, "There's nothing to worry about."

"Is that why you're hiding in your pool?" Hypno asks. It's clearly not a question. XB slouches back into the water. "XB, it's not your fault, dude. You can't keep blaming yourself."

"Then who do I blame?" XB can't help but sound grouchy. If it weren't for him then that meeting might have worked out. Maybe they would've been fine with just Scar. Hypno leans back as he counts on his hand.

"The company for not taking responsibility, the management that decided to frame you, the other employees who were complicit, the news companies that were likely paid off, the ones that latched onto the story without researching it, the ones that keep bringing it up for quick clicks." Hypno turns to look at him. "Do I need to keep going?" XB shakes his head.

"I think I get the message," he replies. "But I'm not sure if it helps." Hypno nods without judgement.

"Then what do you think will?" He tries, instead. XB partially closes his eye to think about it.

"I'm not really sure." Hypno rubs his shoulder. The texture of dry skin helps ground him.

"That's okay." Hypno’s voice is friendly, reassuring. XB knows he's turned this into an impromptu therapy session. He thinks he needs it. "How about we try to work it out together? You're my friend, XB. I want you to be happy with us. I don't want you to feel guilty over things that aren't your fault." Hypno holds a hand out. "So, are you willing to work with me?" XB smiles, kicking up to meet his hand.

"Yeah. I think I can give it a shot."

They'd been outside, spending some time in the sunshine of the planet, then somebody-

XB squeezes his fins, continuing to pace the corridor outside the infirmary. Stress has closed the windows, needing to focus, and XB doesn't want to make anything worse. This is all his fault. Hypno's lying in there having emergency surgery because somebody wanted to kill XB. He finally falls against one of the walls as his legs give way, sliding to the floor with a quiet noise.

He formulates a plan in his head.

He's already been distant lately. This was the first time he'd hung out with Hypno in weeks, and look at what's happened. He can't be friends with people if he's going to hurt them. They'll understand. He hopes they'll understand.

He takes a deep breath.

His memories of the next hour are faint. He packs essentials into a bag. Leaves his suit and communicator neatly on his bed. He takes the emergency savings he keeps tucked away in his drawer, counting through without really taking it in. Though he writes a note, he doesn't remember what it contains. He thinks he stood in the doorway for a few minutes. Used some time to take in the room he's called home for so many years now. He really can’t remember.

Then he sneaks out, carefully unscrewing panels in the water filtration system, replacing them with care. He knows it like the back of his hand. He installed it, after all. The drop from the ship hurts his leg but nothing in his head registers it. He's lucky this is a big enough planet to park her. Means it'll be so much easier to get lost.

He wraps himself up in a coat, pulling it over his features. Some small part of him can't believe he's doing this. The Hermits are all he's known for years. They're his friends. But that's why it's so important he leaves. He survived on his own before. He can do it again.

He finds a room in a hotel for the night. The robotic receptionist doesn't question who he is, accepting the money and giving him the door key. He collapses onto the bed in a heap, realising he has no idea what he's going to do next. His plan kind of trails off here. Perhaps he'll hide out in this hotel until the ship leaves, but that's wasting money. It's probably better to head out for supplies, and get on a ship as far away as possible.

For today, he's exhausted enough to curl up under the covers and hide from the world. It doesn’t feel like he’s part of it right now, anyway.

There's a knock at the door.

He sighs, burying his face into the pillow. The knock only gets more insistent. Realistically, it's either the Hermits or somebody who's here to kill him. The fact they've not broken down the door yet suggests the Hermits. Well, the more responsible ones. XB keeps a hand on his eye strap either way. He's still in the rumpled coat.

He'll admit, he's surprised to see Xisuma in the doorway. The admin is wearing a cloak, his shadowed eyes nearly glowing in the darkness. He looks tired. When doesn’t he?

"Can I come in?" Xisuma asks, keeping his voice quiet. XB nods, stepping aside. If only because X should not be stood out in the corridor of some hotel in the same town someone tried to kill XB half a day earlier.

"I hope you're not here on your own," XB tells him, sitting on the bed. Xisuma finds a chair by the desk, sitting down tidily.

"Some of the others are nearby," Xisuma replies. "They checked it was safe first. Out of concern for you, as well." XB leans against the wall. "Hypno is okay, by the way. He was asking after you." XB sighs, tucking away into the coat.

"You're trying to make me feel guilty."

Xisuma shakes his head, "I'm letting you know. He was worried. We all were."

"He could have died because of me," XB doesn't try hiding it. Not from himself.

"Were you the one who shot him?" Xisuma asks. There's no change from his gentle tone.

"No, but-"

"Then you weren't the reason." XB knows, logically, that's true. He wasn't the one who fired on him. He didn't frame himself, all those years ago. It's just hard to prove that in his head. Not when the consequences are right in front of him. When he’s spent so long thinking about everything he could’ve done differently.

"It feels like I am," he says, tilting forward on the bed. "I don't want to make the people around me unsafe anymore. Any of the Hermits." Xisuma nods, sitting up in the chair.

"If you want to leave, I won't stop you." XB swallows. He really can just leave. Just... Go. "But I want you to consider if that's what you want to do. Not because you want to protect us. We can protect ourselves. Do you want to leave?" XB digs his fingers into his leg.

"I'm not sure." Does he want to leave? He wants to keep the others safe. He wants to stop giving the Hermits his bad reputation. But they're still his friends. His family. He doesn't want to leave them, but he doesn't see a compromise.

"XB." He automatically looks to Xisuma when he says his name. "I am truly sorry I never addressed this with you before. I'm sorry it's been affecting you for so long."

"It's not your fault," XB replies. Xisuma shakes his head.

"I should have done more for you. And I'm willing to offer that now." XB’s fins twitch in confusion. "What do you say we try and clear your name?"

"You don't need to do that for me."

"I want to. The others want to." Xisuma crosses the room, sitting down in front of XB. "That's what I'm offering. You can stay with us. We want you to stay with us. And we'll help you achieve this. However we can."

"Nothing that would put you in danger," XB corrects.

"Nothing that would put the Hermits in danger," Xisuma agrees. XB shuts his eye, considering what that would mean for him. It's not like everyone would believe it. It's not going to solve all his problems. But it's a start. He can't just- keep feeling guilty forever. He's so tired of it. "You're family, XB. We want you happy." XB nods, leaning forward. His body is heavy with relief. Xisuma welcomes him into his arms.

"Okay," he agrees, "I want the same."

XB pauses at the sound of loud shouting coming from the park. He turns, watching Keralis jump to the fence delighted. Hypno laughs, gently pulling XB to watch.

"You can't get me!" A girl yells, dark cornrows pulled into a bun. She climbs onto the play equipment, standing with confidence at the top. Another girl runs to the ladder, her hand held in mimic of a gun. Her blonde hair is done in a braid.

"You can't run forever!" She follows it up with loud 'pew's, hanging off the ladder as she pretends to shoot.

"Yeah, I can put you to sleep!" Another boy climbs up the slide, his brown hair falling into his eyes. Keralis is chirping in excitement, watching with a wide smile. The chirps attract the attention of the blonde. She gasps, losing her grip on the ladder and falling backwards.

Keralis makes a surprised noise. He jumps the fence, rushing to the girl's side. XB doesn't see any parents around, following with Hypno.

"Hey, little madam, are you okay?" Keralis asks, crouching down by the girl. She sits up, bouncing forward with glee.

"You're Hermits!" She cries, voice high and squeaky. The other two kids are peering at them around the play equipment. Their mouths hang open.

"We are!" Keralis agrees. "And what's your name?" The girl's hands spread out across the spongy playground floor.

"I'm Flora!" She grins. "I like it 'cause it starts with an 'F', like False." Keralis nods, offering his hands to stand the girl up again. She wobbles on her feet, spinning to show off her plait. “And we have the same hair colour! It’s so cool!”

"Yeah, False is really cool, isn't she?" Keralis watches with a carefully controlled smile. It’s cute how he tries not to scare them. She jumps, holding her arms out wide.

"She's so cool! She's my favourite."

"Not as cool as Stress!" The other girl calls, running into her friend's back. She nearly sends them both sprawling over again. "She helps people, no matter what! I want to do that." Hypno joins Keralis, pulling XB over with him.

"A very noble cause," Hypno tells her. "I'm sure you'll be amazing." She puts her hands on her hips with a grin.

"Yeah. I'm gonna be the best doctor you've ever seen."

"Yeah, but Stress doesn't have four arms," Flora points out, mimicking each style of weaponry. "How cool would that be?" Keralis laughs, a series of cheerful chirps escaping with it.

"They're both cool, how about that?" He suggests, before it turns into a full argument.

"What about you?" Hypno encourages, holding an arm out for the boy. "Do you have a favourite?"

"His favourite is XB," the dark haired girl says, pointing at him. XB places a hand on his chest, unable to contain a squeak of surprise.

"Me?" He checks, not quite able to believe that. The three nod their heads. They peer up at him in a semi-circle, with bright eyes and curious faces.

"You can put people to sleep like Hypno-" the boy points at him, "-But you got such a cool backstory!"

"Mm-hm!" Flora nods quickly. "Framed by an evil company, joining the Hermits to do good across the universe!" She poses towards the sky, pumping her fist and bending a leg up. XB laughs softly, finding himself hiding behind his hand.

"Oh, oh, oh!" The boy jumps forward, looking between Hypno and XB. "Can you put us to sleep? That would be so cool!" Hypno laughs at that, joined by Keralis's squeaky giggles.

"I don't think that would be smart." He pats the boy's hair, smiling at XB. "But, if you've got something for us to sign, we could do that?" The girl claps, grabbing Flora's hands excitedly.

"We've got our cards!" She shrieks. She grabs the boy's hand. "Ben, come on, let's get them!" The trio run off across the playground, digging in their bags. XB can see the look Hypno and Keralis are giving him. He smiles, ducking his head in embarrassment.

"Don't you two start," he warns, hiding behind his hands. Keralis leans over, gently wiggling one of XB's fins.

"You're his favourite," he teases, voice sing-song. XB laughs, hiding even further.

"Noooo," he whines. Hypno puts his arm around XB's shoulders, pulling him into a side hug.

"And they're smarter than the press," he tells XB, his voice trying to sound serious, but playful all the same.

"Much, much smarter!" Keralis agrees.

"Only 'cause of you guys," XB reminds them. Keralis takes XB’s other side, pinning him between his friends.

“Nah.” Keralis rubs his fist against XB’s head. “You’re just finally getting the love you deserve.”

“Absolutely.” Hypno tilts around so XB can see his smile. XB ducks his head, embarrassed. But the feeling doesn’t leave him. Not as they talk to the kids, signing their cards and telling them (child friendly) stories of their travels. Or amongst the loudness of the other Hermits. His family. He’s a Hermit. And the people who care about him are the ones who matter.

#space outlaws #space outlaws au #not gonna maintag this one lmao #my writing #tbh im just a sucker for ppl reassuring others #knowing you have a place somewhere #its good stuff #also u can somewhat track time passing across seasons by who appears lmao #and i liked the lil side things i snuck in #doc n cleo having bonded over similar histories #wels n scar having a bond #the forehead touch is becoming a thing #anyway enough rambling #hope yall enjoyed

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undergrounddweller89 · 4 years ago

Text

More random thoughts on if Killian and Walter lived together some time after movie events, still au and ooc and Killian is I dunno how to describe it in love a little obsessed secretly with Walter and this is one ramble where there's no admittance of love between them as It's a time prior to that, anyway I throw sense out the window I'm literally too tired to get everything right and wrote this on the spot so bleh on mistakes and stuff.

Killian was rifling through his draws, where was it, he'd wanted to wear it last night for bed, he was sure it'd been put back, he sighed wearily, maybe it was at the bottom of the wash basket still.

He went down the stairs for breakfast where Walter was munching on toast, Lovey on his shoulder.

Watching tv, amazing really, especially as Beckett was usually jotting some new idea down.

Aaaand then he saw it.

"Walter."

Killian's voice was a soft growl as he quirked a brow and folded his arms.

Walter looked up at him like a guilty puppy who knew he'd done something wrong but hoped the look would let him get away with it.

"Yes, Killian?"

