#the nice clerk at the book store left me alone after i said i was there to get out of the house | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acupof-tf · 3 years

Text

Brand Ambassador

Your boyfriend thinks that having sex in a store's changing room is a challenge worth taking, but do you think that's a good idea?

[CW // Gojo Satoru x fem!reader, smut au, exhibitionist, daddy kink, plug, cum dump]

Champagne in hand, both you and Satoru sat down in the middle of Gucci’s newly opened store in Shinjuku. This wasn’t the first time you went with him to his many social gathering gigs, but it still feels weird to be participating in these kinds of social parties where you need to be elegant and look pretty. You wore a dark blue Gucci two-piece set with a black brallette underneath, you were tired with your dresses and you could move better with the pantsuit. It was 9 PM, Satoru was chatting with a director? Manager? You don’t really know, but he looked like a big shot. You were left alone with your thoughts and your second glass of champagne. I have to move, this is so boring.

You stood up and walked around the store. It was one of the biggest stores in Shinjuku, that’s why Satoru had to make an appearance because he was Gucci’s brand ambassador of the year. He enjoyed the attention and you enjoyed the free food and booze, it was a win-win situation basically. You arrived at the end of the store where they displayed the women’s apparel, a dress caught your eye immediately. It was from their Fall collection, a golden satin dress with spaghetti straps and a long slit from the thigh down, it had a very subtle Gucci logo embroidered into the hip part of it. It’s exactly your size even though it’s the only one on the rack. Just as you were reaching to grab it, a store clerk beat you to it and reached for it first. He faced you with the dress in hand, he was tall with a polite face.

“Hello Miss, do you perhaps want to try this on?” His voice was deep and professional, hinting that he’s been doing this for a long time.

“Ah, I was actually just looking around. But if it’s allowed then I would love to.” You blushed out of embarrassment, realizing a mere stranger could read your face like an open book.

“It’s absolutely alright Miss, seeing as this dress seemed to call for you. I personally think you would look exquisite in it.” He said with a smile. It was a polite gesture, you assume that he was saying this from a world of experience rather than mindless flirting.

“Okay then… Yeah, I would like to try this on. Can you guide me to the dressing room?”

“It will be my pleasure, Miss. Right this way.”

You followed him to another corner of the store past a dark velvet curtain veil, where it reveals a circular room with mirrors attached to one side. It was the most fancy changing room you have ever set foot on with lots of space to sit, change, and even sleep. There was a large velvet sofa and a footstool to match it. A rack for hanging clothes and a box of accessories for customers to try on with their outfits. They even provide various footwear so customers can mix and match the look as they please. It was more of a walking closet than a changing room but your wandering thoughts were interrupted by the clerk as he was about to leave.

“You may use the room as long as you like, Miss. I will be right outside, if you need anything please ring the bell beside the door.”

“Yes, thank you so much… um-”

“You can call me Nanami, Miss.” He gave his polite smile again, bowed his head and went out the door.

Now, left alone in the big ass room, you sighed and started to strip down. After putting it on your body, you savour how the material hugged your body just right. The satin feels cold against your skin. The neckline was low enough to show off the top of your breasts while hugging it nicely forming a beautiful silhouette. The dress did the same to your hips and waist, giving off a regal yet sexy look. You caught yourself in the mirror and saw how surreal you looked at that moment. But it was short-lived as you saw the tag hanging out on the side, you felt dejected at how many zeros were present. How does a dress worth this much?! Well you can’t really complain when the dress is of high quality and brand. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to the dress yet, so you grabbed your phone and took some pictures to show off to Satoru later.

“I wish I could bring you home pretty dress… I really want Satoru to see me in this.”

“Then why don’t we just bring it home?”

The voice startled you so much that you dropped your phone while turning to him. He let out a chuckle seeing your surprised face slowly changing to annoyance. Satoru looked at you from top to bottom, ravishing in your beauty, mind racing with the thought of you in his arms with that dress on. He took a seat on the sofa, eyes never leaving your body. He had a white Gucci suit with a black shirt underneath paired with stylish sunglasses to protect his beautiful eyes. The combination was a good monochrome contrast on his body, his suit matching with his stark white-silver hair. You started to squirm under his gaze, his eyes were always so beautiful and eerie like it could see through you, stripping you from the thin material of the dress. He backed up on the sofa and gestured for you to come to him.

“What are you doing looking all pretty back here, hm?”

“I just tried on this dress, isn’t it pretty?” You gave him a little twirl to show off, the ends of the dress going up showing more of your legs than you intended.

“Yeah, it is. Come sit here, I want to see that pretty dress closer.” He tapped his thighs, signalling you to sit on his lap.

You sat down, straddling his waist, looking at him nervously. He was smiling but you knew better than to trust that smile. It was a smile filled with malice, indicating that he was pissed about something. Surely it wasn’t because of you? Was it wrong to try on a pretty dress while your boyfriend was talking important business with someone important? You were in the middle of contemplating whether to ask what was wrong when he asked you a question.

“Who were you talking to before coming in here?”

Ah. Now it’s plain obvious what this is about. Satoru was protective and possessive (to some extent), but he is never out of line. Him asking this was not a surprise, he’s just a little jealous. It’s cute, you think. Every time he gets like this it’s either you calm him down with a couple of kisses, or you tease him until he fucks you dry on the spot. Both are beneficial in its own right, but you thought of where you were right now and it was not a place where you would want to be caught having sex in. So, you picked the easy way out and started to pepper him with kisses while explaining that he was a store clerk and that he helped guide her to this changing room.

“Don’t worry Satoru, he was just a polite store clerk, that’s all.” You kissed him on his nose, on his cheek. “He was just being professional with a customer.” You kissed all over his face, all but his mouth.

His smile was still there, he’s still pissed.

“How about we go home early, hm? I’ll get out of this fast and then when we get home we can watch that new series on Netflix.” You try to change the subject and move out of his lap but his hands were on your hip in an instant, locking you in that position.

“Satoru?”

“Why are you in such a hurry? I still want to look at you in this dress.” He squeezed your ass while peppering kisses from your neck to your chest. You knew where this was going and you didn’t want him to stop but remembering where both of you were, you tried to muster all of your self control and push him back.

“No- nope, we are not doing it here and this dress is too expensive to have wrinkles. We can continue this at home, Satoru.” You tried to get off of him again but his hands were firm. He took a look at the tag and actually laughed.

“Baby, the price on this dress is nothing compared to how you look in it.”

You looked surprised, he took that opening and pulled you into a deep kiss. His tongue had no mercy in your mouth. Your hips unconsciously grind down on his lap and were surprised with how big he had become in the short amount of time you guys were inside of that room. You pulled back to catch some air, a string of saliva connecting your mouths.

“How are you this big already? ...let’s continue this at home, Satoru.”

“Why not do it here? Are you scared someone might come in and find us?”

His eyebrows were wiggling. Nothing good happens when he wiggles his eyebrows.

“Of course I don’t want people, important people, to catch their brand ambassador hooking up in the store’s changing room!”

“But I want to ruin you in that dress.”

“I-” Well that was not what you expected. “No. Bad Satoru.”

“Oh, then you don’t want me to pin you against that mirror over there, fucking you from behind?” He began to pepper kisses across your chest, making his way up your neck. “You don’t want me to play with your nipples over this thin dress, making you a moaning mess?” He licked a stripe up your neck and stopped beside your ear. “And you also don’t want me to cum inside you, filling you up so good while you try so hard to not scream my name?” He was merciless. Satoru continued to pepper sloppy kisses all over your face, all but your mouth, just like what you did earlier. He did all of this without his hands touching any part of your body. It was driving you crazy. You want him to do all of what he said, you want him to ruin you right there with the dress. And you’re actually really turned on by the fact that you could get found out, it was a new type of thrill, you kind of liked that. Yet, you still need to think about Satoru’s reputation, you couldn’t risk it because he’s in his prime right now.

You were too busy thinking and enjoying his kisses when Satoru suddenly pulled you close and carried you to the mirror. He took four long strides to get there. You could see your discarded clothes on the side. He put you down and positioned himself in front of the mirror with his back on it. You were confused because you thought he was getting you there to let you change back into your clothes, but you couldn’t believe what he was about to do.

He went down on his knees, grabbed you by the hips and opened up the dress by the slit on the side, exposing your already wet panties underneath. He licked his lips before pulling down your panties and got closer to your wet lips.

“Satoru- no, someone’s gonna come in. Please let’s just go home.”

“Well, that’s only if you’re loud. Right, baby?” He smirked before biting the side of your thigh. He was intentionally avoiding your pussy, kissing and biting our thighs for a while. You were trying so hard not to let out any moans. You keep imagining someone knocking or opening the door and finding you moaning to the mirror. The thought was so obscene that what you thought was a sigh turned out to be a moan you let out and that was what Satoru was waiting for.

When he heard you he instantly latched on to your pussy, lapping his tongue against your clit and lips sucking up everything he had been avoiding up until now. You always loved it when he eats you out, his tongue was big enough to engulf your entrance. And when it comes to you, it was merciless. It’s not as fulfilling as his dick but he makes up for it when he sucks out your clit until it's a throbbing mess. You were trying, really trying, to not let out any more moans or noises and it was making you frustrated because you knew that was exactly what Satoru wanted from you, that’s why he was going so hard. You put a hand over your mouth for good measure because you don’t trust yourself enough with only biting your lips.

Satoru apparently had enough of you pussy seeing as he couldn’t get anymore moans out of you at this point. So he detached himself and went up straight to your mouth. You could taste yourself from his lips, it was making you dizzy. Feeling safe in the kiss, you moaned and bit into his lower lip, wanting more. There was no turning back now.

“Getting bold, huh.” He said as you tried to open his pants as fast as you could. You thought that if you were to do it here, then it better be quick.

“I want you. Let’s do it quickly.”

“What’s the rush, babe?” He whispered in your ear as he let you open him up.

Oh. He was big and thick, just like the rest of his body. It was nice to have him in your palm, you slowly stroke him up and down to get him into it. Your pussy was dripping wet even though he practically sucked you dry just now.

“You want me inside you?”

You nodded.

“I need words, baby.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Hmm, I don’t know though. It doesn’t feel like you’re desperate enough. What do you want me to do, baby? Say it clearly.”

So not fair. He knew you were desperate. You were always desperate for him. Always begging for him to fuck you harder, faster, more, more, more. But you can’t do that here, not without attracting unwanted attention from outside. You need to be careful because you’re loud. And that was what Satoru wanted. He wanted to hear you scream his name and beg for him to cum inside you, regardless if anyone heard them. He wanted to wreck you between his arms, begging him to let you cum.

“I- Daddy, please put it in.” Your legs were shaking and your pussy twitching.

“Please Daddy, I want your cum to fill me in.”

You were leaning on the mirror for support. Legs spread out ready to take him in. It was such a gorgeous sight to see your eyes filled with lust, pussy dripping just for him. He turned you around so you face the mirror. The slit on your dress had gained a new purpose as it made exposing your pussy easier for Satoru. He spanked you once, then twice. The impact startled you and you let out a moan so loud that even Satoru was worried.

“Y/n, I know you know that I like it when you’re loud but I think you gotta turn down a notch, hm? If you can’t even handle the spanking, I don’t think you deserve my dick, baby.”

“N- no. No, please Satoru. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you so please just- Baby please fill me up, I need your dick so bad.”

He gave your reflection a big grin, his dick was twitching out of pleasure. He loved it when you beg because it gave him control. His pre-cum was oozing out of his tip and he lathered it over his form. Satoru gave you one last spank and went straight into your gaping hole. You both savoured the pleasure but it didn’t last for long because Satoru began to thrust hard and fast. He had always admired how tight your pussy was, even though it had already endured so much in the past year dating him. It always felt like the first time having sex with you, and he liked that a lot.

Your moans were beginning to get out of control, quite literally. Your head was hazy with pleasure and you couldn’t think straight anymore. You were so close to climaxing but you held it in, knowing that cumming first would not be the best choice. Satoru was ruthless, he’s so big and thick, I want his cum-

He stopped thrusting. Why did he stop? You couldn’t be bothered to ask questions so you just grind back at him trying to coax him back to moving his hips. That earned a slap on your left cheek and him leaning down near your ear.

“Stop being a brat and listen to me, do you want me to fuck you?”

“Y- yes…”

“How bad do you want it?”

“So- so bad, Daddy. Please.”

“Will you be a good girl for me and shut up when I fuck you hard? Do you want people to come in here and see how much of a slut you are for me?”

“Yes, yes. Daddy I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be quiet. Please please please I’m so close.”

“Hmm.. I don’t think I believe your words, y/n.” He looked around the room for a second and reached out to his side to take something from the ground.

“I think this will do the trick. Open wide, baby.” He reached your mouth and shoved a crumpled cloth inside it to shut you up. It was your discarded panties. At this point you had tears in your eyes and had to bite down on your panties to keep quiet. You looked back in the mirror, it was such a sinful sight and it went straight to your throbbing pussy, turning you on even more.

“Good girl.”

He pushed his dick back into your pussy, hard. But he didn’t thrust as quickly as he had the first time. He took it slow this time, excruciatingly so. You were impatient, so try to chase and match his pace. Satoru didn’t care and just continued to go slow, but then he slammed his whole dick inside. He pulled out slowly until only his head was inside your hole and slammed back in with so much force it made you see stars. Tears were running down your cheeks by now, incoherent moans and sobs can be heard from your gagged lips. He reached out and took a fistful of your hair, pulling you back into him so that you could see how both of you are connected down there and how wrecked you look in front of Satoru.

“Look at you. This is what you get for being impatient, baby.” He thrust in hard. “You promised to be a good girl for me.” And again. “You still want to be a brat?” And again.

You shook your head as best as you could communicating with him through the glass, making sure he knew you understood him.

“Alright then. I’ll make you cum so hard, baby. I’m gonna fill you in so good, so full. I’ll make it so that you’ll only crave for my dick from now on.”

As if I haven’t already.

And with that he was back thrusting in and out of your pussy hard and fast. Even faster than the first time that night. He was trying to match your high, because he knew you were so close from all the things he did. He pulled your hair and thrust even deeper. You could hear his balls slapping against your pussy, the sound so lewd in your ears yet it made your clit throb like crazy. He starts to grunt louder than usual and that’s a sign that he was close to his climax. He pushed his hips in you once, twice…

“Fucking cum with me y/n.” He growled.

Both of you came and he rode out the climax slowly. Your pussy throbbing trying to milk every last drop of his cum. He was still big inside of you, no signs of it going limp. He pulled out and

He was still horny.

“Satoru I- I can’t anymore…” You pulled out your panty and your voice was so hoarse from all the suppressed moans and crying. You sat on the floor, legs spread out with your pussy leaking out his cum. He stayed true to his word, he filled you in to the brim.

Satoru was rummaging through his pockets and produced a small thing. You couldn’t really see what it was because of the tears in your eyes. He went down reaching out to your pussy, which now you assume was him trying to clean you up. Oh to think that he would be a gentleman after all of that.

“Wha- ?!”

Gojo Satoru, the man who just fucked you out of your mind in a Gucci store changing room, had just put a pussy plug in your hole.

“So that none of it will go to waste.” He kissed you tenderly and helped you up. The dress was, surprisingly, still looks great.

Satoru helped get your things and carried you bridal style out of the room. Nanami was still waiting by the door, confused on why you were carried out like that.

“Sir, is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything is perfect but we’re going to call it a night. My girlfriend suddenly feels tired and wants to rest.” He was about to go when he remembered something.

“Oh, and I’ll be taking the dress home, she’s beyond stunning in it. I assume Mister Store Manager won’t mind.”

“Yes, Sir. I will have it arranged. Have a good night.” He bowed and quickly called for the driver.

Satoru kissed your temple, endeared of your already sleeping face.

“Rest well, love. We’ve got the whole night to ruin that beautiful new dress.”

#gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo x female reader #satoru gojo #gojo smut #smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #cw exhibitionism #mirror sex #daddysgirl #pussy plug

261 notes · View notes

raineydays411 · 4 years

Text

Mission In Progress

Steve Rogers x daughter!reader

Summary: Steve realizes that his past behavior may have cost him the love of his daughter.

A/n: Hello! This is the second part to my Steve Rogers series! I hope you like it and also I hope y’all get the little references I put in these lol💕

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean Natasha taught you?”

Oh shit.

That was the collective thought between you, Nat, Clint, and Tony. It was well known among the team that Steve didn’t want his daughter learning ANY form of self defense, but those four thought that was ridiculous. She was Captain America's daughter, she definitely would need to fight off an enemy sooner or later.

“well...nat taught me the basics on how to defend myself, she said it would come in handy someday.” You say quietly, picking the thread on your sleeve rather than looking at your father.

“Romanoff, you taught her how to fight?” Steve said, fury bleeding into his eyes. “I made it perfectly clear--”

“Steve, its unreasonable for her not to know how to fight, she's the daughter of one of the worlds greatest defenders. If she doesn’t fight, she’s dead.”, Natasha said bluntly, staring Steve in the face as the other Avengers grew uncomfortable.

“She’s perfectly fine, it’s not like she leaves the Tower anyway.”

“Because if she did, you’d have someone follow her. It’s creepy, man” Tony butts in with a roll of his eyes. By now both Bruce and Thor had silently left the room, as both of them would be useless in this conversation.

“Oh, so Tony Stark is gonna teach me how to raise a kid? Isn’t that ironic.”

“It’s not like you’re doing any better on your own. All Y/n does is stay in her room and write in that book of hers, she doesn’t even talk to people her own age.”

“It’s safer that way and you all know it” Steve snaps, refusing to even look your way. “ I set those rules for a reason, and I don’t appreciate my team mate or friends going behind my back and breaking them.”

“Look, Steve we love you, but the way you’re going about this whole parenting situation is completely wrong.” Clint finally says. “ I get that you were thrusted into this role, we all do. But man, you can protect Y/n from everything and it’s not healthy for her to be locked away in the tower like--”

“Like some modern day Rapunzel”

“Thank you, Tony.”

“You all know the reason why she’s not allowed to leave. Its just safer that way.” Steve says, expecting the conversation to be over. “ Now, we’ll talk about this when we get back to --”

“You don’t lock me away for my protection” You say looking up with a determined face. Steve, obviously stunned you called him out like that turned to you and said

“ Excuse me?”

“ It was never about me. If you wanted me to be safe, you would have taught me how to defend myself as soon as you could. You would have told the world about me, just to make sure everyone knows not to mess with me.” You say, your brow furrowed. “ You say its for safety, but who’s safety is it really for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve says in a low, slow tone.

“Everytime I come in a room, you tense up like I’m going to attack you.” You start to say, realizing that once you reveal what you noticed, things will never be the same. “ You monitor everything I do. You never allow me to be alone. You don’t talk to be about missions and don’t allow anyone else to.” You stand up off the couch. “ You refuse to acknowledge my mother, and won’t even let read the journal she left me.”

“That’s enough Y/n”

“No!” You shout. “ It’s not fair I don’t understand why you treat me like this.” Steve looks at you in surprise.

“ Y/n, you don’t understand.”

“ I do. You don’t trust me.” You finally say. “ You haven’t from day one, and I don’t know why. It's not like a six year old is a Hydra agent by disguise.”

Hearing this Steve freezes. He knows that all this surveillance was unnecessary. And deep down he knew that you could never hurt not even a fly. but that tiny voice in his head got the best of him. And even though he grew to love you more than he’d like to admit, the thought of you being am enemy scared him.

“ You are a threat.” Steve says stubbornly. “ You came out of nowhere, with nothing but a note in the middle of the night. Your mother is nowhere to be found, and I have no idea who to even look for. You look nothing like me and defiantly don’t act like me.”

Hearing these words is like a knife being repeatedly stabbed in your heart. It’s one thing to think that your dad doesn’t love you, it's another to hear them directly from his mouth.

“ I have done nothing for you to treat me like this. I have done nothing to lose your trust. I didn’t ask for my mother to leave me here with you. It’s not my fault.” You say, tears starting to well up in your eyes. “ That robot asked me to go with him you know?”

The whole room freezes. You never mentioned that when Clint picked you up from the Tower.

“ He asked me to go with him, because he said I had no one. I had nothing to loose. And now” You let tears run down your face. “ Now that I know he’s right, I still wouldn’t go with him. Because I would NEVER want someone to get hurt because of me.” And with that you pushed past the group of superheros and ran outside. You didn’t know where you were going, but you had to get out of that house.

You walk into town and into a bookshop that was surprisingly open at this hour. The clerk looked at you in annoyance as you wandered the isles quietly. Picking up a copy of Romeo and Juliet, you walk toward the counter to pay.

“Tch, Romeo and Juliet?” The cashier says

“What about it?” you ask, puzzled that he cared enough to mention it.

“Nothing if you’re thirteen and never had a boyfriend.”

“Oh really?” You say, eyes lighting up at the chance to talk to someone your own age without the gaze of an agent boring into your back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, there was a tense silence in the house. Steve left with the words you told him rattling in his brain.

“You know, Y/n always used to come to me for help picking out the perfect father's day gift for you.” Clint said breaking the silence in the room. “ She insisted we wake up hours before you to go to the shops just to surprise you. She loved wrapping the gift and the thought of making you happy.” He smiled bitterly. “ I loved every second of it, watching her reminded me of my own family. It broke my heart to see her little face deflate when you barely acknowledged the gift and treated it like it was a bomb or something.” He shakes his head and walks out. Natasha follows him and says ‘ Its late, it's not safe for her to be out there alone, I’m going to look for her.”. Then she’s gone. Leaving only Tony and Steve in the living room. It’s quiet for a few minutes. They can hear Clint playing with his children, Lila laughing as Cooper and Clint chase her.

“ You know, all my life I had to wonder if my dad loved me too.” Tony said suddenly. “ I guess that’s why I got along with Y/n so well.”

Steve sat on the couch and sighed. “ I guess I could’ve approached this differently.”

“That's your problem Rogers, you treat her like a mission. She’s a kid. Even I know that you can’t raise a kid that way.”

Steve exhaled through his nose. “So, what do you think I should do?”

Tony rolled his eyes again.” Well for one, you can go look for your fourteen year old daughter who ran out in the middle of the night in an area she doesn’t know.”

Steve's eyes widened and he shot up, “ Shit, I- I have to go find her.” and with that he ran out of the living room, leaving Tony alone as he heard him shout

“Language!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn’t take long for Steve to get into town. The only problem he really faced was figuring out where you might be. Almost everything was closed except for a liquor store and some bars. He started to panic, as he started to think about the possibility of you being hurt or kidnapped or--

“Hey bomb pop, over here” someone whispers

Steve looks around to see Natasha standing in front of a bookshop. He jogs up to her and asks

“Nat what are you--” “SHHH, look” she points into the window.

At first Steve didn’t know what he was looking at. All he saw was two kids flirting on some bean bags. But then he looked closer and realized that was his kid flirting on some bean bags. He got ready to burst in there and drag her out, which surprised him.

“What are you doing” Natasha harshly whispered, “This is the first time in years y/n has talked to someone her age, and I will NOT let you ruin it.”

“But does it have to be a boy” Steve whines, then he shrinks back as Nat glares at him.

“You have no right to play protective daddy right now, you--”

“Dad? Nat? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been about an hour since you started talking to Levi, the cashier. Even though he insulted your book choice

“It’s a play about two bratty kids who think they’re in love and then kill themselves, its pathetic”

He’s interesting. He has this harsh exterior that is refreshing to you. You liked that he didn’t handle you with kids gloves like the rest of the Avengers did. He let you stay behind after closing as long as you helped him clean, but you didn’t last long because apparently you “cleaned like a blind person with no hands” whatever that means. After cleaning you two sat and talked about music and his friends. It was nice. That was until you felt eyes on you.

Looking out the window you noticed two figures staring at you. One petite red head and a tall blonde to be more specific. Rolling your eyes, you say goodbye to Levi and thank him for one of the best nights you’ve had in a while. As you left he did something that surprised you.