He asked trying to sound innocent as possible.

"I was looking for that shirt last night, care to tell me how it ended up on you?"

Walter looked at Lovey and then at Killian

"Ummm well it was in my drawer, I dunno it just looked really comfy and...I'm sorry I won't borrow your clothes anymore..."

"Borrowing would imply that you asked for them, you Beckett are a certified low grade criminal...stealing a man's clothes could imply something else though, I expect that shirt back tonight."

Killian returned walking past the couch and going to the kitchen, it was sweet Walter had rearranged the room so he could actually have surfaces to make himself meals and the likes.

The first time he'd arrived he'd been more than expecting to not feel welcomed, sure it was Beckett but people could seem one way out in the world and another behind closed doors.

No, Beckett wore his heart on his sleeve and for a while he'd wanted to place his claws around it and watch that sunshine attitude leave him as he realised the world was not a little wonderland that could be made better with a hug.

Then again, it was a hug that saved him so to speak...irony.

Killian though at this point might have just gone crazy if Walter wasn't so naturally affectionate with people he trusted, why he trusted him was still beyond his understanding but here they were, living in what had always been Walters home since childhood...

Walter's natural ability to be affectionate meant he could get away with ruffling his hair, having Beckett leaning on him during a movie and just casually placing an arm around him.

Sometimes Beckett would just sit on his lap like it was completely normal and Killian had tested the boundaries by placing a chin on his shoulder and Walter had, had no reaction like this was just typical interaction...was it so typical that he just would also let him put his arms around him to and nuzzle his neck...

Then again he might have lied a little and just said he had an itchy nose when that happened.

Of course he'd have murdered anyone else who dared to sit on his lap, just because he was behaving here didnt mean he wouldn't still straight up murder someone if he thought he could get away with it.

Lance had tried sitting on his lap once as a joke, Killian recalled letting out a literal growl, he'd even been somewhat surprised at the near primal sound, Sterling of course never tried that again.

He made his morning coffee, thankful that Walter also knew not to talk too much until he'd had it.

He walked back in and found Walter ass up in the air and nearly spat his coffee, he hadn't seen it before as his shirt had been covering it, not only was wearing his shirt but his boxers to.

Beckett who had been reaching for a magazine under the side table hit his head when he heard the sharp tone in Killian's voice

"Beckett!"

Killian winced slightly, even he felt that thud.

Walter sat up holding a hand to his head

"Yes Killian?"

"Nothing, just wanted to see if I could startle you, seems like it."

He decided not to chew him out, because perhaps he liked that he was wearing them.

Killian sat in the arm chair and put a leg over the other, hiding the subtle interest that showed his body agreed with that statement.

"You're evil."

Walter pouted rubbing his head.

"Hmm perhaps but you already knew that when you let the big bad wolf into your home, little red."

Walter was about to argue but...eh fair point.

"Still mean."

"You like it Beckett or you'd have given me your puppy eyes by now."

Killian sipped his coffee and sighed contentedly, god coffee made existence just a little easier and some days he swore he'd marry whoever made it.

He sat there half watching what was on the tv, one of Walters soap opera's which he would die before admitting he actually was invested in it.

"I swear Walter, if you were bigger than a tooth pick I would steal your clothing though I might wager I could just about put that yellow jumper over my arm."

Walter looked him over and shrugged

"Wouldn't mind if you did, I have a pair of baggy Unitee pants that might fit you though they might ride up to your knees considering our height differences."

Killian's eye twitched as he grumbled

"Id sooner be dead."

Though he was never going to admit he might have been a creep one time after Walter had slept in them and done something involving his hand just because he knew Walters cock had been right there, they'd still been warm.

Killian half buried his face into his coffee mug hoping that Walters comment hadn't been one hinting that he knew what sordid thing he'd done.

"Also not my colour Beckett."

Was all he responded.

Walter shrugged and went back to his show, flicking through his magazine, Lovey was nesting in Walters hair and glaring at Killian, oh she knew, she knew what he was doing, her look though was not one that told him to stop it.

No it was one that said HURT MY BABY I'LL PECK OUT YOUR GOOD EYE.

Killian's cheeks puffed out as he exhaled, sheesh who knew a pigeon could scream murder louder than him with just a stare.

Later that night Walter showered before bed, returned the shirt back to Killian who went back to his room, the boxers placed in the basket just under a few things prior to said shower, the basket was usually left out on the landing.

After his shower and wrapped in towels Walter had been wondering something, for a while now.

He quietly looked where he'd placed the boxers he'd worn that day in the basket... Uh-huh, just as he'd expected, they were gone, he couldn't help but smirk, oh Killian thought he was being sooooo sneaky.

Heh, no, he wasn't as quiet as he thought he was either, he could hear the subtle creak in there and soft whine no doubt into a pillow... Or biting his fist, honestly if he had metal claw he'd definitely handle himself with it to.

The first time this had happened it'd been a surprise, now it was just enticing to see how long it was before Killian would break and climb into his bed and plead for him.

Oh Walter might seem naive to the world in so, so many ways but there were somethings he was not so ignorant on either, he could walk right in there and offer a helping hand but for the time being it was far more pleasurable to hear the quite whines and play pretend Killian was begging for him, on his knees a desperate man who desired to the point of pain.

After all who didn't want someone to pursue and crave them like that.

He dried off and climbed into his own bed smiling.

Especially when the feeling was apparently mutual.

(I don't tend to go deep on my stuff I guess, what you get is what you get.)

#killian x walter #Tristan x Walter #Lime #spies in disguise #Au

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amoosewritesfanfic · 5 years ago

Text

[+18]

[Dabi x Fem!Reader]

[Villain x Pro Hero]

[Warnings: drunk sex, aphrodisiac, drugging, mentions of alcohol, rough sex, lipstick marks, runny make up, kinda dub con, swearing, stalker kinda vibes]

[I have no clue what this is, but here ya go, while I'm still busy writing that other thing.]

[I own none of the characters or art! All credit goes to original creators. Edit and story is mine tho]

Another bust, Y/N had been working on this case for the past two months, a string of burnt corpses popping up all over the city, it was hard to I.D the bodies but they were apparently some low rate criminals that seemed to piss off the wrong person, this man was named Dabi, his distinctive feature was the burnt skin covering his body, but there was not much else about him that she could find.

But Dabi definitely found out about her, chatter could be heard from a few low rate villains who was starting to chase after him. When he saw Y/N for the first it it was like hos heart was set a flame not because he was in love, no... far from it. He thought;

'This is the one that I'm going to absolutely ruin~'

Usually Y/N would have said no, as usual, to any drinks or a night out but her boss happened to tell her to take a break and with a direct order like that she couldn't say no. Her friends were immediately excited to see her rock up in that tight black dress she loved to wear when she went out, the way it hugged her curves and showed off just the right amount of cleavage was pleasing to anyone that looked, of course she wasn't wearing a bra and anyone who would feel her up that night would know.

The black heels making her slightly taller than usual, her hair loose, framing her face. Her lips painted with a pretty black lipstick and somewhat of a smokey eye done giving her that real seductive look.

Y/N had no clue that the man she had been hunting was in this bar and he knew that she was hunting him, of course everyone was, but he had grown infatuated with her specifically. The way her body moved with her friends or the way she laughed with those flushed cheeks had the man eager to see... to feel more of her. He knew when she were about five shots in and a glass of gin and tonic she would be wonky and her perception of who or what was around wouldn't matter.

So that's when he made his move, after all she stood alone ordering what looked to be like another gin, when she wasn't looking a distraction which came from one of her friends he managed to slip something into her drink. A harmless little drug.

Five minutes in she was back on the dance floor having chugged down her gin and almost bouncing off the walls from how good her body felt. Dabi wasted no time in moving in, his eyes watching her now, Y/N noticed him now, not taking in his appearance under the low colourful lights. He moved in closer when he saw that cute little finger beckoning him to come closer to her and he did, he got in close, pulling her back up against him.

She didn't mind, no in fact she grinded her ass against him, her fingers tangled up in his hair as his hands trailed along her curves, giving a few gropes to her ass and breasts. He could hear those cute little moans fall from those pretty little lips grinding her ass more against his slowly hardening cock. He tilted her head slightly, capturing her lips against his, a pierced tongue slyly running along her bottom lip making her part her lips allowing him access to her mouth.

She couldn't help but moan in delight from the way the metal felt against her tongue. Soon he broke away from the kiss, his fingers dancing along the hem of her dress, a deep voice rumbling against her ear making her giddy. "You wanna fuck doll?~" the way his tongue tan over the edge of her ear made her almost moan again but she gave him an eager nod, her body felt far too hot to say no and honestly she felt like this man would give her the pleasure she desired.

With a small smirk against her skin he took her hand and led her to a back room, away from prying eyes. Seems as though her colleagues hadn't even noticed. When the door shut his hand immediately moved around her throat slamming her against the, a small smirk on his lips. He couldn't believe it, the hero that had been chasing him for the past two months was practically moaning for him to fuck her. "Look at you... you look so slutty, like a bitch in heat~" he teased as his free hand pulled down her dress, exposing those pretty breasts, a thumb trailing over the hardening nub.

His hand then dipped between her juicy thighs, running over her, panties, no... a g-string. "What a slutty bitch... and you're so fucking wet too~" he breathed against her ear, earning a quiet moan from her. "D-don't tease me...~" she whimpered as her hand kept his hand between her thighs, he didn't hesitate for a second as he dipped his finger between those slick folds earning an almost desperate moan from her. "Do you want me to fuck you doll face?~" his lips were still pressed against her ear, his hand tightening slightly around her throat, the other wiggling inside her sloppy wet hole.

"Gods yes... please... please fuck me~" she moaned as her fingers dug into his coat. His lips captured hers again before he shifted them again, he pulled his hands away from her body for a moment before he bent her over a nearby table, the room that they happened to be inside seemed to be an office of sorts? Who honestly knew, all that Y/N was thinking about was being plowed until she couldn't think straight.

'If this is how she acts on a simple aphrodisiac what will she act like on a stronger drug...?' He thought as his hand landed a firm smack on her exposed rear making the female yelp her hands gripping the table. "I hope you're on birth control dollface~" he hummed burning off the g-string. "There's no need for this~" he added on, the sound of his zipper being pulled down and that light smack against her ass had the hero whimper almost.

She didn't even need to look back to tell he was rather well endowed, but what really surprised her was the slight bumps she could feel, his hand wrapped around his shaft slowly gliding his tip to rub against, the groan that fell from his lips was drowned out by the moan that fell from her lips as he slid himself inside her, stretching out her walls making her moan in delight, the feeling of his piercings rubbing against her walls made her legs tense up and her back arch slightly.

"F-fuck~♡ you're so big~"

"And this pretty little pussy of yours is taking my cock so well~" he grunted, his hands gripping her hips before thrusting deep inside her, his tip pressing against her cervix making her moan. "Shit...~♡ you're gonna make me cum already~" she whined out. "You better hold it~" he grunted, his hand moving from her hip to her hair, gripping it as his hips started moving, the pace wasn't slow at all, it was rough, the sound of skin smacking against skin filled the room along with grunts and moans from the two of them.

"Oh gods... you're gonna make me cum... your cock is touching all the right spots~ I can't hold it" she whined, he leaned in keeping her head tilted so he could attack her neck as his hips didn't stop, even as her walls slowly tighten around his cock.

"Oi oi oi, you better not cum doll, I'll stop if you cum~" he breathed against her ear as his hand now wrapped around her throat making her gasp out, legs were shaking. "P-please let me cum... I want to cum..~" she managed to breath out, she was so close, she could feel herself slowly reaching that high as much as she tried to stop herself, but oh... she definitely couldn't hold back anymore, her love juices dripped all over his pierced cock, making him grunt slightly from how tight she had gotten, but his thrusting hadn't stopped no, in fact he picked up the pace.

His hips snapping back and forth into her sensitive cunt with his hand tightening around her throat. "W-wait... you're being to rough, if you... ah!"

SMACK!

A bright red hand print was left on her ass, the skin swelling up slightly from the harsh impact of his hand, tears building up from the harsh spank.

"Little sluts who don't listen shouldn't be treated nice, you can't even listen to simple orders I'll have to teach ya a lesson doll face~" he cooed into her ear, his hand easing over the swelling skin, making her wince slightly, his tongue running over the shell of her ear. His hips were pressed up against hers now, not moving at all.

"Now that you've cum don't you think you should make me cum? Hmm~? I think you should let me fuck that pretty little throat until its bruised..." he whispered into her ear, her hips grinded slightly back getting some form of friction from his cock still buried deep inside her. "Huh? Or should I fuck you here...?" His hand trailed over her ass spreading her asscheek slightly before slowly dipping his thumb into her puckered hole squeezing her throat a little tighter making her gasp out.

For him however it almost felt like her pussy walls tightened around his cock. "Oh? Well would ya' look at that doll face~ I just squeezed your throat slightly and your pussy tightened up so much~ or was it my thumb rubbing against your pretty little ass hole?~" he hummed it felt like his thumb heated up against your puckered hole making you gasp out, your back arching. "Are you a horny little masochist? Do you like being choked out and fucked? Nod if that's what ya' like~" he teased and she nodded almost eagerly, her make up seemed to be running down her face from the tears that spilt, but she didn't care...

"What a stupid little masochist..." he murmured.

His hand loosened around her throat before he pulled his cock out of her pussy, it looked like it was twitching but his focus was now on that puckered hole. Dabi let his cock sit between those sweet asscheeks, lubing it up with her pussy juices before he shifted his shaft, pressing the tip against the puckered hole. "W-wait... not so-..." he didn't slid himself into her tight little ass, inside he pulled her up and shoved her onto her knees.

"I'm gonna save it for when you really piss me off~" he hummed as his hand stroked her cheek softly making her look up at him.

"But that doesn't mean that you're let off the hook dollface~ I'm gonna mess up that pretty black lipstick all over that pretty little face of yours~" he hummed trailing a thumb over her bottom lip, forcing her to part her lips, his eyes watching her expression as she ran her tongue over his tip which earned a quiet grunt from him. "Open that pretty mouth doll..." he mumbled as his hand trailed through her hair before giving it a firm grip, her lips immediately parted for him, he wasted no time in sliding himself into her mouth, groaning at how her tongue immediately rubbed against his shaft as it slid into her mouth, he stopped for a moment to let her get use to his size, but slowly pulled back, grinning slightly at the sight of her lipstick already staining his cock, but

"Don't forget to breath."

Was all he said as his hips snapped forward, burying his cock down her throat, making her gag slightly, his grip being firm on her hair made it easier for him to start thrusting, heavy balls smacking against her chin, faint lipstick marks covering his balls and cocks when he pulled back. Cerulean hues watching her eyes tear up and the drool starting to drip from the corners of her lips down onto her breasts or on her thighs. He felt the way her throat tightened and the way her nails dug into the back of his thighs, it made him pick up the pace.

His thrusts were slowly becoming a bit more erratic, with a few more harsh thrusts she could feel him throbbing in her throat, with one last harsh thrust, he buried his cock deep down her throat, his that warm salty essence spurting down her pretty little throat.

Her hands were tapping at his thighs as an indication that she couldn't breath, she almost passed out but he pulled back, his cock falling from her lips as he examined her face.

Mascara running down her skin and her lipstick smudged with strings of salvia connecting from her lips to his cock.

He loosened his hold on her hair, threading his fingers through the slightly matted locks. "I can't wait to use you more... do you want that doll face?" His words were soft as his fingers played with her hair as some means of 'aftercare'

She gave a slow nod, she looked like a dog waiting for it's master to give an order...

And gods it would be so wrong for the villain not to use that to his hearts content.

"Good, cause this is far from over my cute little hero~" he taunted and Y/N let the words fly over her head, it wouldn't be until the next morning that she would find her hands cuffed to the bed, her pussy feeling oddly full and her legs feeling sore along with her throat, yet she felt she was on a soft bed...

How smashed did she get...?

"Oh, you're awake~" that slightly familiar voice teased out, she looked up towards the source, there was standing with his hands shoved into his pockets a smug smile on his face, the scars on his face confused her for a moment before everything clicked in place.

"Dabi..." she whispered.

"Oh you figured it out hero~ how adorable~" he cooed clapping his hands together. "I can't let you go." He said as he moved closer, "shame you can't use your quirk would of been more fun if you fought, but it was more entertaining to watch a hero fall in a pool of ecstasy last night. It was fuckin' cute the way you be-..." "Shut up." She blushed, looking away from him, but feeling of him gripping her face made her whimper and look up at him.

"I think it would be more fun to fuck you while you're sober, you'll break so easy because of how weak you are~" He hummed a thumb trailing over her bottom lip.

"Oh I can't wait to fuck you into submission~" the way he had said it had her body throb in... delight? No... it had to be disgust delight

[I still have no clue what this was but I hope you enjoyed it :3]

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero x reader #smut #bnha smut #boku no hero academia smut #my hero academia smut #bnha #reader x my hero academia #dabi x reader #reader x dabi #league of villains smut

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drethanramslay · 4 years ago

Text

Rock Bottom

Pairing: Mona X MC (Alexis Jennings)

Masterlist

Word count: 1.8 K (I really tried🤧)

Warnings: None, there is swearing, also there is a crossover 👀

Author's note: I'm taking part in @rodappreciationweek and this is my entry for day 3 (mona)

The hosts of RoDaw @client-327 @brightpinkpeppercorn and @choicesarehard are donating $5 usd to the Lebanese red cross, up to $500 for every piece of Mona content today! Please consider making/posting something for Mona today if you haven't already❤️

I'm also taking part in @wackydrabbles so you will find the prompt in bold

Forgive me if I make any mistakes

"Prisoners move back to your respective cells." The loudspeaker blared, cutting sharply through the air, giving Mona a cold splash of reality.

Until that godforsaken announcement, Mona had been sitting on the steps, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the cool breeze threading through her hair. The sun rays poured over her and she enjoyed the warmth emanating from them. She could smell the ocean and with her eyes closed, she could almost imagine standing on the shores of Santa Monica, the sound of the waves washing over her.

But there is only so much imagination one can use to forget that she was in jail.

To her darn luck, she had been transferred to Trask Island, a maximum security prison off the coast of Florida. It was one of those dreary prison where you were completely cut off from the world.

No call, no letters, no communication.

Whatever fucked up environment they created here, that was her world and Mona hated every second of it.

It was also called the 'rock' because one, it was on a island and two, it would drown all your hopes and wishes of a future, just like how a rock sinks in water.

No one has ever escaped Trask Island and no one ever will. The words of the warden echoed through her head making her scoff.

It's cute that he thinks I will be sticking around in this shit hole.

Mona was super determined to get the fuck out of here even though there were moments when she was completely and utterly lost.

She hated the orange tracksuits she had to wear. She hated the way these spiteful men dictated her life and tried to break her spirit. She hated being stuck in a tiny cell.

She longed to feel the adrenaline rush in her veins when she raced.

She longed to feel her hands gripping her steering wheel, as she drove at speeds defying gravity.

But most of all she longed for Alexis... The girl she left behind.

Mona found it ironic. After her ex ratted her to the police she swore that she would never let anyone have that power over her. That she would never wear her heart on her sleeve again. She built this impenetrable fortress around herself so that no one could enter and know the real her.

But Alexis managed to do that by just smiling at her.

The way their hands fit perfectly into each other's... The way that all her worries would go away when Alex was in her arms... The way that they both pushed each other, looked out for each other and challenged each other...

Mona had never witnessed such a feeling of companionship and she couldn't help but fall for her.

I love you Mona... Those words haunted her but at the same time motivated her to keep going through the motions of the day.

Her fantasies were abruptly interrupted by the guard kicking her combat boots. "Up and going, or do you want a month in solitary?"

And the thing she hated the most about this prison are the guards. I mean it was normal to hate them but this was some next level shit. She absolutely abhorred them to such a extent that she wanted to strangle them with her bare hands.

The number of times she was thrown into solitary was not even funny. And all of them were for the dumbest of the dumbest reasons.

Hell she was thrown in the hole for a fight she wasn't even part of.

All men are the same... Power hungry and drunk on greed. That's why girls are better.

So not wanting to risk living in the darkness for a month, she bit her tongue and got up before joining the other cellmates.

"What a dick." Eris Huang, an expert demolition muttered under her breath, so low that only Mona could hear it, causing her to snort.

In the six months she was here, she was low-key glad that she met Eris. They two met when Mona was moved into Eris' cell. Both were strong willed, hard headed and sarcastic woman so it wasn't really surprising that they became fast friends.

"Tell me about it. One of these days he is gonna piss me off so bad that I will end up castrating him with a blunt knife."

"Oof. I will hold him down and break his legs." Eris offered causing Mona to smirk. I like this girl.

"Anyways, I have a shift at the library so meet you later." Eris spoke.

"Get me another notebook if possible."

"What are you writing? A love letter?" Eris teased which made Mona roll her eyes but she wasn't very far off from the truth.

"A lady never tells." Mona answered causing Eris to chuckle as she took a left to go to the basement.

Mona reached her cell and she felt the the cell gate close behind her with a loud clang, which resonated in her ribcage.

Sure, hanging out in the yard and working in the workshop was a welcome distraction but staying in her small cell for more than 17 hours would make a girl lonely.

So, in all these hours of loneliness, sadness and hopelessness Mona found some sort of solace in writing about her dreams, list of things she was going to do once she was out, her aspirations... But most importantly, how much she missed Alex and how she wished to be by her side.

So settling into the corner of her bunk, she opened the notebook with tattered pages so that she could write.

Dear Alex, I know I told you to not let me imprison you but that's not applicable to me because you are always on my mind. It's hard to forget you. I miss you so much....

Do you know what day it is today? It's the fifth... Or I assume so because there is no calendar here. We aren't told what date, month, year it is. It's just days which sinks into the lonely nights and the cycle continues.

It's been six months since I last saw you... And I guess it just hit me hard.

It's just cruel how little time we had together.

I still remember that night. How happy we were in that cute little prom of yours. I still remember how heartbroken you were when I betrayed you.

But you didn't let it break you.

I still remember the way you took down those bastards. I still remember how fucking proud I felt on that moment. I still remember how I took a bullet for you and the shock that coloured your face.

And I know the thoughts which ran at your head in that moment. "Someone actually cares enough for me to take a bullet for me."

I'm here to tell you that yes, I took a bullet for you and I would do it a thousand times over just to prove that I love you and I care about you. I'm here to tell you that you are worth it and you deserve all the love in the world.

I wish I could hold you in my arms and tell you all of this but... Life loves fucking with me and you got caught as collateral.

It's just... Hard some days. Sure I have made friends with some other criminals and tried to make this fuckery my new normal but I'm only human. I'm few moments away from sinking to rock bottom, as shocking as that may sound.

You always perceived me as an aloof, careless and a strong badass but that changed when I met you.

Sure I was always strong but you make me stronger. You and me... We both are like two knives sharpening each other. Pushing each other to reach new heights of awesomeness.

But, I also want to worry for you. I want to appreciate you. I want to wake up next to you and I want to love you.

I often wish how we would have met if I had not gone down the wrong path. Would we have met at some pub? Or in some Ivy League college? Or some frat party?

People often say that you shouldn't waste time thinking about the things that could have been but when you are in a prison with nothing but time, that's all you seem to do.

So yeah, you are the only thing preventing me from going insane.

I think that's enough emotional bullshit for today and I'm low-key relieved that you aren't reading these letters, of me talking like a sap.

But one thing is for sure- I love you.

Yours, Mona.

She heard the electric buzzer and the door of her cell opened. Eris walked in with an impassive face with a guard standing at the entrance. He shut the cell gate and walked away.

Mona's eyes narrowed as she sat up straight. Wait a minute-

She waited for the guard to be far away before she spoke up. "You have a plan."

Eris turned the light off of the cell and plopped on to the bed opposite Mona's.

"Smartie. Always knew I did a good job of recruiting you."

"But how? Do you remember the last time you failed and ended up in the hole for a month and a half?!"

"Yes I do remember but this is foolproof. We have outside help."

"... I'm listening."

"Do you speak thief?" She asked which made Mona scoff in disbelief.

"Obviously. I have stolen cars and kidnapped people. Obviously I'm no amateur."