“Hey brat, here’s my number.” He says as he gives you an old receipt, “ Don’t expect me to text you all night, I have a life too.”

You just smile and say thank you, blushing as you realize this was your first friend in years. You put the number in your pocket and walk outside.

“Dad? Nat?” You ask, cutting their little squabbling short. “What are you two doing here?”

Nat and Steve stand up straight.

“It was getting late and I was worried so I came to find you” Natasha said, “ But it seems to me that you were quite alright in there” She finishes with a smirk. You blush as you try to think of a retort. Before you say anything, you hear your dad clear his throat. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t getting intel on how to kill you or whatever you think what will happen if i make friends.” You again push past the two avengers, your good mood spoiled as you walk away. You hear some harsh whispering then your name is called.

“Y/n” your father calls, “I think we need to talk.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @angeldreineedshelp @night-thinqer @ilyimagines @vxidsti1es @big-galaxy-chaos

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #steve rogers x daughter!reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark x teen!reader #natasha romanoff #marvel x reader #marvel #avengers x teen!reader #poc reader

1K notes · View notes

bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

I’m Still Hurting (Orc x Reader) Part 2

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2107 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend establish a new normal

A/N: At long last, the highly requested part two! I had a bit of struggle coming up with a proper followup to the first part (which was part of why I left it with an open-ended ending in the first place lol). Little less angst this time, I felt these two deserved a little sweetness after the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

Part 1

The first thing that caught your eye when you walked by the music store was the Grand Piano. It was gorgeous: Polished mahogany, a nice velvet seat, and keys that looked like they had never seen the sticky fingers of a curious 8 year old.

“Wow, is that new?”

You nod, admiring the old-fashioned air of the instrument. You knew jack shit about music, but even you could tell that this piano was an antique, one probably worth a good chunk of change.

“Must be. I’ve never seen it before and this place is on my way to work.”

Waruck hmms, pressing his hands up against the glass. His eyes sparkle when he sees the “Free to Play” sign right next to the piano. It probably reminds him of his Grandpa’s, the one he played when you guys visited his family for Christmas.

That was a long time ago.

“Want to go in?”

Waruck pulls away from the glass, eyebrows raised. He rubs the back of his neck and steps a couple feet back, trying to curb his enthusiasm.

“Uh, we don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind. It's been a while-” You pause, the slight-anxiety in the air making every casual word difficult, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play.”

Waruck smiles, small and polite, and opens the door of the shop for you. Before, he might have done a little bow and said “Ladies First” in a British accent.

But that was before, and this is now. Now, every comment is walking on eggshells, whispered tentatively and under your breath. Testing the waters for how comfortable you two could get around each other.

Still, it was exponential growth from two months ago.

--------

After your meeting at the coffee shop, you had asked Waruck for a month; A month of privacy, for you to collect your thoughts and feelings, to be alone for a bit. He had agreed immediately, shuffling out of the cafe with a hunched back and a melancholy air, but he had kept his promise. You took the time to focus on other things, shifting your relationship to the back of your mind and enjoying the day-to-day.

But a part of you felt a little bad, like maybe you were stringing Waruck along for an inevitable breakup. Getting his hopes up for an extra tortuous punishment that left a sour taste in your mouth. So on one brave Saturday night, you sent him a meme you saw on Instagram, one that reminded you of him.

That second month saw the two of you texting more and more frequently, sending little jokes, asking how your day was, so and so. Each week rebuilt a little bit more of that familiarity, that comfortableness. It finally got to the point where Waruck asked if you were free one weekend. He just wanted to get some lunch and stroll around the neighborhood for a bit. For the first time in a while, that idea didn’t seem too bad.

--------

The air is considerably cooler inside the store, a tiny bell ringing as a rush of air-conditioned air hits both of you. Waruck makes a beeline for the piano, his footsteps short and quick. You feel a smile crawl on your face; He always acted like an excited kid when it came to music.

Waruck plops down in the center of the stool, fingers lightly brushing over the keys in awe. You walk up the piano’s side, laying your hand on the wood and admiring the lack of smudge marks on the polished wood. Waruck tests out a G note and although the sound is short, it’s extremely pleasant. Waruck’s smile grows even larger.

“When I was a young boy…”

You mutter under your breath. Waruck chuckles, quickly continuing onto a G flat.

“My father took me into the city,” Waruck hums

“To see a marching band.” The two of you sing together, laughing a little bit too loudly and gaining a sharp look from the tired sales clerk. Waruck waves a little apology, but that playful grin stays on his face.

“Wow, that brings back some repressed Hot Topic memories.”

“Seriously. I can almost feel the book my band teacher used to thwack me with. Me and my buddies would sneak into the choir room and play that all the time.” Waruck’s fingers dance over a couple more notes, aimless.

You’ve always liked watching Waruck play. His fingers were so dextrous and controlled, not to mention long and nicely articulated. He’d probably make good money from a hand-model side-gig.

“Want to take a seat?”

You shift your focus away from Waruck’s hands. He’s made space on the bench and pats the open space next to him.

“Yeah, sure.” You say, despite the fast pace your heart is now beating.

You keep a solid two inches of distance between your bodies, keeping your thighs together as to not brush your legs with his. It felt like a middle school dance, keeping a bible length away from your partner to avoid the disapproving stare of the chaperones.

Waruck nods, absentmindedly running his fingers up the scale. “Any requests?”

Immediately, all non-love songs depart from your brain. One of your favorite pieces sits on the tip of your tongue and your brain refuses to let it go. You shake your head.

“Nope. It’s all yours, music man.”

Waruck chuckles, a little louder and a lot more comfortable, as he sits deeper in his seat.

“Prepare,” Waruck cracks his knuckles, “to be amazed.”

You bite back a laugh. He’s still such a dork.

He starts to play, his hands easily finding the right keys, moving like a well-oiled machine. Your heart nearly skips a beat before it melts into a puddle of sentiment.

It’s your favorite.

The song brings back memories of your childhood, a rainy day in, and delicious food. It’s like chicken soup for the soul and you can feel any of the left over tension leave your body.

Waruck’s eyebrows furrow with concentration, but he has a large smile on his face, his large tusks peeking out from his lips. His arm stretches across the piano as the song hits its most fast-paced part. His biceps and shoulders lean more into your space, but the feeling isn’t unwelcome. It feels natural, as if his presence and yours is part of the piece itself.

Waruck’s thigh brushes against yours, but his pace doesn’t falter and neither does yours. You stay enraptured, watching how easily he slips into the music. You barely even notice how you have begun to lean closer to his side; Your mind says it’s to give his arms plenty of space to play, but it’s still far more comfortable than you are willing to admit.

How easy it feels, in the moment, to fall back into routine.

The song begins slowing to a stop, only a couple seconds left, when the sounds of the music shop return to you. A giggle from not too far rings discordant with Waruck’s piano.

Three girls stand not too far from you, watching with fascination as Waruck plays.

“Wow, he is so good!” One whispers to her friends.

There is nothing even remotely lascivious in their eyes or in their words, but a knife still twists in your gut. Your throat constricts as flashes of your bedroom, of unanswered texts, and a picture of a bar corner booth send needles down your spine and into your heart.

Is this wrong? Is this giddy feeling you have only distracting you from reality? Is it like this song, Waruck’s playing, beautiful but temporary?

“Ugh, I want what they have.”

“I know, right? How romantic.”

They’re wrong, you’re wrong, this is wrong; It’s fake, fake, fa-

Your eyes dart to and fro, trying to desperately avoid Waruck’s quickly overwhelming body heat and your audience, before it catches on the distorted shape of your reflection in the window.

The glass is old, slightly drooping, even the golden lettering of the music shop’s name looks dusty and sun-bleached.

But what is unmistakable is you and Waruck. Waruck, playing piano, and looking at you. Looking at you with the love in his eyes you thought had died, or had never been there at all. The group of girls stands in the background, small and out of focus.

And Waruck is staring at you.

“Are you okay?” Waruck asks, his warm hand on your shoulder.

You whip your neck around, almost getting whiplash.

You’re here, in the music store, with your boyfriend. He looks at you, brow slightly puzzled from your wild eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I,” You suck in a deep breath, “Sorry, I guess I got lost in my own head. That song gets me kind of nostalgic.”

Waruck pats your shoulder and you miss it’s heat when he pulls it back to his side. He smiles, but you can tell he is still slightly worried.

“No problem, I get it.”

You notice now how much closer Waruck is to you. His chest has shifted towards yours, the fabric of his shirt sleeve pressing against the skin of your bicep. Waruck’s knee absentmindedly knocks into yours, but the contact doesn’t sting or jolt you. Not even the continuing silence makes the situation awkward.

It’s nice.

“Do you want to check out the record aisle? They might actually have that piece on vinyl.”

Waruck gestures with his thumb to the piles of CD’s and records not too far from you two. You nod

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

--------

The two of you spend about an hour in the music store, pointing out hilarious cover art and admiring some vintage finds. Waruck even gets you to chuckle a couple of times, slowly bringing out his old cheesy puns.

Waruck’s missed this.

You two walk out of the music store at the tail end of one of Waruck’s jokes, you playfully punching his shoulder.

The two of you wander, in the opposite direction of your cars, for a little while. But Waruck hasn’t lost track of time; No, he’s soaking in every moment he can, every smile and lingering look you give him. Every reminder that this is real.

He spent a week agonizing over what he did. Stuck in silence as he gave you your space. His friends (His real friends, not those assholes from the bar) had offered to come by and keep him company, but he turned it down.

When Waruck got back into routine, it was slow-rolling. It was difficult to fight the instinct to check his phone for a good-morning text, or check your Instagram for any ‘post-breakup’ partying.

No, he had already broken your trust once. The least he could do was give you some time. Spend some hour not wallowing in self-pity, but actively make a change.

Waruck began to accept those invites to a chill hang out, playing some poker and sipping on beer with the gang. He played his keyboard when the thoughts got too loud and went jogging when the music wasn’t loud enough. He called his mom a couple of times, even sent his sister a couple of texts to catch up. They hadn’t spoken outside of holidays for almost three years.

Maybe he was the one that needed time.

God, why did you have to be so smart?

“Oh shit, how long have we been walking?” You mutter, checking your watch for the time. Waruck turns around you, already knowing the answer was 27 minutes, exactly. The both of you were nearing the edge of the neighborhood, cafes and shops turning into residential suburbs. “Dang, time really flies, huh?”

Waruck smiles.

“With you? It always does.”

You give him a half smile, patting his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re such a cheeseball.”

Waruck winks and shoots you some finger guns.

“You know it babe.”

You giggle, checking your watch once more, face turning just a little bit.

“I should probably head back, I’m getting dinner with some friends tonight.”

A small part of Waruck yearns for more time, but he lets it go.

Space, this was about establishing space.

“I had a lot of fun today, Waruck.” You step a little closer, Waruck’s heart skips a beat.

“Me too.” He whispers, his breath catching as your fingers brush against his.

It’s a simple gesture, one you’ve down a million times. But when your palm slips into his, your finger’s interlocking, it’s like fireworks have gone off.

“Same time, next week?”

Waruck nods, not trusting himself to speak without a voice crack.

That’s all he needed, all you wanted; The promise of the future.

“Yes, I would love that.”

#my writing #orc x reader #reader insert #female reader insert #orc/human #monster/human #monster x reader #monster/reader #angst #orc

344 notes · View notes

writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 4 years

Text

School House Blues

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Collection/Series: Western AU- Putting Down Roots

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Identifying Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Warnings: N/A

Request from Anon: Hey so I saw your post that said requests for certain characters were open and I was wondering if I could ask for a din djarin x plus size reader with this prompt please? : (19th c) I’m the town’s school teacher and you’re the gruff wanderer/traveller/cowboy/outlaw/etc. That’s come to town. You help me fix the school house and wrangle the little demons I teach. I was thinking the kid could be one of her students! Thank you so much in advance ♥️♥️

Summary: When the bounty hunter strolls into your little mining town you don’t think much of it, but with a little boy in his wake and your school house in disrepair, he becomes more than just a passing visit, but a welcome constant.