Eris proceeded to explain how her friends Rye and some other chick had come up with a plan. She listened with complete attention and only stopped her to ask valid questions.

"So... Are you in?"

Mona tried weighing the pros and cons. It's sounded a tad bit unrealistic and far fetched. There were a couple of loose ends which made her hesitate.

Eris noticed that and grasped her hand. "See Mona, no escape plan is perfect. This is a rough draft and we will work out the kinks. But remember, the three crucial things an escape plan needs is- Luck, faith and determination. We don't know about what lady luck has in store but, we sure can have faith and determination."

"I know that you hate it here and I know the punishment of escaping is harsh but what's wrong in trying? We are already suffering as it is, what's a little more? And I see that fire in your eyes, M."

"The fire to break free and the fire to go back to your girl."

Mona looked up and the momentary joy of getting to see Alexis soon. Adrenaline courses through her veins, causing her heart to beat faster.

Eris leaned forward, her voice intense. "So tell me- Would you like to blow this joint or rot in here for the next five years wishing you could have atleast tried?"

Mona's eyes met hers and a smirk formed in her face. Reaching forward she shook Eris's hands, sealing the deal. "What the hell. This is without doubt the stupidest plan you've ever had. Of course I'm in."

Don't worry Alexis, I'm coming home.

Hope you liked it 😊

Mona x MC Taglist : @kamilahsayeet2063 @kaitlynliaofanxx @vampiregirlsblog @made-me-deep-blue

Permanent Tag list: @trappedinfandoms @oofchoices @agent-breakdance @rookie-ramsey @dailydoseofchoices @colossalpainintheass @siaramsey @raleigheffingcarrera @kaavyaethanramsey @theeccentricbibliophile @ac27dj @ramseysno1rookie @justanotherrookie @openheart12 @jamespotterthefirst @checkurwindow @chasingrobbie @junggoku @bellcat2010 @choicesstan1 @mvalentine @crazynutella @hatescapsicum @dr-ramseys-rookie @lilypills @vampireblissblog @decadentwinnerjudgedream @choicesficwriterscreations @nooruleman @anonymously-cool @sanvivrma

Wacky Drabblers: @ao719 @axwalker @bbrandy2002 @bebepac @bitchloveskcbaseball @blackcatkita @bobasheebaby @burnsoslow @dcbbw @debramcg1106 @doriansapprentice @emceesynonymroll @everythingchoices @flutistbyday2020 @jessiembruno @katedrakeohd @kingliam-rys @liamrysandme @sophie-and-shizuku @loveellamae @lucy-268 @mrschoicesobsessed @no-one-u-know @pedudley @queenrileyrose @ravenpuff02 @romanticatheart-posts @sirbeepsalot @speedyoperarascalparty @starrystarrytrouble @storyofmychoices @texaskitten30 @txemrn @utterlyinevitable @walkerswhiskeygirl

#anushka writes #mona x mc #mona #rod mona #mona rod #ride or die #ride or die: a bad boy romance #rodappreaciationweek #rodaw #rod appreciation week #eris huang #eris thm #the heist: monaco #choices stories we play #playchoices #choices #choices stories you play #pixelberry

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larinah · 3 years ago

Link

August 20th, 19—. I HAVE HAD what I believe to be the most remarkable day in my life, and while the events are still fresh in my mind, I wish to put them down on paper as clearly as possible. Let me say at the outset that my name is James Clarence Withencroft. I am forty years old, in perfect health, never having known a day’s illness. By profession I am an artist, not a very successful one, but I earn enough money by my black-and-white work to satisfy my necessary wants. My only near relative, a sister, died five years ago, so that I am independent. I breakfasted this morning at nine, and after glancing through the morning paper I lighted my pipe and proceeded to let my mind wander in the hope that I might chance upon some subject for my pencil. The room, though door and windows were open, was oppressively hot, and I had just made up my mind that the coolest and most comfortable place in the neighbourhood would be the deep end of the public swimming bath, when the idea came. I began to draw. So intent was I on my work that I left my lunch untouched, only stopping work when the clock of St. Jude’s struck four. The final result, for a hurried sketch, was, I felt sure, the best thing I had done.

It showed a criminal in the dock immediately after the judge had pronounced sentence. The man was fat—enormously fat. The flesh hung in rolls about his chin; it creased his huge, stumpy neck. He was clean shaven (perhaps I should say a few days before he must have been clean shaven) and almost bald. He stood in the dock, his short, clumsy fingers clasping the rail, looking straight in front of him. The feeling that his expression conveyed was not so much one of horror as of utter, absolute collapse.

There seemed nothing in the man strong enough to sustain that mountain of flesh.

I rolled up the sketch, and without quite knowing why, placed it in my pocket. Then with the rare sense of happiness which the knowledge of a good thing well done gives, I left the house.

I believe that I set out with the idea of calling upon Trenton, for I remember walking along Lytton Street and turning to the right along Gilchrist Road at the bottom of the hill where the men were at work on the new tram lines.

From there onwards I have only the vaguest recollection of where I went. The one thing of which I was fully conscious was the awful heat, that came up from the dusty asphalt pavement as an almost palpable wave. I longed for the thunder promised by the great banks of copper-coloured cloud that hung low over the western sky.

I must have walked five or six miles, when a small boy roused me from my reverie by asking the time.

It was twenty minutes to seven.

When he left me I began to take stock of my bearings. I found myself standing before a gate that led into a yard bordered by a strip of thirsty earth, where there were flowers, purple stock and scarlet geranium. Above the entrance was a board with the inscription—

CHAS. ATKINSON MONUMENTAL MASON WORKER IN ENGLISH AND ITALIAN MARBLES

From the yard itself came a cheery whistle, the noise of hammer blows, and the cold sound of steel meeting stone. A sudden impulse made me enter. A man was sitting with his back towards me, busy at work on a slab of curiously veined marble. He turned round as he heard my steps and I stopped short. It was the man I had been drawing, whose portrait lay in my pocket. He sat there, huge and elephantine, the sweat pouring from his scalp, which he wiped with a red silk handkerchief. But though the face was the same, the expression was absolutely different. He greeted me smiling, as if we were old friends, and shook my hand. I apologised for my intrusion. “Everything is hot and glary outside,” I said. “This seems an oasis in the wilderness.” “I don’t know about the oasis,” he replied, “but it certainly’s hot, as hot as hell. Take a seat, sir!” He pointed to the end of the gravestone on which he was at work, and I sat down. “That’s a beautiful piece of stone you’ve got hold of,” I said. He shook his head. “In a way it is,” he answered; “the surface here is as fine as anything you could wish, but there’s a big flaw at the back, though I don’t expect you’d ever notice it. I could never make really a good job of a bit of marble like that. It would be all right in the summer like this; it wouldn’t mind the blasted heat. But wait till the winter comes. There’s nothing quite like frost to find out the weak points in stone.” “Then what’s it for?” I asked. The man burst out laughing. “You’d hardly believe me if I was to tell you it’s for an exhibition, but it’s the truth. Artists have exhibitions: so do grocers and butchers; we have them too. All the latest little things in headstones, you know.” He went on to talk of marbles, which sort best withstood wind and rain, and which were easiest to work; then of his garden and a new sort of carnation he had bought. At the end of every other minute he would drop his tools, wipe his shining head, and curse the heat. I said little, for I felt uneasy. There was something unnatural, uncanny, in meeting this man. I tried at first to persuade myself that I had seen him before, that his face, unknown to me, had found a place in some out-of-the-way corner of my memory, but I knew that I was practising little more than a plausible piece of self-deception. Mr. Atkinson finished his work, spat on the ground, and got up with a sigh of relief. “There! what do you think of that?” he said, with an air of evident pride. The inscription which I read for the first time was this—

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES CLARENCE WITHENCROFT BORN JAN. 18TH, 1860 HE PASSED AWAY VERY SUDDENLY ON AUGUST 20TH, 19— “In the midst of life we are in death.”

FOR SOME TIME I sat in silence. Then a cold shudder ran down my spine. I asked him where he had seen the name. “Oh, I didn’t see it anywhere,” replied Mr. Atkinson. “I wanted some name, and I put down the first that came into my head. Why do you want to know?” “It’s a strange coincidence, but it happens to be mine.” He gave a long, low whistle. “And the dates?” “I can only answer for one of them, and that’s correct.” “It’s a rum go!” he said. But he knew less than I did. I told him of my morning’s work. I took the sketch from my pocket and showed it to him. As he looked, the expression of his face altered until it became more and more like that of the man I had drawn. “And it was only the day before yesterday,” he said, “that I told Maria there were no such things as ghosts!” Neither of us had seen a ghost, but I knew what he meant. “You probably heard my name,” I said. “And you must have seen me somewhere and have forgotten it! Were you at Clacton-on-Sea last July?” I had never been to Clacton in my life. We were silent for some time. We were both looking at the same thing, the two dates on the gravestone, and one was right. “Come inside and have some supper,” said Mr. Atkinson. His wife is a cheerful little woman, with the flaky red cheeks of the country-bred. Her husband introduced me as a friend of his who was an artist. The result was unfortunate, for after the sardines and watercress had been removed, she brought out a Doré Bible, and I had to sit and express my admiration for nearly half an hour. I went outside, and found Atkinson sitting on the gravestone smoking. We resumed the conversation at the point we had left off. “You must excuse my asking,” I said, “but do you know of anything you’ve done for which you could be put on trial?” He shook his head. “I’m not a bankrupt, the business is prosperous enough. Three years ago I gave turkeys to some of the guardians at Christmas, but that’s all I can think of. And they were small ones, too,” he added as an afterthought. He got up, fetched a can from the porch, and began to water the flowers. “Twice a day regular in the hot weather,” he said, “and then the heat sometimes gets the better of the delicate ones. And ferns, good Lord! they could never stand it. Where do you live?” I told him my address. It would take an hour’s quick walk to get back home. “It’s like this,” he said. “We’ll look at the matter straight. If you go back home tonight, you take your chance of accidents. A cart may run over you, and there’s always banana skins and orange peel, to say nothing of fallen ladders.” He spoke of the improbable with an intense seriousness that would have been laughable six hours before. But I did not laugh. “The best thing we can do,” he continued, “is for you to stay here till twelve o’clock. We’ll go upstairs and smoke; it may be cooler inside.” To my surprise I agreed.

WE ARE SITTING now in a long, low room beneath the eaves. Atkinson has sent his wife to bed. He himself is busy sharpening some tools at a little oilstone, smoking one of my cigars the while. The air seems charged with thunder. I am writing this at a shaky table before the open window. The leg is cracked, and Atkinson, who seems a handy man with his tools, is going to mend it as soon as he has finished putting an edge on his chisel. It is after eleven now. I shall be gone in less than an hour. But the heat is stifling. It is enough to send a man mad.

#william fryer harvey #august heat #august 20 #well i don't know why...it's just that i'm sitting here sweating again in mid august in portland

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megalony · 4 years ago

Text

She’s a good girl- Part 6

Here is the latest part of my murderer! Ben Hardy series, thank you for all the lovely feedback so far I hope you all enjoy it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Series taglist: @onceuponadetectivedemigod @lelifesaver

Series masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is a good girl from a church-going family and her brother, Joe is trying to put Ben behind bars. But when (Y/n) starts to fall for the dangerous killer, things get complicated.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's lovely, thank you." (Y/n) smiled gently over at her parents who were sitting on the sofa to her right as she folded the cherry coloured dress neatly on her lap before placing it back in the pink bag it came in.

The dress was a lovely shade of cherry blossom that (Y/n) hadn't seen before and she was sure the colour would suit her well, but the actual dress itself needed changing. There were frills over the arms that would be irritating and look rather childlike and there were a few dark pink lace layers over the top and flowers that would make (Y/n) look sixteen at the eldest glance. She didn't want to dress up like a doll anymore or look like a baby girl, she wanted to look older and sophisticated and mature.

It was clear that when she altered the dress, taking off all the lace and the layers and flowers her parents would wonder why and they wouldn't be best pleased. But when (Y/n) had done that to one of her dresses before they saw how it looked better without the added touches that made it look far too much. The dress would look lovely just plain cherry blossom with the hem hanging around her knees.