Notes: You know me too well, Western AU/historic AU Din is so good as a concept and ughhhhhh this was so wonderful to have requested and I hope desperately that it’s good!

Reader isn’t really specified as plus size just because it didn’t really come up in the story? Although she is described as being quite soft and sweet in appearance.

Archiveofourown

He comes into town with one hand clenched around his horse’s reins, guiding the bay and white creature with a bounty hogtied swearing and cursing over its rump, and the other hand holding a little boy of no older than six at his hip. It’s quite the sight, one that momentarily distracts you from your grief at the fact you’re teaching your children out of a saloon now since your schoolhouse was burnt to the ground.

He’s imposing or he would be if the little boy wasn’t smiling up at him with big brown eyes. It’s hard to be imposing when you’re clearly the world of a small child and it makes you smile from the porch of the saloon. You’d been organising the boxes of donations the townsfolk had put together, since all your books, slates, chalk, paper, pencils, and the like had burnt in the fire, when he strolls past. He glances over at you and tips his head, hat dipping over his chestnut eyes and it flusters you for a second when you finally see his face.

He’s handsome, incredibly so, too handsome to be in your small mining town you think. Deep brown eyes, a prominent nose and plump lips set in a perpetual pout. His jaw is sharp and his beard and moustache are trimmed neatly, despite the bruising on his face and the layer of dirt from the road he’s truly beautiful, a thought that flusters you further. The small boy sat comfortably at his hip and playing with the fabric of his suspenders is adorable, soft round cheeks and large brown eyes, but he doesn’t look much like the man and you’re curious what the story is there.

The boy is old enough to be in school with you, to sit and learn his letters and to read while the older kids move on to learning about science, history, mathematics and poetry. There are a couple of children his age in your class, Timmy and Mary-Beth, both just getting the hang of gripping a pencil correctly. You wonder if he won’t be joining your class soon or if he and his guardian will be out of town before you can even consider preparing for a new student.

You watch the man hitch the horse outside the Sheriff’s office, the one that’s not got a sheriff at the moment. You hope he’s not looking for quick pay, the lawman that resided in the Sheriff’s office at the moment was just there until they could find a new sheriff. He’d have to telegram out to get the bounty money. Your last sheriff had up and left after being shot at by a couple of drunk miners, he’d decided that was enough and quite the same day. The town had been a little more unruly since and it was beginning to make you and some of the other townsfolk uneasy without someone to keep the peace. The temporary lawman had been lazy and uninvolved thus far. It was after the sheriff quit that your schoolhouse burnt down and you weren’t sure it was coincidence.

You watch the man place the boy on his feet and say something quietly to him before brushing his hair fondly. He grabs the bounty off of the horse, and slings the man over his shoulder. It’s impressive that he doesn’t struggle up the steps to the office even with a fully grown man thrown over his shoulder, the little boy follows after him as he goes inside.

You return to your organisation. There aren’t that many books, not like you used to have. But, while you wait for some of your teaching associates across the country to send you items, they will do. There’s enough paper and some slates for all your students to practice their writing and get their work written down which is a relief and even a globe that the general store owner, Mr Hewitt, had found in a back cupboard for you to have.

You’re trying to lift one of the boxes of books when he comes back out again, the little boy still trailing behind him, but this time something shiny is pinned to the man’s blue shirt. You don’t think too much about it as you struggle to lift the box, your heavy skirts not helping you move much, hindering your progress and causing you to trip each step forward you take.

You hear his boots on the wooden stairs before you see him, he towers over you, as he takes his hat off, more polite than most men in town. You get a better look at the shiny thing pinned to his shirt and realise it’s a sheriff’s badge. The same one the old sheriff used to wear, you look from it to him and then down when you hear a little giggle. The little boy is still following after him, a sweet smile turned on you this time as he leans around the man’s legs to watch you.

“Miss, I can take that.” He gestures to the box in your hand, it’s not a question, and it’s straight and to the point. But, you’re grateful for the offer and hand it off to him without complaint. He’s stronger than you, that’s clear to see, his arms thick from years of hard work.

“Thank you…” You wait for him to tell you his name, trailing off as you lead him into the saloon that has been set out for the school day. There is a black board at the front, tables and chairs littered around the room, the liquor shelves have been emptied for books to replace them.

The fact that Mr Karga had offered the saloon for the school was a miracle and while many in town grumbled about their favourite place of vice no longer admitting them during the day time, most were supportive of the decision to help the kids continue their school. Nevarro wasn’t a large town and mining was its main source of income, but the children deserved a chance to do more than just become miners and the school helped them do that. You helped them get into colleges on scholarships, to find jobs as clerks and apprentices in other parts of the country.

“Din Djarin.” It’s a nice name, rolls of his tongue like honey. He doesn’t smile, not really, not properly, but there’s a little crinkle at the corners of his eyes that soften his face and make him seem warmer somehow.

“And this little one?” You smile at the little boy as he begins to bravely step out from behind his guardian to greet you with a smile. He is a quiet boy, not the usual talkative sort you find with a six year old, but who knows what he’s been through even at this young age.

“Grogu, he’s my…” He furrows his brow, clearly thinking hard on the right word. That alone tells you he is not his son by blood, a small fact that makes him even more interesting. Not many bounty hunters would take in a small child. “Son.” he finally says. Deciding it is the best term. Grogu isn’t his by blood, Din knows this, but the little boy he’d found all alone surrounded by death, was slowly becoming like a son to him. Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood.

“Will he be joining my class? I run the school, currently we’re based here...in the saloon. Not my ideal place to teach but needs must.” You gesture around you to the makeshift classroom. You don’t like that the place still stinks of liquor or that at night it goes back to being a saloon where people drink, gamble, and fight. But, you don’t have a better place right now and the children need somewhere to learn. You can teach in any building, even if you dislike this one.

You fit the image of a school teacher he thinks. You look like a respectable young woman, dressed appropriately, all neat and proper. Your hair pulled up and pinned away like it’s supposed to be. Everything about you is proper. Part of him wants to see you become ruffled, stop being so demure. It’s a thought that makes him frown at himself, the thoughts inappropriate especially towards a lady like yourself.

“Yes. We’ll be staying for awhile. What happened to the school house, Miss…?” He took on the job as sheriff the moment the lawman offered it, the pay was good, gave him his own accommodation and it meant he could settle down for a bit, give the kid an actual childhood. Bounty hunting was something he was good at but it wasn’t exactly safe to do with a six year old in tow. At least this job used his skills catching lawbreakers and put them to use in a place the kid could grow up. It helps that the teacher of the town is pretty too, he thinks.

You give him your name before answering his question, “Well, after the last sheriff quit, the schoolhouse burnt down and along with all the things we had in it. Luckily it was at night and none of us were in the building. Burnt right down to the ground, nothing left…” You say it with a heavy sigh, thinking of that sweet little schoolhouse. The white painted wood, the familiar rows of desks with names carved in them, your favourite collection of university level texts at the back for the older and more advanced kids to explore. You had been teaching in that schoolhouse for the last five years and in a way it had become a second home for you, if you weren’t at your own little home, then you were in the schoolhouse marking work or planning lessons for the coming days.

“Anyone know what caused it?”

“No. We didn’t exactly have the mind to investigate and if it wasn’t an accident it was probably just some drunk who didn’t know any better. But, we make do and Grogu,” You crouch down next to the small child, moving your skirts to do so comfortably, “will fit right in, I think, don’t you?” The little boy smiles at you and giggles, before hiding behind his father’s leg again.

“Have any plans been made to rebuild the schoolhouse?” Sheriff Djarin it seems is very straight and to the point, his tone isn’t unkind or aggressive, but his words are clipped, short, brusque as if he’s not quite used to being more flowery or saying much. You supposed a bounty hunter didn’t typically need to say much, but you hope he’ll become more comfortable with talking, at least to you, as time goes on.

“No...i’ve been trying to put some pressure on the mayor to get it done but...he just doesn’t seem to care all that much now there’s a temporary solution.” You say as you begin unpacking the box that he brought inside, exercise books are brought out and sorted into piles, ready for the children to write their names on the covers and start afresh.

He frowns, brow furrowing deep, lips turned down at the thought of the schoolhouse just never being rebuilt. It’s clear to him that saloon isn’t the place for a school and it’s even clearer that you are distressed with your new working arrangement, that you miss having a building that is entirely your own and entirely dedicated to teaching young minds.

“I’ll sort something out. Is class starting soon?”

“Yes, not...not long now.” You double check the clock realising the kids will begin arriving in less than an hour and you feel wholly unprepared for the first day of school since the schoolhouse burnt down.

You watch him crouch in front of Grogu, hand ruffling his hair fondly, “You’re going to stay here today, get some learnin’ in ya. I’ve got things to do, but I'll be back later, promise.” You’re surprised and warmed when he puts out his pinky finger for the kid to grab, a little promise that seems to you like something more. You wonder if the boy was scared of being left again, if this was Din’s way of reassuring his new son that he wasn’t going to leave him. The little boy wraps his whole hand around Din’s pinkie not quite understanding how the promises work yet.

“Have a good day of teaching, Miss Y/N.” He nods his head at you, grabbing his hat as he walks out the saloon with a purpose. The hat is placed on his head the moment he’s out of the doors and it’s that little element of politeness that surprises you. He carries himself like a gentleman but looks like any other rough and tumble man wandering the west. But it’s his treatment of Grogu that confirms the sort of man that he is.

I’ll sort something out. You smiled to yourself realising that perhaps the new sheriff would be the best thing to happen to this town in a while. Someone who actually got things done for once.

“Do you want to find your seat? Maybe do some drawing before class starts, Grogu?” You ask the little boy smiling at him as he nervously shifts from foot to foot, looking back out the doors as if hoping his father would walk back in. It’s clear he hasn’t had to do this before, be separated from him and left with a stranger, but you put on your softest smile and gentlest voice and wait patiently for him to nod his head before offering him your hand.

He takes your hand and you help him get settled into his seat, you decide to put him near the front so you can help him easily and get him settled near you. He only knows you after all, and you think being around all the kids and far away from familiarity might be too much. You give him some paper, scrap bits that you don’t need anymore and a pencil leaving him to draw while you get ready for class.

---------------------

The school day goes...well, it’s hectic and your hair is frizzy and falling out of the updo you styled it in that morning by the end. The children are unsettled in this new environment, the older kids, those nearing adulthood frustrated by the younger kids who can’t seem to focus or be quiet. Your brain feels too large for your skull and you sigh out a goodbye to your students as they leave out the saloon doors, one or two shoving through the swinging shutters much faster than needed.

Grogu is the quietest of your students, sweet and attentive, he doesn’t speak a word, but follows your instructions well. He is behind on his writing letters and reading, that much you know from working with him, but he’s a quick learner and applies himself with a determination you rarely see. He doesn’t always play well with others. At lunch time you’d noticed him stealing food from the other children. It continued despite giving him your own lunch knowing his father hadn’t had time to prepare him something after coming straight into town and getting to work. He doesn’t share well either, but seemed to understand when you sat him down and talked to him about it. You suppose that being away from other children and only travelling with your father figure who would share his food with you without a thought, it must be confusing. The manners that he now has to observe, the rules of society that he’s never had to worry about until now. He looks suitably admonished despite the gentle way you chose to talk about it with him, that alone makes you think he’ll likely stop stealing the children’s cookies and be more willing to share.

“David, careful!” You call out when one of your older students nearly gets trampled underneath the sheriff’s horses’ hooves as he runs across the thoroughfare without looking.

“Sorry, miss!” David calls back over his shoulder, still storming ahead your warning lost on him.

You sigh heavily and rub at your temples, stress enveloping you. A tug, swift and sharp on your skirt has you looking down. Grogu has a hand fisted in the fabric, pulling to get your attention. Once he has it, his arms open, hands up towards you, opening and closing, a universal gesture to be lifted.

It surprises you, he is...quiet and reserved. You expected time to be needed before he was comfortable with you in any respect, especially after having to tell the boy off. Instead, he lets you lift him to your hip, hands reaching for strands of your hair and twisting them, surprisingly gently between his chubby little fingers.