So far for her birthday (Y/n) had gotten some rather good gifts this year from all of her family. Her aunt and uncle didn't know what she liked and disliked so they often just went for make up and nail polish that (Y/n) rarely found herself using. Her grandmother always got her something unique and different, this year it was a collection of various sea shells that (Y/n) had found herself fascinated with this morning.

Her parents on the other hand, were a different matter entirely. Nineteen was just a number to them, they couldn't see (Y/n) as mature or her own person or even as a grown up woman, they still saw a young girl they had to wrap up in bubble wrap to protect. The dress was the gift that was most childlike, but they had given her some movies she wanted to watch and a few ornaments and collection figures she liked which made this one of her better birthdays so far.

Cora had even given her a collection of notebooks, pens and stationary packs since she was supposed to be interning as a journalist but the gifts would do (Y/n) well for her writing.

"Here you go, I hope you like it."

Moving over to the armchair (Y/n) was sitting in, Joe perched himself on the arm next to her and held out a medium sized box with midnight stars wrapping paper. (Y/n) looked up at her brother quizzically before daring to remove the lid and peek inside, wondering what Joe would have chosen to get her this year. Joe was by far the best at getting presents for (Y/n), he always knew what she would want and he treated her like an adult rather than a baby.

(Y/n) couldn't stop the smile from flooding her face when she saw a wrapped collection of three books, a specific series she had been meaning to read for a few months now. But in the corner of the box was a smaller, very small square box that looked like it was for jewellery.

Jewellery wasn't something (Y/n) always wore except for her cross, but she did alternate between a few rings and bracelets she owned. But none of her jewellery was anything posh or expensive or close to her heart so she didn't wear them all the time. Her cross was the only thing she wore every day without fail and slept in.

Her hands were slow and careful when picking up the box and when she opened it, she bit on her lip to stop herself from smiling too much when she saw there was a pair of silver heart earrings. (Y/n)'s own earrings weren't anything special, she only had small golden stud earrings that she usually wore because their mother didn't think any other kind was appropriate the same as school policies usually state.

"They're beautiful, thank you." (Y/n) was careful when placing them back in the box on her lap before she turned to her left so she could wrap her arms around Joe who chuckled, pulling her into his side so he could kiss the top of her head.

When they pulled away, (Y/n) put the lid back on the box before setting it down beside the chair with her few other presents.

"I'll go get us some more drinks." Linda smiled at the pair before she got up and headed through to the kitchen with Paul following behind her and Cora had already left for work half an hour ago, leaving just Joe and (Y/n) in the living room together.

"So... what'd you get from this guy you met?"

Joe got up and moved to sit on the sofa so he was still next to (Y/n) but not too close so he could now see her properly. He leaned his arms on his thighs and clasped his hands together with a knowing smile on his lips and a look in his eyes that made him look like a cheeky teenager again. He had asked her every time he saw her about the 'guy she had met' but (Y/n) wouldn't say anything.

She couldn't find it in herself to be happy and talk about Ben because she would have to lie and tweak the truth and lying to Joe felt horrible. She couldn't do it without looking panicked so it was easier to say nothing at all.

"I haven't seen him today yet... I'm actually going to see him soon, but I'll have to tell him I'm going to Sarah's."

(Y/n) wasn't lying this time, she hadn't seen Ben for three days but he had called her this morning and he would be coming to pick her up in about ten minutes. He would wait where he usually did round the corner next to the church so he was out of sight of any of her family. (Y/n) had no idea what Ben had gotten her for her birthday, she told him not to get anything but he just shook his head with a grin that told her he had something in mind already.

"I'll tell mum I'm taking you out and I'll walk you to meet him, she won't comment if we head off together she'll be fine about it." Joe spoke as if it was nothing but he didn't look up to see the panic swirling in (Y/n)'s eyes.

She couldn't do that.

If she let Joe walk her out he would either see Ben and a showdown would happen or she would have to lead him around the block and make up some excuses so she could then go back to find Ben. She couldn't have either of them meeting, Ben would be cocky and himself and Joe would be fuming and searching for a reason to arrest him then and there. Not to mention how it would affect her relationship with Joe and if he would tell their family or not. No, Joe could not do that, it just couldn't happen.

"No, it's fine you don't have to do that."

"It's no bother, I'll just walk you to meet him then I'll leave, I won't cramp your style I promise." Joe shook his head teasingly but his smile started to slip when he noticed the panic written on (Y/n)'s face. "What? Don't you want me to meet him?" He tried to make his tone sound lighthearted and joking but there was a small ounce of hurt in his words.

(Y/n) had never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend before, Joe had never known her to be close to someone, he'd only seen her to have crushes on people before. He wanted to meet whoever was making her happy because he loved (Y/n) and he knew no one she chose for herself was going to be good enough for their parents. Joe just wanted to make sure that (Y/n) was happy because as long as he knew that, he would stand in her corner and fight for her against their parents if they kicked up a storm.

When (Y/n) pursed her lips and looked away for a moment, she could physically feel Joe's anguish. She leaned her head to the side as she looked back over at him, rubbing her hands together to try and calm herself down and try to think of what she could say that wouldn't hurt him.

"No, but it's nothing to do with you! I just... he's my secret, Joe. I've never had a secret or someone special before, I want to keep him to myself, just for a bit longer. I like having something that's mine that no one else knows about."

(Y/n) hoped Joe would understand and take her answer because she truly didn't want to hurt him, that was why he couldn't meet Ben, preferably ever. But she also couldn't let him meet Ben even if Ben wasn't a criminal on Joe's list to catch. He was hers, he was her secret and he was her first boyfriend, (Y/n) wasn't willing to share him with anyone, not even Joe. Having Ben as a secret was thrilling when (Y/n)'s life had always been boring, predictable and plain. And it was fun, having no one know who he was or anything about him.

"Okay, I get it, but you can't hide him away forever, I want to meet him at some point."

'You can't.'

(Y/n) was so tempted to say that he technically already had met him but she swallowed down the comment before it had chance to be spoken. She couldn't say anything that she thought like that in case she gave anything away. Ben had to be a proper secret, one that kept her tight-lipped around all of her family to keep him safe and protected.

"I know... I'm going to put those earrings in and then I think I'd better go and meet him. Thank you for the presents, they're the best I've been given."

Standing to her feet, (Y/n) leaned down to hug Joe once again before she took the earrings and headed out of the room, making her way up to her bedroom. When she went into her room her eyes instantly landed on the bag she'd packed and placed on her bed ready to take with her. It was almost a ritual that whenever she saw Ben, she would be staying the night at his place to the point he'd given her a drawer to leave some of her clothes at his place and her parents were now asking if she would be back in the evening or morning.

They weren't thrilled about her staying over at someone else's place but they realised there was nothing they could say or do that would stop (Y/n).

When the earrings were in and her bag was slung onto her shoulder, (Y/n) headed back downstairs and went into the kitchen were her parents were stood chatting to one another.

"I'm going to go over to Sarah's now." (Y/n) found her hand tightening around her bag when she saw the look her mother was giving her. She looked both bewildered and angry that (Y/n) would choose to go out and do what she liked on her birthday instead of staying home like she had done for the past eighteen years. She wanted to go out and do something different, why was that such a crime?

This was (Y/n)'s first birthday where she had a boyfriend, it was her first birthday to spend with someone other than her family and she was excited. She wanted to go out with Ben, even if it was just to go on a walk with him, she just wanted to be with him because he made her feel alive and excited and special and different.

"Now? But it's your birthday, when Cora gets back we could go out for something to eat, we always spend birthdays together."

(Y/n) scratched the side of her neck out of nervous habit, she so wanted to be head strong and brave like Ben, but she wasn't. Standing up to her parents was hard when she had always backed down and even though she was trying, it didn't seem to be getting any easier.

"I know... but I want to go out, we don't spend Joe's birthday together all day and Cora goes out with Tommy for her birthdays. Why can't I?"

"Go out where, to drink, to go to a club? Cora goes out for a meal with Tommy and Joe goes out with his work colleagues-"

"And I'm going out with my friends, it's no different. I'll be back later." (Y/n) spun round on her heels before her parents could stop and argue with her any longer. She could hear their raised voices as she hurried out the front door and she could also hear Joe trying to get them to understand, defending her like he always did.

He wouldn't be fighting in her corner if he knew who she was really going to see.

(Y/n) almost flew down the street to reach the church at the end of the large road. She passed by the metal fence in a whirl, bypassing the gate to get inside the church grounds and she rounded the side of the beacon building to see Ben standing on the path a few feet away.

He had a black button up shirt on that was rolled up to his elbows and matching black trousers, he had his curls falling near his eyes and he looked freshly shaven considering when (Y/n) saw him a few days ago he had a bit of stubble that she wasn't sure if she liked or not. She was used to seeing him clean cut every day so seeing him with stubble was different and if she saw it more often it might grow on her, but she liked him like this.

There was a half-finished cigarette held between his fingers that he was taking a drag of when (Y/n) came into sight. But he barely had the chance to breathe out the smoke in his lungs before (Y/n) was catapulting herself into his arms.

(Y/n) could feel the smoke moving from his lungs and into hers when he leaned down to kiss her but the feeling was almost intoxicating and she could taste the nicotine on his lips too.

"There's the birthday girl, how are you, doll?" Ben moved his hands to cup (Y/n)'s face, smiling at her in such a way that sent shivers running along to the tips of her toes. She could feel the end of the cigarette between his fingers against her cheek that was now tickling her until he moved it to hold it between his teeth in a manner he knew made (Y/n)'s knees weak.

"Much better now you're here, come on before Joe sees you."

(Y/n) reached up to kiss Ben's cheek before she took his hand and started walking down the path, dragging him behind her as she looked over her shoulder to make sure that Joe couldn't see them when she spotted him walking out of the house. She couldn't have him spying them and recognising Ben, from how he had been studying Ben and watching him Joe would definitely recognise him from a distance.

When they were safely behind the church and onto the next street over, (Y/n) slowed down so she could lean into Ben's side, looking up at him as he finished his cigarette and stubbed it beneath his shoe.

"So, what's the plan, where are we heading?" (Y/n) turned her head to look up at Ben, wondering what they were doing since he always had some idea of where they were going or what they were going to do.

The smile that formed on his lips was a new one (Y/n) hadn't seen before, it curved ever so slightly at one side like a straight line with one pointed edge and one brow rose as the other narrowed. (Y/n) could almost see his teeth and the way he leaned his head down near her own without saying anything made her heart jump in her chest. It was like he was sizing her up, analysing her for something and it made her feel like she was his prey.

But that look joined with the fact that he was a murderer, somehow didn't make (Y/n) feel afraid of him like it should have and she didn't know why. He should scare her, he should make her afraid and uneasy and back away and leave him but all she wanted to do was be around him more.

"Follow me." The way he whispered the words against the shell of her ear made him able to feel how she shivered and it made him kiss the junction between her ear and her neck, grazing his teeth ever so lightly against her skin before he pulled back like nothing had happened.

His hand tugged on hers and he pulled her along with him as he took the lead this time, moving a step in front so he could guide her to wherever he wanted them to go.

"Are you ready?"

Ben's words struck something inside of (Y/n) that made her stomach fill up with butterflies that took over her body. His voice was low and carnal and velvety but she had no idea what he was talking about or referring to. They were now at the end of the street but (Y/n) didn't know which way he wanted to walk since he stopped right at the end of the road. They could go straight on, turn left into a quieter street with fewer cars or go right into the next street.

"For what?"

"Do you trust me?"

(Y/n) knew the answer should have been no. She knew what he was capable of, what he did for a living and the kind of man he was. (Y/n) also knew her brother was dead set against him, but somehow, (Y/n) would place her life in his hands and trust him not to crush it.

"Yes."

As soon as that one word fell from her lips, (Y/n) squeaked when Ben spun her round so her back was pressed to his chest and his hands were placed in front of her eyes. (Y/n) held onto Ben's wrists so she could steady herself when he slowly nudged her to begin walking and she guessed they were going down the left road to the quieter area of town.