You watch your students run in different directions through town, their books and lunch pails in tow. Some stop on the open green, playing games together before their parents demand them back home for dinner. The warm little body in your arms is a soothing presence and the boy almost looks like he wants to say something, but just makes a soft cooing sound instead.

“Not much of a talker are you, little one?” He almost shrugs his little shoulders before looking up at the sound of heavy footsteps and clinking spurs. The sheriff leads his horse up to you, eyes following David with a shake of his head. Clearly, just as bemused as you at his lack of common sense.

Grogu smiles and giggles happily at the sight of his father, arms reaching out for him. You pass him over to Din, trying to ignore how close you get to the man to do it. He radiates warmth and smells woodsy mixed with some sort of soap he must use. This close you can see little birthmarks dotted across his neck.

You step back once the boy is settled in his arms and smile, soft but tired. “Sheriff, how was your first day on the job?”

He gives you a humoured smirk, one you’re not expecting, it takes you aback slightly. He looks...charming, approachable. Little dimples at his cheeks that soften his features in a way that makes you want to step closer. With a huff, not quite a laugh, he says, “Eventful.”

“That makes two of us, sheriff.” He notices the tired creases beneath your eyes, the once unrumpled appearance now dishevelled, hair coming out of its updo and blouse and skirt wrinkled and creased. You look like you’d had a rough day and he hopes Grogu wasn’t part of the cause. He still hadn’t figured out how to discipline the kid, he always turned those big brown eyes on him and he just couldn’t tell him no.

“Din. Call me Din.”

“Then you should call me Y/N.” There’s a moment of silence. You stare at him, at the way his hat casts shadows over his face, at the gentle hold he has on Grogu, the open top buttons of his work shirt and the dig of suspenders into his shoulders. He stares back at you. The gentle softness of your cheek, the marks that make your skin your skin and not someone else's.

“We’re going to start building the schoolhouse as soon as the wood shipment gets here, I sent a telegram off today to get some good lumber in.” It surprises you in the most delightful way. When you said the mayor had been dragging his heels you meant it, but you hadn’t expected this new face to come in and make a start on what the mayor had been reluctant to do.

“We’re?”

“I’ve convinced some of the men around town to pitch in and I know a thing or two about building.” In truth he’d intimidated more than persuaded. Most of the men were lazy, and had more concern for their own vices than for helping out. But, a mixture of convincing them they’d get their saloon back and reminding them that he was now the town’s sheriff seemed to get a few of the stronger and more skilled townsfolk to agree to help.

“You’re the sheriff. You shouldn’t be building the schoolhouse, Din. You’ve got more important things to do.” You feel bad that he’s doing this, being quite so involved, when he’s starting a new job, one that takes up most of his time. Being a sheriff is a full time job, almost 24 hours a day 7 days a week. He has people to keep in line, criminals to catch, laws to enforce, and building a schoolhouse wasn’t on his list of priorities. It’s sweet and makes your heart ache oddly, but you feel guilty for adding another thing to his plate.

“This is important, Miss...Y/N. The kid can’t learn in a saloon forever and you can’t work here forever neither.” He can see how desperately you want your schoolhouse back and something in him wants to provide that for you, to care for you. He tells himself it’s also for the kid, that his son deserves a proper schoolhouse to learn in. That all foundlings, all little children deserved a place to learn, like he had growing up in the covert.

“At least...at least let me and the children bring food and water down once you get started. I...you’ve not even been here a whole day and you’re already doing more than anyone else ever has...Thank you, Din.”

“It’s my pleasure, meg ba'jurir” You do not understand what he calls you, but you recognise that cadence, the rhythm of the language. Can almost see the symbolic nature of the alphabet. It surprises you that he knows what you’re sure is Mando’a, having only heard one other person in your life ever speak it. Mandalorian family groups were uncommon, but where they were they seemed to keep people in order, to value community. It made sense that he would take on the job of sheriff, adopt a child not of his own blood, if that were the case.

You bite your tongue and don’t ask, you don’t know him and it is too personal to ask about his upbringing, culture or heritage. Perhaps, after you know him better you can ask, but you can almost hear your headmistress at school reminding you about manners and decorum even in a little mining town.

“He didn’t...he didn’t cause any trouble today did he? He’s not used to being around others or...we’ve been on the road for a long time now.” He looks down at the little boy sitting at his hip, who’s playing with the metal star on his shirt. He knew that Grogu could be difficult, sweet, adorable, hard to say no to, but undisciplined and not used to the rules that people usually abided by.

“I...I did have to have a word with him today…” You can already tell Din’s disappointed. He clearly loves the boy, but part of loving a child is wanting better for them and getting in trouble isn’t part of that.

Din sighs heavily before catching the boy’s eye, “Ad’ika…”The boy clearly knows what’s going on and hides his face in his father’s shirt, suitably embarrassed about his behaviour. You think that’s enough to probably deter him from stealing from other kids in the future. You also think you might bake him some treats and use them as an incentive to work hard. You suspect bribery would work well with Grogu.

“He paid attention beautifully and he’s already doing so well with learning his letters, but he’s...he’s quite…” You try to think of the best way to say that the boy just can’t resist taking other children’s food.

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, Y/N. You can tell me.” You look Din in the eyes, deep brown meeting your own and sigh out before speaking.

“He likes to steal the other children’s food. I gave him my lunch and he still tried to steal Charlie’s cookies and Mary Beth’s macarons. I know he’s probably used to food being a thing he can just have since you’ve been travelling as a family unit…”

“Osik... I forgot to give him lunch. I am a terrible father…” Din looks at his feet, free hand rubbing over the scruff on his jaw. You feel the instant need to reassure him.

“You’re not a terrible father. You just came into town this morning, immediately took on a job, and instantly went to work. You’re not a terrible father.” You hesitate, but reach forward anyway, a hand on his arm giving a quick reassuring squeeze.

“Vor entye, Y/N. Thank you. Have you eaten?”

“Oh…” You hadn’t really thought about it, that you’d given your food to Grogu to stop him going hungry and that you’d spent all day teaching with little more than the porridge you’d made yourself that morning to keep you going.

“Don’t even think about lying to the sheriff.” You did in fact consider lying to him, but the look he gave you reminded you of an overbearing mother hen who wouldn’t let you get away with it. Combined with the fact he was indeed the new sheriff, you felt it best to stick to the truth for now.

“No...I haven’t.” You admit, feeling suitably admonished by him and a little guilty for even considering lying about.

Din adjusts Grogu on his hip and nods his head behind him towards the street, “Come, I’ll buy you dinner at the café.”

“You don’t have to, Din. I can make dinner at home.” You think back to the soup you were going to make that night, and even though you haven’t the energy in truth to make dinner, you can’t ask him to buy you it. It is too much and unnecessary. Any good teacher would have made sure their students were fed.

“You kept my ad fed in place of yourself. I’m buying you dinner.” His voice left no room for argument and so you found yourself following after him across the street towards Reeva’s Café.

---------------------

Din’s presence in town becomes apparent very quickly. He does not allow the men to wander drunk through the streets, start fights, or harass women. He does not suffer law breakers or those who cause the peace to break. He is swift, effective, and there isn’t a member of town who doesn’t respect his authority even if some don’t particularly like having to listen to him.

For you it is a refreshing change. You don’t worry about the children wandering around town in the evenings or about walking out of your home at night. You don’t worry about your meager belongings being stolen or a fight breaking out in the saloon on an evening and ruining the few bits you have for the school.

He is quiet and polite, not much of a talker, but everything he does shows a man of honour and good morals. He is sweet with the children as well.

It had become common place for him, while waiting for the lumber to begin the schoolhouse, to come into the saloon while you were teaching. He said it was because the day time left little for him to do as sheriff, but you think he just enjoys helping with the children. They make him smile. A real smile.

Sometimes he just sits with his son on his lap and helps him with his letters, other times he wanders between tables helping those who need it or using his presence to quiet the children after an exciting lunch break. Reminding them to respect you, their teacher, and listen.

Your favourite, and the childrens’ favourite times were when he’d sit down and tell them stories of his travels. For a man who didn’t speak much, Din Djarin was a natural born storyteller.

That’s how you found yourself taking a step back, sitting on one of the saloon bar stools off to the side as Din took your place at the front of the class. He had an ability with the little ones that amazed you, none were ever scared of him despite his height, posturing or the guns holstered at his side and slung over his back. He always managed to make them smile and laugh, always got their curiosity going and inspired them equally. He made it a point whenever he talked to your class to share stories of both men and women he’d met who’d done amazing things, you could tell he was trying to get the girls in your class to see they could be more than housewives or washerwomen and you appreciated it.

“So there I am standing toe to toe with the biggest grizzly you’ve ever seen…” He gestures with his hands, standing at the front, arms out front to show just how large this grizzly bear was. His voice took on a different, more dramatic quality then normal. Grogu clapped his hands from his seat on your lap, the little boy having grown increasingly comfortable around you.

“Now this grizzly has to be 8ft standin’, and he’s the angriest bear you’ve ever seen and i’m sure that’s the end of me. I’m about to become a grizzly bear’s dinner, Sheriff Djarin stew!” You laugh along with the kids at the prospect of Din becoming stew for a grizzly bear, you’re never sure how much is fiction or truth in his stories, although part of you wouldn’t be surprised if they were all completely true. He was...he always seemed larger than life despite being so quiet. Like some sort of figure out of a western story.

“When out of nowhere, charging between me and this mean grizzly, comes the largest bull moose I've ever seen…”

“What’d you do?” Mary Beth pipes up, big blue eyes open wide.

“Well, I got the he-” He stops himself looking at you, you raise an eyebrow reminding him that cussing around the children would not do well for him, “-out of there as quickly as I could! One thing you should never do is stay around to fight a grizzly, never ends well to go toe to toe with one. That moose was being kind and giving me a chance to get away.” It amuses you that he always manages to twist a moral into the story. This time about kindness and helping those weaker than yourself, along with a healthy dose of not getting into situations with angry grizzly bears of course.

“Well, I think it’s time I let Miss Y/N, get on with her mathematics lesson.” Groans and grumbling rises up from your students as you place Grogu in his seat and begin making your way to the front. You watch Din frown at them, hands on his belt, leaning into one hip more than the other. He is the perfect picture of a disappointed father. Lips twisting downwards, pulling on his moustache.

“Hey, now! Miss Y/N always makes your lessons fun so don’t you start giving her trouble or else i’ll have to stop coming in for story time.” It’s a threat that promptly has them settling quietly in their chairs and getting their books and pencils out.

You rest a gentle hand on his arm when you reach him, quietly telling him thank you. It’s heavy with meaning. Thank you for being there for the children. Thank you for providing them with stories. Thank you for always settling them and reminding them to respect me. Thank you for thinking about the schoolhouse. Thank you for settling the town and keeping the peace.

He just nods at you with the smallest hint of a smile, enough to make you feel the tiniest bit flustered as you watch him walk to the chair where he’d left his hat, holsters, and lasso.

“Say goodbye to the sheriff, children.” You tell them as all of you watch him make his way to the doors. He stops before them and tips his hat at you all with a smile, but the moment he’s out the doors it drops and in his place is the hard sheriff who won’t stand for trouble.

---------------------

Once the lumber comes in and the plans have been drawn up and approved by yourself, at Din’s insistence, the work begins. The schoolhouse design had been run past you because Din didn’t want to miss anything that was needed or that would help you teach. He had told you not to worry about size, scale or cost, that the community was pitching in and that the mayor had found a fund tucked away somewhere for the school. The fund miraculously appeared after Din had a long meaningful chat with him.

He wouldn’t tell you that he’d made threats against the mayor about digging up some of his dirty laundry, but he had. The mayor had a lot of skeletons in his closet and also a nice stack of credits he was sitting on in his own personal mayoral vault. The fact that the mayor had been so reluctant to rebuild the schoolhouse when he easily could have almost made Din see red, but he didn’t think it would look good if he beat the man to the curb as sheriff. He was supposed to be upstanding and law abiding, if he wasn’t why would any of the townsfolk be?

A few days into the project you decided it was time you made good on your promise to come to the site during lunch time with the children to bring water and some food. You and the children collect pails of water and the baked goods you’d made the night before, trudging through the streets. You held Grogu on one hip, the small child the slowest of his classmates, and carried a heavy pail of water in the other, so heavy your shoulder slumped down on that side to accommodate the weight.

The children were happy to help, after all, many of their fathers and older brothers were working on the school site and it was a chance in the school day to see people they cared about. You were also sure they wanted to ask the sheriff a multitude of questions and beg for a story, but you’d reminded them that they weren’t there to get in the way or interrupt the work, just to offer food and water.

You’d reluctantly admitted to Reeva that you found the sheriff attractive, after the older woman badgered you day in and day out about the time you spent with him. You could admit he was handsome. His eyes were deep brown and spoke more words then he often did. He had both a look that could intimidate and also soften into something warm and safe. The beard and moustache he sported made him look ruggedly handsome and his shoulders were broad and wide. He looked like he’d stepped out of a story book or from an illustrated newspaper short story. Rugged but clean, dangerous but kind.

You had to admit though that this was your favourite look on him. As you came upon the building site he was busy sawing a plank of pine in two. His shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow exposing his strong forearms and thick wrists. His suspenders had been flung off his shoulders, resting at sides no longer covering the strong back that was tensed as he worked. The top few buttons of his shirt had come undone, almost indecently so to show a pronounced collar bone, strong neck, and dark chest hair and the brown hair on his head had begun to curl from the sweat he was working up. It shouldn’t have been attractive. He should have looked like any other man working up a sweat, you shouldn’t have wanted to wipe his brow and brush your fingers through the curls of his hair. But you did.

Taking a deep breath to compose yourself you look down at the little boy at your hip, “Should we go say hello to your father?”

“Papa!” He clapped his hands at you in confirmation. You’d slowly learnt that papa was one of the only words he said, you weren’t sure if he chose not to speak or simply couldn’t. But, given his increasing aptitude with writing his letters, you thought it likely that he simply chose not to speak.

The call instantly has Din’s head popping up from his work like a startled deer and you watch as his eyes roam across the children until he catches sight of his son at your hip. The smile that lights his face is so bright that it’s almost blinding, there is a longing you feel whenever you see his happiness to see Grogu. Some deep part of you that desires that sort of family bond. He loves his son so deeply, it doesn’t matter to him that their blood isn’t the same and part of you wants desperately to be part of that love and happiness.

“Children, hand out the food and water, will you? But be careful!” You remind them as they run towards familiar faces, it is still a building site after all, and the last thing you need is a child getting hurt in any way.

Din finishes sawing the plank before striding over to you, hand pulling a rag from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow. You look...radiant. The summer sun shining over you, causing your skin to glow, your hair to shine. Your smile is as soft as your eyes and you're gentle in the way you hold his son to your hip, like he belonged there. Like the two of you belonged together. Din can admit that he enjoys your company more than he probably should, he can even admit that a part of him deeply desires you, wants you to join his family unit, become part of his aliit. You’re tender and kind to all the children you teach, your children as you often call them, and you’re incredibly kind to Grogu who you treat with more understanding than most school teachers ever would. You keep order in your classroom through kindness and mutual respect, not through fear or punishment. The maternal shine to you draws him to you in a way that, had he not been Mandalorian, he might be ashamed of. But, family is everything to him, Grogu is everything to him and if he is to put down roots here, he can’t help but consider putting down roots with you.

It’s a silly thought though, you’ve not known each other long and he isn’t well to do or gentlemanly. You’re far better educated than him, kinder than him, and it is a pipe dream that he doubts will ever come to fruition. It doesn’t help that he struggles at times to even talk to you, let alone make his feelings known.

“Miss me, Ad’ika?” He calls to the little boy, carefully pulling him from your arms when you offer him. If you allow yourself to, you can almost imagine he’s taking your own child from you, that the two of you have formed some sort of family. But, you are just his son’s teacher and he is just the sheriff of your small town.

The boy babbles at him, not real words, nonsense, or attempts at words that don’t translate, but you can see that improving. Can almost imagine what settling down here can do for the boy, give him a chance to learn, grow, make friends, and find some stability and safety.

“He’s been itching to come over all day, they all have. I was struggling to get them to focus on their history lesson.” You had 15 children all desperate to get out of the saloon and visit their fathers for lunch. It had been a...very difficult lesson to say the least and you still felt a little frazzled.

“History?” The boy tugs at his father’s hair and you watch him wince as he speaks, pulling little chubby hands from brown curls.

“The fall of the empire and the rise of the republic. Not the most riveting subject for them I'm sure, they much prefer when I tell them about different societies rather than politics.” You want to say like Mandalore and the Mandalorians because you want to draw him in, desperate to have more of his time even when he’s already doing so much for you. You enjoy the odd hour here and there when he takes over your class and becomes the teacher, where you can just sit and listen, learn yourself.

“Mandalorians believe that our history is our future. We learn it as soon as we can walk.”

“So it is Mando’a you’ve been speaking?” It warms you to see him open up to you like this. He is a private man, quiet, and insular. While he can yell with the best, and demand attention, can intimidate and even persuade, it’s all part of his job. The face he puts on as sheriff. He is quiet about himself, sharing little and not so often. You revel in the trust placed in you wherever he tells you a little something more about himself.

“You noticed?” Most people don’t even know Mando’a exists, let alone recognise that the words he slips into his speech are such. He finds they slip out more around you, than with others. He’s comfortable with, he is happy to share himself, his culture with you and it...it is a startling discovery about himself. He has been insular and closed off for longer than he would like to admit.

“I can’t speak it and I..I don’t know it well, but, I recognise the cadence. I grew up in Naboo and there was a Mandalorian there, she used to speak it when I would sit and practice my letters with her.” Atin’a Caivass was a kind woman to you even if she could be hard. She had been one of your teachers, always pushing you harder, to do better. Yet, it had never felt frustrating or like a chore, the Mandalorian had always made it a desire to impress her, but also to prove to yourself that you could. She had always been kind to you and the other children, gentle but firm, like you were one of her own. You saw similarities with how Din treated the children. He was kind and gentle, but never overlooked an opportunity to firmly correct their behaviour or mistakes. A perfect balance. Not too soft and not too harsh.

“You never learnt?”

“She was very protective of it and I...I was always too afraid to ask.” You confess. You had always been fascinated with it, like any young child when faced with a new language, but you had always believed it something sacred, and had worried that you would offend her if you asked to learn. “Ad’ika? What does it mean?”

He can’t help but laugh at your pronunciation and sounds it out for you, “Ah-Dee-Kah, it means little one.”

“Ah-dee-kuh?” You are even more beautiful, he thinks when you butcher his language, trying so hard to get it right that your eyebrows scrunch together and your eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Ah-Dee-Kah” The little one squirms in his arms and he places him on the ground, only to watch him plunk himself on his bottom and play with the dirt. He had always had a fascination with dirt and rocks, more so than any of the toys he had actually brought or made him.

“Ah-Dee-Kah”

“Perfect.” You smile blindingly at his praise and he wonders if he can forgo his job as sheriff and simply teach you Mando’a every minute of every day. “You can always ask. If you want to learn. It’s nice to hear it from another person’s lips, not just mine.”

“I would like that very much...maybe when you’re less busy? You’re rather booked up at the moment, what with being sheriff, storytime for the children, and building a schoolhouse. You’re a busy man, Din Djarin.”

“I like to keep my hands busy.” You look down at your feet before looking back up at him, unsure how to respond to what you were sure was meant as a perfectly innocent comment. Din almost swears, osik, once he realises how that sounds, lifting hand to the back of his neck to rub it.

The silence that you fall into isn’t uncomfortable necessarily, but feels almost solid, like a physical thing and not just the quiet that comes with two people not talking for a moment. There’s a tension there that is not wholly unpleasant but hard to describe or pin down.

Seeming to remember the pail of water you’re carrying you place it in front of him, “Water, so you can clean off or if you’re thirsty. There’s some pastries somewhere as well, to keep you all fed...Can’t have you keeling over on us or else we’d never get our schoolhouse.”

You take a step back and cast your gaze around, making note of where each of your 15 kids are. You’re caught watching Jerome splash water on Annie, about to go and tell him off when you hear splashing much closer to you.

You thought he couldn’t excite you more than he already had. Thought that Din Djarin couldn’t possibly tempt you more, cause your well-mannered sensibilities to crumble further. You were utterly, terribly, ridiculously wrong.

There’s something to be said about the man pouring half a pail of water over his head to rub away the sweat and dirt from a hard day working in the summer sun. He flicks his head back, long neck outstretched as water droplets fall like mirror glass over his tanned skin. His hair sticks to his skin, kissing it in a way you realise you desperately want to and his shirt clings to broad shoulders with the familiarity of a lover.

You spin back around away from him flustered, determined not to look as you march towards Jerome. You decide in that moment that perhaps it’s best not to bring pails of water at lunch time. You might just not survive to see the school built.

---------------------

For the next two months your routine features lunch time trips with the children to bring water and sometimes food to the men building the schoolhouse, and the odd afternoon story time hour when Din feels confident enough to leave the others to continue working without his guidance. Each day the schoolhouse comes together more and more and each day you fall a little bit more in...in whatever these feelings for the sheriff were.

You also have the startling realisation that Grogu has wormed his little way into your heart in a way that none of your other students have. You have a soft spot for the little boy, especially as he becomes more vocal, begins to say more little words, including the delightful name ‘Miss Y/N’.

Din is a temptation in himself, each time he teaches you another word or phrase in Mando’a and his lips wrap around syllables or every time he works hard to build the schoolhouse muscles pulling taut underneath the weight of wood. He tempts you in a way that no one ever has and you can’t quite explain what it is about this man that makes you desire to be in his presence, to kiss him, to hold him, to be close to him both physically and emotionally. You want to know everything about him, to understand him better than you understand yourself.

In some ways it is a relief when the schoolhouse is finished and in other ways it feels like a loss. Part of your routine, part of the day where you always see Din was no longer needed or necessary.

When you bring the children over at lunch time, it’s to show them the finished building, the one they’ll be in come Monday morning once you have the time to move all the books and other odds and ends into it. They’re all excited as are you, to see it...it strikes you in the heart so badly that you can’t move your feet, can only stare at the building with tears in your eyes.

It’s beautiful. Not large, but larger than the old one. Freshly painted white, with a school bell hanging out front. It strikes you that this isn’t just a schoolhouse, but it’s your schoolhouse. Din had been adamant about building it for you.

“Children, why don’t you go inside and take a look? You’ll be here on Monday!” You wave them all off as they run ahead and up the wooden steps, throwing the door open none too gently. “Careful! We only just got it!” You call out and receive a series of sorries back.

“Shall we go find your buir?” You look down at Grogu, who’s hand is holding the heavy fabric of your skirt. He smiles up at you and nods his head with a quick little ‘papa’ that has your heart warming.

You hear him before you see him, “Now don’t go breaking the tables when we’ve only just put them together, girls!” Already laying down the law to 3 of your children as you enter the schoolhouse. They had seemingly been swinging on tables in a most ill-mannered fashion that has you putting on your teacher-face and raising an eyebrow at them from behind Din. They promptly stop and return their feet to the floor with an abashed look.

“Sorry, Sheriff. Sorry Miss.” They call to you both before scurrying away in hopes of avoiding punishment, leaving you, Din and Grogu alone in the main room for the building. You let it go. It isn’t an issue, they need to learn to respect things, and not damage them, but that does not have to come at the cost of punishment when a quick look and a reminder does enough.

Din spins at them calling out to you, faster than he seems to have expected, looking decidedly dizzy for a second before the mask of sheriff falls right back into place.

“Y/N, how do you like it?” He opens his arms wide and gestures to the main room of the schoolhouse. A large blackboard already nailed to the wall at the back, rows of tables and chairs set up so every child could see you. A desk at the front for your things. It is sweet and fits your needs infinitely better than a saloon ever would. You even note the bookcases along the walls, enough space to place many of your books for the children to have easy access for when they wish to learn something more than you could teach them.