(Y/n) tried to place her feet carefully on the pavement so she didn't kick or trip over anything but when her foot scuffed against an uneven slab, Ben's right hand moved to stay over both her eyes and his left hand moved so his arm could wrap around her waist. He held her back to his chest, keeping her upright when she stumbled forward causing her to almost be lifted from the floor with the way he was holding her.

"Mind that." Ben mumbled against her ear when she started to laugh quietly and he knew if she were looking at him her eyes would have rolled. "Okay, here we go."

(Y/n) almost frowned in confusion when she realised that they hadn't walked very far down the road so she couldn't imagine where they were or what they were doing. She felt Ben gently moving her from the pavement onto the road and turning her to the side as they moved very slowly until they were almost shuffling before they came to a stop in what felt like the middle of the road.

Her heart was beating frantically against her chest to the point Ben should have seen her heart pushing against her ribs and she was sure he could feel her uneven breaths of anticipation against his arm. (Y/n) felt him kissing her temple before he slowly removed his hand from her eyes so he could wrap both arms around her middle, still holding her against his chest.

(Y/n) kept her eyes closed for a second longer just so she could try and hold her breath and keep the sense of wonder in her heart for a bit longer. She liked the anticipation and the wonder at what she was going to see, with her parents something like this rarely came with a good outcome, she was always faced with something that shocked her in a bad way. They either took her somewhere she didn't want to be or brought someone round she didn't get along with or they gave her something that made her heart drop to her stomach. But with Ben, she was hoping that wouldn't be the case.

When her eyes opened, (Y/n) felt her lips parting and forming a small smile but she couldn't find any words.

(Y/n) was staring at Ben's Mercedes that he hardly drove since he was usually in his Ford. He called the Ford his work car and he was always driving it, (Y/n) had been in the Mercedes once and she loved it but it was mainly in the garage hidden away because Ben didn't have time to get it out.

But there were L plates on the car.

All (Y/n) could do was turn her head until she was able to look up at Ben who was grinning at her stunned and confused expression.

"I'll give you a clue, I won't be driving today." Ben reached into his pocket to grab the keys for the car before he dangled them in front of (Y/n) until she gingerly reached out to hold them. It was like he had given her the world's most precious diamond and she was holding it so delicately so she didn't break it. He watched her fingers rub over the key as if making sure she wasn't imagining any of this.

"But..." (Y/n) didn't know what she was trying to say so she simply held the keys out and pointed at the car, dumbfounded.

She had her provisional license but she hadn't passed her test yet and (Y/n) certainly didn't have a car to practise in. Her mother didn't want her taking driving lessons yet and before Ben giving her a job (Y/n) didn't have the money to pay for lessons. All she had was Joe taking her out a few times to show her the ropes and Ben had shown her a few times too but that was it. (Y/n) thought that for the foreseeable future she would just be taking the bus and relying on Ben for lifts to work.

"I know you want to take your test soon and you need practise to do that, so you can start driving me around for a change, and I know you prefer the Mercedes."

Ben unravelled his arms from her waist so he could lean against the car, needing (Y/n) to say something but she was simply staring at him like she'd never seen him before in her life. He knew she wanted to drive to have her independence and driving was a big part of growing up, she wanted to show her family she was mature and a grown up and she seemed to like driving when he took her out.

He also noticed the way she looked at the Mercedes and how she always trailed her fingertips over it when they drove it once. It seemed to fascinate her and he thought if she was driving, she may as well drive the car she had taken a fancy to.

"What if I crash?"

A laugh escaped Ben's lips that he couldn't hide even when he tipped his head down to rub his hand at his face. This was not the reaction he thought he was going to get but it certainly was better than he anticipated.

"That's what insurance is for, baby."

"I'm not insured in that, I've never driven it before." Ben had taken her out in the Ford but he took her on back roads that weren't busy or hardly used because he didn't put (Y/n) on the insurance so if she did crash he would just say it was him driving. But (Y/n) didn't want to drive the Mercedes in case she crashed it, that felt like too much of a risk to take.

(Y/n) held tightly onto Ben's shoulders when he walked over to her and circled his arms around her waist, reeling her in until she was pulled close to his chest.

"Yes you are. You're insured on it with me and when you pass your test, the car will be changed into your name so you have something to drive. It's yours as soon as you get your license."

Ben thought for a moment that his words just washed over her head but he realised she heard every word he said when she stared at the car and had tears falling from her eyes. She looked almost unhappy at the thought but her arms quickly moved to circle around his neck before her face was buried in his chest and he could feel her crying against him.

"W-why would you do that for me? It's more than anyone's ever done for me... but it's too much. I don't d-deserve that or you." (Y/n) wiped her eyes with the back of her hand when she pulled back enough to look up at Ben but she couldn't stop crying.

No one treated her like a proper adult or listened to her or let her be herself before Ben came around. Joe warned her about him and made him seem like a heartless murderer who killed for the fun of it but from the moment he was in her life he made her feel special. He treated her like a proper person, like a grown up, he took an interest in her, he wanted to know her, he offered her a cigarette on their first meeting and he advised on alcohol and let her experiment with different drinks.

He was the first person she stayed out all night with and he was the first person she'd stayed over at their house with and he was her first lover, he was her first everything.

But giving her a car was too much. (Y/n) couldn't see why he would do this for her, she wasn't special, she wasn't different, she was plain and normal and she couldn't give him anything in return. If she never met Ben it would be years before (Y/n) even got the courage to try and get her license, let alone a car. If he never came along her life would have stayed the same and she would still be a good little girl doing what she was told without trying to live her life for herself.

He had no reason to give her a car because everything he did helped her, she didn't help him much in return.

"Don't say that."

Ben's words were almost forceful as he moved his hands to cup her face, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks to rid the tears from her face before he kissed her so sweetly in contrast to his words. It felt like she was melting and Ben was taking away every bad feeling and event that had ever happened.

"No one treats you like they should, no one cares enough or listens to you and you have to lie to everyone just to be yourself and be happy. You deserve to be happy and to drive if you want and I don't use the car so it's yours, you can't give back a present, it's rude." (Y/n) managed a smile at his words but she still couldn't believe he was doing this for her.

He had no reason to be this kind to her.

"Baby, I thought you would have realised by now that whatever I do or say when I'm with you is because I love you."

(Y/n) couldn't breathe.

Her feet stumbled on the spot, her stomach tensed and her lungs felt like balloons that had suddenly burst in her chest when those words hit her ears. Her hands reached up to clamp down around his arms in order to ensure that she didn't fall down.

No one had ever said that to her before and really meant it. Her family said it but that was always going to be different, her friends said it but that was friendship and it was a different kind of love that (Y/n) valued. Ben saying it was something extraordinary because (Y/n) had never been with someone before and she'd never known someone she felt like this about before. She'd never felt so much love for one person and it scared her even more because she knew who Ben was and what he did when he wasn't around her.

"You love me?"

"'Course I do, I've never met someone as sweet, innocent and different as you before. I don't know how not to love you."

Ben grinned when (Y/n) tangled her hands into the short hairs at the back of his head to tug him down to her despite slightly digging the car keys into his neck, whimpering at his words that made her heart spasm. She didn't know how to deal with hearing that when no one had said anything like that to her before. Ben dug his fingers into her hips when he heard her mumbling 'I love you' against his lips like she was praying to him and he loved it.

Ben finally pulled back to breathe but he leaned his forehead against her own, looking into her watering eyes in such adoration (Y/n) had never seen in his pupils before.

"Come on baby, drive me somewhere."

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #imagine #BoRhap #joe mazzello #joe mazello imagine #murderer! ben #shes a good girl

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ajokeformur-ray · 5 years ago

Note

headcanons for helping you dealing with your horrible period? (if this goes against ur no childbirth/children rule then ignore it) xx

Nope, periods are more than fine for me to write about sksksk it’s just pregnancy/childbirth/actual children I won’t write for Reasons I won’t go into lmao I hope you don’t mind but, like, I fell asleep last night thinking about period!comfort cuddles so this is gonna be a huge long scenarios for our boi

Okay so swearing, periods, blood mentions etc. you all know the drill here.

Combined word count for the three scenarios: 3, 029.

Arthur // WC: 952.

Mentions of cramps, all that stuff. Fluff.

Arthur wasn’t a stranger to periods. He had been raised with his mother and so he knew about the different sanitary items, the fact that chocolate made it all better, the fact that the whole process was natural… but that didn’t mean that he liked seeing you clutch your lower stomach in one careful hand, a hand over your mouth to hide the way it contorted when you were in pain. The whole thing made his heart hurt and he didn’t think he could take much more of it.

… Which made him even more worried for you. If he was feeling this way, then how were you feeling? It was written all over you and Arthur ran a hand through his dark curls as he stood from the sofa, heading to the cabinet in the kitchen which contained medications, first aid supplies, and the like.

Even though he knew the precise minute to the hour of your last dose of medication, he still felt the need to ask you. Silence met his question and for a brief moment he wondered if he had actually asked you aloud, or if the words had just reverberated inside his skull so that he was waiting for an answer which would never come.

Arthur walked back out into the living room and saw that, curled up in the foetal position tucked up underneath his blanket, had you fallen asleep. He made a soft noise of appreciation. You felt safe enough in his presence to fall asleep. For Arthur, that was one of the biggest compliments you could ever pay him. He crossed the room again and hovered before you, unsure of how to proceed. he wanted you to sleep with your head on his lap, his fingers in your hair… He wanted you to wake up feeling safe and whole and loved, especially because you were suffering and there was nothing he could do about it.

With movements so gentle that his slowness almost irritated him and yet he still felt like he wasn’t being careful enough did Arthur ease spidery fingers underneath your head, his palm moving to cup the nape of your neck. With fluid yet stilted movements did he then sit down, lifting your head just right so that he could set it down on his lap. Your hair was like a halo about your face as it spilled over his lap.

“I hope you feel better when you wake up.” A hushed whisper as his fingers slid into your hair, moving strands from your face so that you didn’t wake up. His other hand came down to cup your lower stomach, his thumb slipping underneath the material of your shirt to rub soothingly across your skin.

Arthur didn’t know that you were awake, so he jumped when, lost in his daydreams as he stared down at you, did one of your hands come up, your own fingers running through his hair. His hair was so soft and it fell through your touch like ink in water. You briefly wondered if he would ever let you brush it through for him; it would be just another way to show him the depths of your love for him. You also considered how fluffy his hair would be afterwards and you smiled despite yourself.

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Your voice was rough. You hadn’t spoken for a while, too uncomfortable and pain filled were you. Despite your pain, you truly were relaxed in this moment. Arthur had just treated you with such sympathy and tenderness and you longed to do the same for him. It was why you had reached up to return the favour.

“I-I’m sorry, I - “

You shook your head, finally opening your eyes to smile up at the love of your life. You saw his throat convulse and you rushed to reassure him. “No, Artie. It’s more than okay.” You smiled, leaned up and did your best to hide your discomfort. Arthur knew what you were after, so highly attuned to you was he, and his lips met yours softly. He kissed you like it was the first and last time he would ever get to kiss you, and you cursed your body for seeking to protect itself during such an inconvenient time. Fuck, you loved him. You did. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“I’ll always look after you. Always.”

That was true, and it was why you always did your best to love and look after Arthur harder than he took care of you; he was a natural caregiver but only because he had been forced to be from such a young age that it was criminal. Any slight excuse you could find to do something for him, to say that you loved him, to touch him and show him affection did you use. You were careful to watch his moods to gauge how your actions would be received, but most often was Arthur so grateful for even the tiniest of things that it made your heart bleed.

“I love you.” Arthur smiled as he bent to kiss you again, his back beginning to protest at the awkward angle he contorted himself into to do so.

“I love you too.” One more kiss and then you laid back down, shifted around to get more comfortable, but you kept that raised hand rested on Arthur’s shoulder, your fingers pressing down slightly so that you could feel his pulse beneath your touch. It was a strange way to cuddle but then, who was to judge you? Two lost souls had come together so beautifully one night in Gotham, and from that one encounter did you experience serendipity.

Carnival // WC: 1, 089.

Swearing, angst, some fluff, mentions of painkillers and prescribed medications.

As horrible as your cramps were, as horrible as the nausea that swept through you whenever you moved was, as awful as being on your period was and as much as you hated this time of the month with every nerve in your body which currently seemed alight with pain and discomfort, there was nothing you could do to stop the ear splitting grin on your face when you heard the front door open and close, the sound of the safety chain being drawn across it seconds later.

Arthur was home!

You angled yourself carefully from where you were laying down across the sofa, tipping your head upwards towards the ceiling, the crown of your head cushioned by the arm of the sofa, a wince flashing across your face, as your eyes searched for Arthur.

A flash of a green, worn wig, dark curls peeking out from under it. Bright colours. You took in the painted face, worn away in some places to reveal natural skill and thickly applied in others. Your smile seemed only to deepen, though there was an underlying current of sadness as you realised that Arthur wasn’t home yet, but Carnival was. He had had a truly bad day, then, for him to come home as his happy clown self. You wondered if he would tell you what happened today.

You shook off the train of thought, intent on greeting him as warmly as you could. You had to give him something good to think about. “Carnival~!” A happy noise in greeting, as like a child wanting to be picked up did you stretch both arms out, being mindful of the way everything from your boobs to your knees ached and hurt. Your conflicting emotions at seeing your favourite party clown in the face of so much pain and discomfort from the two of you acted as a slight painkiller; the intense feelings coursing through your body dulled for just a moment as Carnival made a comical face and, with exaggerated steps because of his huge shoes, made his way over to you.

He bent at the waist, a real smile accompanying the painted lined one, and the back of a hand pressed to your forehead. Carnival rarely spoke, it was part of his act, so in this gesture was a question: how are you? Even if you didn’t know the way he used his hands to speak as Carnival; his mind too broken to come back into himself just yet or he was simply happy being Carnival for a while longer, the way his green eyes roamed all over your body as he checked you over would have translated the silent question for you.

You knew him well, though, and so you pouted, using your extended arms to wrap around Carnival’s neck, tugging him down so that he was hugging you. Carnival supported his weight with one arm on the back of the sofa, the other on the arm as he allowed you to nuzzle your face into his neck. Shit, but he was exhausted. He had been on his feet for eight hours non-stop, spinning signs and dancing and being ignored, beaten down, yelled at, insulted, belittled… He had been terrorised on the train, had multiple laughing fits which he hadn’t had his card for because someone obviously hadn’t returned it to him from the last time he had pulled it out and… he sighed into the skin of your neck. He was just so tired.

Arthur felt himself coming back into his body but he pushed back against the awareness, thinking of his work name over and over, like a mantra, until like sitting in a hot bath did he sink into his life’s work, his safety net, his disguise… Carnival pulled away from you after several long, comforting moments, and he booped your nose with an index. You giggled, cupped his face in your hands - really, you could see how bad he was feeling. You knew each other so well and you knew, even with you in his life, was he still massively struggling. Your love could aid but not heal, and it made your heart break by the day.

With that same index did Carnival tap your bottom lip, his own turning up into a closed-mouth, thin lipped smile. Smile for me? Your eyes stung from the pain rushing through your body as you slowly, so slowly, sat up, Carnival’s hand on the small of your back as he tried to help you as best as he could. He was more than used to periods, having only been around his mother for his entire life, and he knew how to help you from months of feeling helpless as he watched you take care of yourself even though you truly didn’t want to, you just wanted to curl up in a ball and die until your period was over.

Seeing Carnival so close to you, his green eyes watery at the sight of how much pain you were in and, indeed, some of those tears were for himself, too, so worn down and damaged was he, made you smile sadly. Carnival frowned, tapped your lip again, and you shook your head. “I’ll be okay. Just want cuddles.” Like a puppy did he visibly perk up and this time you did smile. “Get ready for bed with me?” It was nine in the evening already, so long and hard the impossible hours did Arthur work, and by the time you had taken care of yourselves - washed, taken your medications, eaten, gotten dressed into pyjamas and, if you had any energy left, maybe you would do the dishes, too - it’d be closer to ten, and then… oh, and then, you could fold Carnival in your arms and press kisses to his hair, a hand firmly pressed over his heart so that he was grounded, so that he knew you were real, that you were with him and that you loved him.

At some point during these cuddles would he turn over to face you so that he could fall asleep with your angelic face being his last sight of the day and his first sight come morning; small moments like these almost made his long, arduous weeks and exhausting, frustrating life worth it. Almost. He would never be okay, too damaged and fractured was his psyche, and your relationship was more trying than most, but you had each other and that would have to be enough. It had to be.

Joker // WC: 988.

This one is pure fluff. Mentions of painkillers, cramps etc.

You awoke slowly, no longer feeling Joker’s arms loosely wrapped around you. Sleep would have easily found you again were it not for the pain that was spiking through your abdomen. You hissed quietly through your teeth as you shifted, curling in on yourself. Joker’s back was to you and carefully did you shift around, reaching an arm out into the impenetrable darkness to touch Joker’s back. With your hand resting palm flat against his bare skin did you close your eyes, taking deep and measured breaths.

At the first touch of your warm hand was Joker roused from his sleep. He had always been a light sleeper so even your moving around a bit too much could wake him up. Sometimes did it greatly annoy him, most especially when he wanted to sleep, but he was aware of your period and of how debilitating the whole process could be, so on this night was he only concerned. There was an undercurrent of love, too, because in the darkness so pain filled and sleepy were you, you had literally and metaphorically reached out to him for comfort and support. Why, that squeezed his battered heart as surely as those three little words always did whenever you spoke them with tender affections.

“Angel?” At the sound of his voice did your eyes slip closed blissfully, simultaneously yet at odds with yourself did you feel relieved but guilty - Joker got so little sleep between his insomnia and nightmares - that he was awake. “Are you okay?”

You bit down hard on your bottom lip and shuffled as carefully as you could closer to where Joker was lying. You were glad that he couldn’t see your face, for you were making no attempts to disguise your pain and discomfort. You had had worse period pains, this was true, but Joker would be upset with and because of you, feeling that you didn’t need him if you didn’t let him take care of and comfort you. He felt helpless enough as it was knowing that, for all the stomach rubs, painkillers, scalp massages and cuddles in the world was there truly nothing he could do to stop your pain. Sure, he was Joker now, but the man he had always been was still right there and so many of his insecurities, anxieties and neuroses remained.

“Hurts.” Oh, help you, as you spoke that word you realised that it did hurt, and in the face of the comfort you dearly craved did you feel better and worse; you wanted everything Joker would give you this night. His quiet, patient tone even though you had woken him up made tears well up in your eyes, their compositions of pain and love.

Joker cooed and the mattress moved underneath him as he turned to face you, though the room was pitch black and you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. In the absence of one sense were the others heightened and just as your pain had increased upon the realisation that your cramps had crossed the border between discomfort and actual pain, did Joker seep into all that you were. He was all you could smell; greasepaint (though he always came to bed with a bare face), cigarettes (the smell faded because he hadn’t smoked for some hours; it was a wonder he hadn’t already sparked one up), and that delicate cologne he liked to wear when he was with you. He was all you could hear, for once the grimy streets of Gotham were almost eerily quiet, and it felt like there were no other people in the world besides the two of you. This small pocket of time stolen in the very early hours of the morning was just for the both of you. All you wanted to ever know again was Joker.

So deep were your thoughts that you spoke one of them aloud - you spoke his name with such reverence that it brought tears into his eyes and now was it his turn to be glad that you couldn’t see his face.

“I’m here, darling. I’m not going anywhere.” This was a familiar mantra between the two of you; it kept the both of you grounded in the moment. The one thing you both feared above most other worldly fears was the loss of the other and it wasn’t uncommon after a tense day or a heated discussion that one or both of you would jolt awake with your heart in your throat, images of the other leaving you behind your eyelids. It was as meaningful a sentence to the two of you as ‘I love you’. Indeed, you had many ways in your relationship to say those three words without actually saying them at all, and you cherished all the small, seemingly insignificant ways in which you loved each other.

“Hold me?” You whimpered as pain coursed through you and Joker made another soft noise as he hurried to do just that, his hands ghosting over your body, like a butterfly did they never land in one place for too long before they were flying around again. He didn’t know where to touch you, how to hold you, without hurting you.

“Y/N, how - “ Slightly frustrated with himself did Joker ask you for help and you smiled, your hand searching for him. He was close, very close, and your fingers curled around his hand easily. For all your fumbling around, for all that you couldn’t see in the dark, the two of you found a position that was comfortable for the both of you, and it was here in Joker’s arms that the rest of the world faded away.

“You’re my Joker and I love you.” A sleepy mumble.

The bed shook lightly with Joker’s high pitched giggle. “I love you too.” His voice was thick with amusement and it chased you into sleep.

The ending of Joker’s one had me screaming into my hands omgggggg it’s so soft I can’t! I live for fluffy!Joker ugh he’s got my whole heart I love him so dearly *screams some more*… Not gonna lie that’s something I would actually say to him lmaooooo

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @insomniabird @mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft @help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92 @that-s-life @dopey-girl-blogs @seeking-dreamland @sweetheart-syndrome @heartxfdesire @xmusichealsthesoulx @0callmejude0 @the-one-that-likes-riddles @hannibalsslut @folliaght @freeeshavacadoo @bingewatchingmylifegoby @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything @okamiredfoxx @sp0okysp0oky @the-pandorabox @mardema @jibanyyan @honeyflvredcoughdrop @emissarydecksetter @jokerfleckk @epidendroideae @chuuntas @stillmabel @pumpkinpeyes @onehystericalqueenposts @the-jokers-wolf @nalsswa @justahyena @arianatheangelworld @soullessblondbitch @gothamslittlejester @twentyonestarrynights @sirianfromsixties @kissmeclownman @joker-is-my-hero @lazyloosah @lovesickkloxx @ladylovelyluna @live-love-loki @clownerybbxx @tragicarthur @anmach123 @rommie-chan @arthurflock @lucyboytom @anti-peach @immortal-bi-bitch @hearthurfleck @crazieroutthere @curlystark @hailmary-yramliah @sagyunaro @playinthedarktillitsgoldenagain @jokeringcutio @xenthefox @mijachula@stcrrynightsinneverlcnd @cheyennejonas22 @mrjfleck @pauli1100 @smitten-susie @actualkey @callmejokerfleck @jaylovesbats @itsforyoubitch @ridiculousnerd @killerprotector3579 @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend @fantasticwinnerclodexpert @arthurs-sweater @pinkie44pie @tsukiakarinobara @prettyxlittlexpsychoxprincess @elodia-gahan @yours-mia @rustyt33th @parkdonghoons @lady-carnivals-stuff @hobi-hobi-kyo-kkyu @jupiturde @incognitofish @j-sux @nothing-but-a-comedy @tahliamalfoydepp

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devil-dxrling · 4 years ago

Text

SBR getting political, No.5

Pairing: Funny Valentine x Reader

Warnings: Loss, Smut

Words:

Summary: They finally get together for real this time.

Nightmares had haunted me that night. One mistake and everything would go to shreds. The morning of the trial dawned apon us slowly. I knew when I woke up that today I would wear the most simple thing I had ever worn. I wore an elaborate laced, vintage blouse; a simple, tan-coloured, pleated skirt; a pair of opaque, black tights, and a pair of Edwardian style, black and red, leather boots. Before walking out of the motel room, I put on my black, flat brimmed hat and walked to Dea. Off to court we go. My guns were holstered by my garters underneath my skirt, I could feel the leather as if it was second skin. After skipping breakfast, I began to ride down to the high court of Washington. It was a few blocks away from the White House.

I wasn’t late, but most of the people were already present. Looking around, I saw Valentine beckoning me over to a secret location in a small area next to the courtroom.

‘How are darling?’

‘I’m good, but I’m scared. I love you so much and I don’t even know if I still want to go against you.’

‘Let everything settle down, and everything will get better. One of the people I know has brought out the judge, don’t ask how I know, but I do. No-matter what happens from here, SBR is going to happen. And I want to hire you myself, I need you to get me the rib cage. The run starts in San Diego and ends here, in Washington. Though the race starts in San Diego, you can start here in Washington, taking a shortcut to the rib cage and getting it before the others do. You will be paid handsomely, and you’ll get my gratitude.’

I looked up at him with pleading eyes, we both knew it was too late. When we heard the judge enter, he kissed my forehead before we both parted ways to go to the trial.