“It’s...it’s wonderful, Din. It’s beautiful. I...I can’t thank you enough...I...I’m a little lost for words.” You can feel the happy tears starting to pool in your eyes again, the gratitude making you a little bit emotional. “I don’t think I can ever repay you for this.”

“You...you don’t need to repay me, Mesh’la. This...you and the children deserve a school, a place to teach and learn. You don’t have to thank me or repay me for doing what the damn mayor should have done in the first place.”

You nearly don’t do it. Nearly let that fear that wells up inside you and the proper manners, the belief that you were about to be far too forward than was ladylike, stop you. But, you think back to his kindness, his gentle nature, the calm and order he’s brought to town. The son of his that you have a large soft spot for. The handsomeness of his features, the sharpness of his profile. The gentle hand he always places on your back as he helps escort you somewhere. The respect he shows you at every turn and his willingness to share his culture and upbringing with you. You think of all the things that make up the Din Djarin you know and you think of what he has come to mean to you.

With a silent prayer and an apology to your late headmistress for being more forward than is ladylike, you push yourself forward and into him. Lips soft and chaste lifting to meet his, only briefly. You do not push for more than a second of contact, but it is enough, you hope, to get the thought and intent across. That he is someone you would like to get to know more, that he is someone you could happily be courted by, even marry one day.

He doesn’t even have time to blink, it happens so fast. One minute you are standing a few steps away from him thanking him, the next your lips are pressed to his in the shortest sweetest kiss he’s ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of. It takes another second for him to realise what’s happened before he’s reaching a hand out to cup the nape of your neck and drag your lips back to his for a significantly more substantial kiss that leaves you a little breathless.

When you pull away from each other you don’t go far. Din presses his forehead to yours, hawkish nose pressing into your cheek, a soft touch that grounds you with his presence. The hand at your neck, rubs a soothing thumb across your skin. Your own have chosen to grasp at the suspenders over his shoulders, to keep in close proximity.

“I’d very much like to court you, Miss Y/N.”

“I think i’d like that, sheriff.”

---------------------

Mando’a Translations

Meg Ba'jurir - roughest way I could get to someone who educates or a teacher with meg being who and ba’jurir being educate

Osik - Shit

Vor entye - Thank You

Ad - son

Ad’ika - Little one, term of endearment for small children

Buir - Father also Mother basically parent.

Mesh’la - Beautiful

Aliit - Family (Clan)

---------------------

Taglist for this fic:

@lex-ham

#din djarin x reader #din djarin / reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian reader insert #reader insert #readerinsert #western au #putting down roots #din djarinxreader #din djarin/reader #female reader #female identifying reader

228 notes · View notes

astarkey · 3 years

Note

I'm sending them in now, but you can save them for later too lol SethKate prompts: camera and/or bubbles! 💖💖💖

Okay, so I did like a pretty long one-shot for "camera." I couldn't think of one for "bubbles" or how to include it, but it'll probably come to me in the future, who knows lol. Sorry that it took so long for me to write it (since it was supposed to be for the July prompt, but it's still summer, so I'm not entirely too late on this ask!!!), but I hope you like it 😅 and thank you so much for sending these!!! 🤗💖💕💖

5. Camera

"So, what's this doohickey?" Kate asks while fiddling with the black gadget that's no bigger than her palm.

"That would be a Polaroid camera," Seth answers as he waltzes through the antique store to stand beside her.

"Oh, I've heard about these! I think I used it once when I was a kid, but it was so long ago that I forgot what it looked like. I wonder if there's any film left in this."

"Actually, we carry film for that camera if you're looking to purchase it," the young clerk behind the desk replies, finally turning away from the comic book his eyes were glued to.

"Oh, perfect! Yes, I am thinking of purchasing this," Kate smirks and raises her brows at Seth, and he's shaking his head. "Oh, Seth, come on! It'll be fun to use for our trip to the beach."

"Oh no, your idea of ‘fun’ will be taking a bunch of snapshots before we even make it to the beach."

Kate glares at him and says, "No, I won’t. Okay, I promise to snap only a few shots just to put your mind at ease.”

"You can do whatever you want with it, sweetheart, but you don't need my permission to buy it. If you wanna buy the camera, go ahead."

She buys the Polaroid camera, along with a pack of film, and they zip out of the small shop that sits alone on the side of the desert road, heading toward their destination. Further down the road, she takes the camera out of the flimsy plastic bag, and she thinks of testing it out. She could take photos of the few cactus or power lines Seth drives past, but it would only end up blurry on film. She pinches her lips to the side and looks at Seth, and the bright yellow Hawaiian shirt he's buttoned up in. Even though Kate bought it as a joke—since Seth's wardrobe comprises the color black—it surprises her that he's still wearing it, and hasn't taken it off yet. She switches the flash off and aims the camera at him, and he’s not budging. He doesn’t even budge when the sound of the shutter goes off.

“And so it begins,” Seth mumbles, following a heavy sigh, and Kate rolls her eyes while shaking the photo in her hand.

***

Kate sneaks in a selfie, posing for the camera while Seth is busy swimming in the vast ocean. She quickly shakes the photo, hoping Seth wouldn’t notice when he comes out of the water; and after the photo is in full color, she tosses it in her beach bag—with the rest of her pile of photos she took behind Seth's back when they were on the road—and hides the camera in the bag just in time as he’s walking back to their spot, wiping the saltwater away from his eyes.

“Did you have a good swim?” Kate asks, looking up from the magazine she pretends to read. She glances at Seth laying next to her under the shade of his umbrella, not bothering to dry himself off as he lets the water beads glisten on his legs.

"It was just what I needed. Surprised you didn't stay out there long, since this was your idea."

"I just wanted a quick break."

"To do what? Read this?" He snatches the magazine from her lap and reads the page out loud. "'Twenty-five steamy ideas to do with a naked man?' Well, getting naked with me, that's already happened. 'Take a shower together,' been there, done that. The hands-off policy sounds like a challenge." His eyes grow bigger as he looks closer at the page. "'Ask him to do yoga?'"

Kate quickly snatches the magazine back and slaps his leg with it while she says, "I was not reading that!"

"But it wouldn't hurt to look; those looked like some great ideas, babe. Not sure about the yoga bit, but if you want me to do that for you I can start practicing." Kate grimaces at the idea and he asks, "What's wrong? Don't feel like getting a little creative in our relationship?" She looks at him as he waits for her to answer, flashing his thick eyebrows and smirking at her; but she knows his games and does not want to feed into his amusement.

"I think we're creative enough." After flipping a couple pages, she closes the magazine. "Besides, I didn't see you staying in the water long enough, either."

"I wanted a break."

"Yeah? And to do what, exactly?"

"See if you're okay."

It has been six months since Amaru's defeat, and six months of healing for Kate. It's been a slow and steady process and she still has a long way to go, but at least she's not alone in the fight with Seth promising to help her as much as he can; both taking each day one step at a time. And even as she finds it a little annoying for Seth to keep checking up on her practically every day, she loves him for it.

"I'm okay," she answers.

"Yeah?" he says, and she reassures him. "Shocked that you didn't bring your camera out here. Could've gotten a nice shot of this view."

"No. I promised I wouldn't take a bunch of pictures and I'm not gonna break that promise."

The corners of his mouth curl up as he laughs to himself. He looks at her once again. His eyes wander around her face down to her body that's covered in a turquoise-colored two-piece bikini; his view isn't of the ocean right now, it's of her. He tugs at the yellow towel she's sitting on, pulling her so close to him she's underneath his umbrella now. Already taking the hint, she pecks him on the lips and holds the back of his head as he kisses her back. In the middle of their embrace, as they’re lip-locking each other, Kate frees her right hand and roams around the sand, searching for her bag. Feeling the bag behind her and feeling the camera inside, she pulls it out, and with one eye open, tries to get it at a good angle where both of them can be in the photo. Now, with both of her eyes closed and feeling the weight of Seth pressing against her stomach as he moves on top of her, she presses the button and the sound of the shutter goes off, and he stops moving altogether and breaks the kiss.

"Really?" he asks rhetorically.

"You know, this could really be useful in spicing up our relationship," Kate comments, taking the photo with her as she stands up to leave him by his lonesome, "As a matter of fact, this photo is so cute, I think I'll keep it and put it in a scrapbook to show to our kids in the future."

"Seriously, hand it here."

"Nope!"

"Look, don't make me chase after you."

"I guess you're just going to have to chase me for it, then." Kate dangles the picture above her head, grinning, and Seth gets up and starts running.

Kate runs across the beach, the sand sticking between her toes as she picks up speed, but she yelps when she feels Seth seize her from behind, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her up. She yells as he swings her around the shore, and she laughs as if she hasn't in years. After the spin, he lands on top of her, smiling as he gazes into her eyes.

"What?" she asks while stroking her finger along the side of his face.

"What you said before, about how that girl you once were was long gone. I don't think that's entirely true."

"What made you think that?"

"Because I'm looking at her right now."

Her eyes begin to well up and she tries to fight back the tears, but Seth dries them before they have a chance to spill. He lowers himself down to kiss her, and they hold each other as the ocean waves collide against their bodies. They're left standing, and the photo Kate accidentally dropped—when Seth tackled her—sweeps away, drifting off to sea.

#yossariandawn #questions and mentions #sethkate #fdtd #it's been a while but I finally finished it this morning #I wasn't in the right headspace for a couple of weeks to write it #so it's probably why it looks so bad lol #but when I thought about seth saying that last line I almost cried and added it in there #these two make me so emotional lmfao #the yellow hawaiian shirt makes an appearance #and there's no way kate wouldn't take a photo of him wearing it #and keep it as evidence to show to richie when they get back from their trip lol

21 notes · View notes

x0401x · 3 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #16

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

← Previous || Index || Next →

Colombo’s Bookstore

Sri Lanka didn’t have as many bookstores as Japan. It had about three times as many used car shops as in Japan, I believed. But there were few bookstores.

In the first place, be them used car stores or bookstores, the shops were by no means big. This country was a tiny island with a national territory smaller than Japan’s, so lands that had forest reserves of local nature in them and real estate were probably valuable. If anything, I had an affinity for the place. But it was a pity that the bookstores were so few.

I often spent my time alone nowadays, so above all else, I appreciated having anything to read. I wasn’t the bookworm type, but there were just too many book-selling places in Japan. If you were getting off at some notable station in Tokyo, no matter which one it was, there would be at least one bookstore within walking distance. I also had a fresh memory of Saul-san telling me that “Japanese people really like their books”.

A street vendor was selling scissors in front of a bookstore in the sunlit streets of Colombo, the capital of Sri Lanka. Why did he decide to sell scissors by the road? And right before my eyes, a person on a bus riding slowly down the avenue was buying a pair of scissors from him. Did they have some bag that they wanted to cut open no matter what or something? I had no idea, but anyway, this was a world that operated with standards different from Japan’s, in which supply and demand were apparently well-established.

With glass doors, the bookstore had a magnificent structure and felt nice and cold when I stepped in. The study reference books were on the second floor, so I went up the arched stairs that parted to left and right, searching for the shelf that I was aiming for.

There you are.

I took three books from it, and when I went to the checkout, the female clerk, dressed in a sari, asked me, “Is this all?” in English. The official languages of this country were English, Sinhala and Tamil, with English being spoken by both Sinhalese and Tamils. I believed she was Sinhalese. Because the sari was not a Hindu but a Buddhist thing.

“These are volumes 2, 3 and 4. What about volume 1?”

“I bought just volume 1 a while ago. And it was really good, so I also wanted to learn the rest from this book series.”

“So you’re studying Sinhala. That’s rare. Where are you from?”

“I’m Japanese,” I answered.

What I had come to buy was a Sinhala language study reference book. It was a book for people who couldn’t read Sinhala, so it was, of course, written in English. Even so, I had read it a little before traveling. I also found and purchased a Sinhala language study reference book written by a Japanese scholar, which I was able to buy in Japan.

Regardless, it was kind of useless for my range of understanding, so I almost felt like throwing it away before I could learn anything. I told Saul-san about this when asking him for advice, at which he burst into laughter and then bought me a red paperback book.