Time fell by during the trial, I didn’t bother listening, I knew the result, but I kept wondering about Valentine’s proposal. How could I ever turn him down? Once the trial was over and the verdict was given, chaos broke out. Shots were fired, things were almost set alight, a stampede began to break out. I was pulled to the side by one of the president’s guards and told to scram to my horse and get ready for later today where I would get a letter inviting me somewhere. And a letter did come. The letter came with a fancy box accompanying it.

In the box was a floor-length, silk, scarlet-red, cowl neckline dress with spaghetti straps that dropped into a low back. There was a slit on the right leg that went up to just above my mid-thigh. Did he want me to wear this? It came with a pair of matte-black, red-bottom heels. Then I opened the letter to read it.

‘I'm hosting an event tonight as a celebration and meetup between me and some of my friends. The affair is to start at 6 PM, and the dinner party will last until 8. Then some people will leave and the party will begin. Music, drinks, and much more. Arrive at 8 on my horse and leave it with one of my guards. Bring your guns for safety, since you are technically a criminal and a danger to society. I’ll see you there, enjoy your ride.

-Funny Valentine’

What kind of ride was this guy talking about? The ride there was slow and quite uncomfortable. I had to sit in a certain way so as to not flash the people on the street, and I had to be careful and not fall off the horse because of my heels. Luckily, I got there safely enough, even though I did

trip when I got off the horse. I entered the house and walked through the swarms of people, going to his office, hoping he would be there. Knocking on the door and patiently waiting, I heard someone mumble a deep ‘come in’. His head was rested on his tackle and his arms were placed over the nape of his neck. Was he okay? Something must have gone wrong during his dinner date with all of those officials, or as he called them, ‘friends’.

Walking up to him, I moved his limbs off the desk and climbed onto his lap, lifting his chin up so he could look me in the eye. Then I remembered something and climbed off his lap, running to the door, locking it, and shutting off the light. I ran back over to him, kicking my heels off in the process. While lifting my leg to straddle him, I grabbed a handful of his hair and lifted it up, when I sat down, I whispered in his ear, ‘Time to get serious.’ His hands slid up my dress, moving the material around. His left hand slipped into one of his desk’s drawers as he leaned in forward. It turned out he grabbed a pair of scissors. My reflexes led me to grab one of my pistols and point them up at his head. Then I saw what he intended to do with the scissors. Tracing the scissors over my tanned skin, he took the fabric of the dress and started to cut into it. His cutting was so graceful, maybe because the silk was thin enough for him to cut it with ease. In the spurr of the moment, I got a phenomenal idea. Instead of pointing the gun at his head, I moved it down to his crotch, lightly pressing down. My gaze shifted up to the ceiling as my gun did the work.

His face twitched at one point as his left hand snapped down, grabbed the gun and through it across the room. I followed suit and threw away his scissors. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed my dress and ripped it apart with his pure strength. Once again, I tried to do what he did, but ripping his shirt apart was harder than I thought it was. Getting mad, I weakly slammed my fists against his chest and leaned in. I heard a chuckle above me as he lifted me off of his chest and unbuttoned his shirt for me. He did it slowly, teasingly, tantalizingly. When his shirt was off, my hands traced down his toned chest and down his v-line.

He lifted me off of his lap and placed me down onto his desk, shoving aside all of his paperwork. He unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, slipping them down to his ankles; even his thighs were toned as fuck. Pushing my shoulder down so my back would be against the desk and my head would be falling off the desk, I could feel his hand sliding up and down my thighs as his fingers nimbly slipped into my underwear. He began to rub around in all the right places before completely removing the annoying piece of clothing and getting the full access he needed. He leaned over to pull me into a kiss, or first kiss of the night, and then got back up to slip off his boxers. Proceeding to shove a few fingers in my mouth, he coated them in my saliva and then moved them across his long hard. I didn’t have the strength to keep my head up so at one point I just let my head fall back and let him do his own thing. I moaned out his name as I felt him slip into me. Slowly, he steadied himself and went deeper, taking care to not hurt me in any way. Giving me ample time to adjust, he rested his hands down onto the table and let me grab his hair. It started out slow, but it got faster, and better, and more pleasurable as the minutes flew by. Beads of sweat were dripping down our foreheads as he kept pounding into me. Still to this day I don’t know how he managed to mercilessly pound into me with so much care and affection. It felt like the night had just begun when we finished. He might have cummed about 3 times that night, but I lost count, so it might have been more. Thinking back, I might have fallen asleep on his desk because I woke up in a strange bed that morning. It was warm, and smelled fresh, unlike the room we fucked in last night.

Then I remembered something.

TODAY WAS THE STEEL BALL RUN!

#funny valentine #jojos bizarre adventure #smut #x reader #romance #sbr

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whitecatindisguise · 4 years ago

Text

The Sundrop Alchemist (2)

Me: Writes prologue and two chapters of the story in just two days and posts all, because I have no idea when the inspiration will go away. It always does...

Anyway, here’s chapter 2.

Summary: Varian finally gathers courage and asks Mother to leave the tower. Only for one night... for his birthday... She should agree, right?

AO3 link is here

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Chapter 2: The Birthday Lights

Varian pursed his lips, reminding himself to be brave. He was going to do it. He was going to ask Mother.

He heard a familiar female voice calling out for him at the bottom of the tower. With a resolve in his heart, he opened the window and threw down his hair, securing it over the wheel. Soo, he felt a tug and proceed to lift Mother up.

She looked rather tired, which was no surprise, considering she has to travel a long way this time. Varian didn’t know where exactly Mother went off to this time, but she was gone for several days, so it has to be really far.

“Ah, you’re getting better at this.” The woman praised, patting his blonde hair in approval. He blushed a little at the appraisal.

It was true. When earlier it took him several minutes to lift Mother up to the windowsill, now it was just a matter of half a minute.

“You behaved while I was gone, I presume.” Mother went on, setting down her basket and turning to him. She opened her arms and he gladly launched at her, hugging the woman.

He missed her those days she was gone. She didn’t spend as much time in the tower as she did when he was younger, but she still tried to come every second day. This was the longest she was away, as far as he remembered.

“I missed you, Mother.” He mumbled at her chest and she patted him again. He unlaced his arms and took a step back. Mother didn’t like it when he hugged her for too long. “Did you have a good trip?”

“Aw, I’m sorry to leave you alone for so long, Flower.” She made a sad face and cupped his cheek affectionately. “Mother had some things to take care of.”

“I understand, Mother.” Varian nodded. He stood still for a moment. “Oh, I’ve tried out a new recipe from the book you gave me!” He remembered, running up to the oven and taking out a tray of sweet-smelling cookies. “I wanted you to be the first one to try them.”

Gingerly, he offered the tray to the woman. She eyed the confections cautiously. Both of them knew Varian loved experimenting, was it with alchemy, engineering OR cooking.

“I-I didn’t add anything weird this time, I promise.” The boy supplied, red spreading at his cheeks. “I followed the recipe to the dot.”

“Well, let’s see if it’s edible then, shall we?” Mother joked and picked up one cookie. She bit a small piece and nibbled on it in silence.

Varian held his breath, as Mother ate. Was it good? Bad? Too sweet? Too bitter? Maybe he forgot some ingredient? He was so pumped up about the recipe, he might have forgotten something.

Finally, Mother swallowed the piece. There was a moment of silence as she thought about her judgement. Varian thought he could die just there, if she didn’t like it.

“Well…” She spoke up and Varian hang to every word. This was it. “... seems like not everything you do must end with disaster.” She smiled and ate the rest of the cookie. She patted his cheek and he smiled.

“So you liked it?” He asked, eyes glistening.

“It was definitely better than the food I have to ate on my journey.” She replied, sitting down on the stool. “Next time you’ll prepare food for me, won’t you, Flower?”

“O-of course, Mother!” Varian agreed gingerly and put the tray on the table. He took one of the cookies and the woman picked up another one, nibbling on it absent-mindedly.

“But that’s for other time.” Mother waved her had nonchalantly and smiled. “Now, be a dear and bring me your hairbrush. It’s been a while since I brushed your hair.”

The boy quickly ran up to his room and brought up the blue hairbrush. He gave it to the woman, running up and bringing a stool for himself to sit. A familiar song found its way to his lips and he felt at peace, singing gently. Magic flew through his hair and Mother gently brushed it, untangling any knots.

After the ritual, they both set out to make dinner. Varian was fully capable to do it on his own, but he loved it when he worked together with Mother. It made those rare moments more memorable.

They ate, chatting about Mother’s travel. Varian listened carefully, his mind picturing the places she described. He loved when Mother spoke about the outside world. It felt magical and the boy wanted nothing more but to explore it by himself.

“Oh my, I would have forgotten.” Mother said suddenly and reached out to her basket, fishing out a book and pushing it towards the boy. “I got you a little something, while I was away.”

“Tales of Flynnigan Rider, Tome 5!” He exclaimed happily, eyes wandering over the cover. It looked old and used, but it didn’t matter. It was a gift from Mother! “Thank you, Mother!”

“Well, what kind of mother I would be, if I came back empty-handed?” The woman laughed and observed the boy looking through the book. “Speaking of, your birthday are coming, are they not? Which ones are they this time? Nine? Ten?”

“Fourteen, Mother.” Varian supplied and Mother laughed.

“Silly me. I still think you’re my sweet little boy.” She ruffled his hair playfully. “You grow up so fast.”

“Um… so, about by birthday…” Varian set the book down and knotted his fingers under the table. He took a deep breath. This was it. He was going to ask her. “Could you take me to see the floating lights?”

“Do you mean stars, Flower?” Mother cocked her head in confusion. “Why, they are perfectly visible from here.”

“No, not the stars. They’re… Let me show you.” Before the woman could react, he darted back to his room. He picked up his notebook from the bedside table and ran back, looking through it. “Here, see? They’re not stars!” He opened the correct page and pushed the notebook towards Mother. “Stars are white and they are not that big. These-these floating lights have different colours.” He pointed to the drawing, showing colourful dots. Pink, yellow, green, blue… “I… I don’t know what they are, but they appear only once a year, exactly at my birthday. Can we, please, go see them? I�� I want to know what they are. Just for one night, several hours.”

“Flower…” Mother sighed and pushed the notebook away. “How many times should I tell you? You can’t leave this tower. It’s not safe out there.”

“B-but, if I go with you-” Varian tried to argue but Mother shushed him quickly.

“You stay in that tower for your own protection, Flower. The world outside is awful and cruel. I only go out, because I need to.” She took his face in her hands and continued. “There are ruffians and criminals. Men with pointy teeth and sharp nails. They would take you away, hurt you and use you for your magic hair.”

“I…I don’t think it’s that bad-” The boy cut in, but Mother put her finger on his lips, successfully shutting him.

“Trust me, Flower. I would know.” She said. “Ruffians, thugs, poison ivy, quicksand, cannibals, snakes... I’ve seen it all. Not once I barely escaped with my life.” She added dramatically.

Varian’s breath hitched. Mother barely escaped with her life? Mother? Did that mean…?

“And you, Varian.” Mother looked him up and down and tutted. “They would eat you alive. You are so young, so naive. All it would take is one blink of an eye for me to lose you. And you know it would break my heart, if anything were to happen to you.”

“I… I’m sorry, Mother.” Varian downed his head in shame. Mother took care of him for so long, kept him safe from the awful world outside. And he wanted it all go to waste just to see some floating lights. He was an awful son.

“Varian?” Mother spoke and he looked up at her, tears in his eyes. Was she mad? Disappointed?

She opened her arms in a silent invitation and he barrelled into her, crying. She shushed him, gently stroking his hair.

“Promise me, you will never leave this tower.” She said, voice tainted with sadness. He nodded against her chest, tears falling from his eyes.

“I promise, Mother.” He whispered into her dress.

“Good. I love you, Flower.” Mother said. Varian hugged her even tighter.

“I love you more.” He replied.

“I love you most.” She finished, planting a kiss on the top of his head.

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So... she didn’t agree. But that’s fine, right? He can stay in the tower forever... right?...

#tts #varian #gothel #the sundrop alchemist #floating lights #angst (a little bit)#baby needs comfort

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