A Sinhala book written in English.

The letters were very large and there weren’t too many words. As for the quality of the paper, on the bright side, it was straw paper, and on the downside, it was gray and flimsy. But the contents were very easy to understand and the insides were firmly packed.

This reference book taught Sinhala letters first, as well as the meaning and pronunciation of each one. From that point onward, I couldn’t be more thankful for it. Sinhala was a language written with a Sinhalese alphabet, after all. In addition to vowels such as A, I, U, E and O, it jumped on to a variety of consonants and other symbols that stuck one letter to another like joints. It explained each of them carefully so that even people who didn’t know Sinhalese at all could understand them. This book solved a large percentage of the problem that I had stumbled upon, namely “I can’t find the commonalities and differences between letters, so I don’t know how to tell them apart and can’t organize them in my head”. I was grateful for that. There was no need to ask Richard-sensei for a foreign language course via international call all the time anymore.

That being said, there were many letters in Sinhala. Meaning that there were several pronunciations. You’d think that the Japanese syllabary was cute in comparison. Not all of it could be explained in one book, and the lectures were extended over to the second volume, but Saul-san had bought only one book, in case it didn’t suit me. The results were as could be seen. It was the same kind of joy as reading one book from a novel series and then buying all the sequels.

Learning languages was fun. By the looks of it, learning how to link them directly to communication was what worked for me.

“But can’t you live in Sri Lanka while speaking English, even if you don’t understand Sinhala? Are you on a business trip?”

“Something like that, but if possible, I’d like to talk to people using a Sri Lankan language. I’m Japanese, but I’ve had the experience of being a bit happy when someone from a foreign country spoke in Japanese to me, so now I guess it’s my turn.”

“You have so much free time, huh!”

I had no words to reply. The clerk and I burst into laughter without any reserve and finished the checkout. As I went down the arched stairs, I found a space where they were selling festival tools, stationery and picture books. Many of the same books were arranged on two sides.

Or so I thought.

But that was apparently not it. What I thought to be the exact same large-format picture books were the English version and the Sinhala version. You’d miss it if you were distracted because the pictures were the same, but the picture book, which was probably a Sri Lankan version of a “Japanese folktale”-like work, was published in two languages.

“Y’see, the ones who buy these are parents who want their kids to learn English. ‘Cause speaking English comes in handy.”

When I turned around, the clerk who had been at the cash register on the second floor was right behind me. It seemed she had come to see me off. Apparently, the cashier on the first floor called out to her, telling her to go back to work or something like that, to which she replied at length, and the two exchanged laughs. Maybe the people in this bookstore were cheerful, as not all Sri Lankans expressed their emotions so openly.

“This one is the ‘Mean Old Man’. This one is ‘The Perahera Festival’.”

“Can even a small child understand it well?”

“Of course. This book is big so that it’s easy to read to them.”

Indeed, it was a thin picture book of a size larger than A4. In Japan, it wouldn’t be strange for it to have an anime or manga-style art, but the art of this one had an ethnic touch to it, perhaps to match the contents. The colors were rich, the mean old man was drawn in a vile yet comical way, and the blue gradation of the feathers in a bird’s tail looked tasteful.

“Hum, excuse me. Can I buy this too?”

“You’re going to buy it? Do you have children?”

“I’ll read it myself.”

The clerk laughed again, but after a moment, she made a straight face and told me that it certainly might be perfect for studying. I bought the picture book at the cash register on the first floor. Either way, it cost about 500 Sri Lankan rupees, which was about 600 Japanese yen, but in the eyes of this country’s people, that was probably quite a high price. This was a world of 10 rupees for a loaf of bread and 3 rupees for a cup of tea. Thinking like that, I could understand why there weren’t many bookstores and why there were so few people here.

You can’t eat or drink books. They’re not daily necessities either, like clothes, scissors or toothbrushes. Being able to spend money on such things as if it were obvious must be a sign of wealth. My country was all the more disagreeable for having bookstores everywhere. I’d never thought about it that way.

As I took the receipt and said, “Stūtiyi”, which was “thank you” in Sinhala, the black-haired woman smiled, looked at my face and said in Japanese, “Thank you very much. We will be awaiting your return.”

“Amazing!”

“Thanks.”

And so, she told me that her husband had been working with sheet metal in Ibaraki, Japan, for a while. Her pronunciation of the words “Ibaraki” and “sheet metal” was really good. Apparently, her husband had started up a small company with the money he had earned as an immigrant worker and was its president.

With her waving a hand at me and telling me to be careful, I left the store.

Even though it was early spring, the sunlight in Colombo felt like that of midsummer in Japan. But I was growing quite fond of this glare. Everyone walking in the streets was wearing mid-sleeves, and if they were so inclined, beach sandals too, but the humidity wasn’t as high as in Japan, so I could think that, indeed, this was also spring. The white of the temple flowers blooming along the road was refreshing as well. They reminded me just a little bit of cherry blossoms. And from this street, I could clearly see my favorite landmark.

Colombo Tower, a tower that had the lotus flower as its motif.

It was a Tokyo Tower-like landmark, not visible from my base camp, the mountain town of Kandy, and although the shape was grandiose, it was still under construction and nobody could enter it. However, one day – I didn’t know whether that would be while I was still in Sri Lanka or after I had settled somewhere else, but – I definitely wanted to climb that. I would.

May I be a little more proficient in the language of this country than I am now by then, and if possible, may I get to have small talk in the tower.

With a modest goal and a new book, I treaded the way to Saul-san’s office.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation

40 notes · View notes

mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

Text

🌊What the Water Gave Him 🌊

Destiel-centric finale spec based on a post I made earlier, found here

Can be read on ao3 here

It was over. Chuck lost, Sam and Dean can live their lives how they want them. But their victory wasn't without losses. The biggest upset nearly taking Dean out of the game, happening so close to the final battle. Now he's on the other side, alive against all odds, but Sam knows he isn't happy. Not truly happy since the Empty stole his best friend.

But there's a chance they can save him. A slim chance. A risk that Dean's willing to take despite every logical nerve in Sam's body screaming at him to look for better options. That threading a needle this small is too dangerous. That they don't have to take on another big bad, not anymore. That they don't have to risk their lives anymore. Dean is far past the point of listening. Dead set on this mission, Sam can only watch.

And pray his brother proves him wrong.

He stands along the water’s edge, gentle waves lapping the rocky shore. Barely licking at his boots while he gazes upon the beautiful, blue stretch of lake. Sun hanging low on the horizon, sky a far deeper color of orange than earlier.

They’ve been at this for over an hour.

Sam glances behind him, skin crawling as he sees nothing changed since last he looked. Jack stationed on one edge of the circle, Michael at the other. Dean between them, his eyes closed. Lying deathly still over the sigils scratched into the earth. His skin pale, and both hands tightly clasped around tan fabric folded over Dean’s lap.

He hates this. What Dean’s doing. That Sam cannot help. And how it’s their only option.

Jack saw this once before. A variation of it, actually. “When I killed Nick,” he said, handing out copies of photographs he printed out amongst their little group. “I found him in the middle of resurrecting Lucifer –“

“If he just had a little more patience,” Dean sneered. “Chuck could’ve saved him a whole lot of effort, though I’d doubt it’d end any differently.” Adam nodded at Dean’s side, studying his copy with interest like Sam did. Trying to identify the scene Jack captured. Dean continued, not even addressing the image. “Do you think this can work?”

“Given who we’re doing this for, no,” he admitted, “the spell Nick found would only open a portal to the Empty, wake Lucifer up. It would then be up to him to cross over, and with his amount of power that wouldn’t be difficult.” Jack then opened the book he brought, pushing it into the middle of the table. Pointing at an illustration. “But I think I can modify it. Although…”

Sam set the photo down, facing Jack. “What is it Jack?”

“I… well, it’d be very complicated,” he started, not meeting Sam’s gaze. “For it to work, me and Michael would need to use all of our power.”

“To wake Cas? Jack, you did it before –“

“When the Empty was asleep,” Jack said, “when they weren’t expecting it. When Cas hadn’t already ticked them off… they’ve already lost him once.”

“And they won’t be keen on losing Cas again,” Dean added. A storm darkening his hooded stare. Sam watched him sink into his seat, memories from that awful night weighing on Dean. It haunted him, too. Finding Dean curled around himself the next morning, unresponsive, incoherently mumbling about their friend. Shoulder stained with dried blood. In time, he recovered as he always did. Sometimes though Sam feared he’d turn and there Dean would be. Shattered completely with no chance of putting those pieces together. Stuck in that helpless ball, trembling. Forever praying. That’s not the case now. No sign of careful fragility anymore, the storm passing. Back ramrod straight Dean carelessly flicked the photo away. “What else you need?”

“Ingredients that we have here at the Bunker, I’m sure,” Jack continued, “a nice open space where we can perform the ritual. Something that belonged to Cas, that will resonate with his unique wavelength. And finally…” he trailed off near the end, faltering.

“Jack,” Sam said, “What else?”

“One of us would have to go in,” he told them, “but… there’s a chance they might not come back.” For the first second, there’s silence. The next –

“Jack, there has to be –“

“I’ll do it.”

He whipped his head towards him, scowling at the grim determination of Dean’s face. Lips thinned in a small line. Brows bent aggressively. An expression that appeared whenever Dean grabbed onto the most idiotic, suicidal thought he had and stubbornly refused to surrender. He’d refuse any option other than what he decided. Arguing with him when he’s like that was impossible.

Sam tried regardless.

“There has to be another way,” Sam whispered, both men waiting as Jack and Michael recreated Nick’s sigil-work in the dirt. Leaning against Baby’s frame, drinking in silence. “Billie always threatened she’d throw us in there one day, why don’t we ask her –“

“She’d never agree to it, Sammy. Too messy.” Dean wouldn’t look at Sam. Not since he exploded on Dean back at the Bunker. Called him selfish, that the last thing Cas wants is Dean endangering himself. His tantrum earned Sam a swift right hook he still has the bruise from, cheek mottled blue and green. Dean’s knuckles newly scabbed. “Billie plays by the universe’s rules… and we make our own.”

“Yes, finally. Rules we fought so hard to make, I…” Sam sighed, “we were finished, Dean. No more big risks. We won. Facing the Empty… there’s no do-over button if you get stuck there.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“And yet you’re still doing this?”

“It’s like I told you Sam,” he said, finally deigning Sam with a frigid glance. Steely resolve sharpening it, cutting through him. “Have been telling you. You don’t have a clue what’s really going on. If you knew… you’d see there’s no risk at all.”

Sam’s temper flares now, pain edging his vision. “Then let me in, Dean. Tell me. Why are you so afraid of –“

“I’m not afraid –“

“You clearly are,” he hissed, “otherwise you wouldn’t be throwing yourself into another near-death experience instead of having a simple conversation with me.” Sam reels his anger back, softening. Pleading. “I want Cas here as much as you do, Dean. But there has to be another way.”

Dean drained his bottle and then threw it. Far enough so when it exploded the glass wouldn’t touch them. “If it were Eileen stuck in there,” he said, “you’d know there wasn’t.”

He paused. “Eileen? What’s that have to –“

Jack called, saying they were ready. Dean stalked off towards them. Sam left behind in his confusion. “Do you have the anchor?”

“Right here.” He showed Jack the trench coat, grip on it gentle like if he squeezed any tighter Dean might rip it. “Where do you want me?”

Sam remembered Dean rambled on about its sturdiness. Boasting how he gassed the store clerk with half-truths to not draw suspicion when asking after ‘protective outerwear’. Buying it because he noticed a tear along the seam of Cas’s armpit. “I thought he’d stitch it up,” Dean laughed, whipping his purchase like a cape. Playing with it. Sam chuckled at his brother’s antics. “But he just shrugged and carried on like it was nothing. I asked him why he left it and he tells me that it’d be a waste of his grace.”

“Then why didn’t you mend it for him?”

“…What?”

“Come on, Dean,” Sam said, “you’re a master with the needle. And I’m not talking about sewing gashes… do you recall the Luke Skywalker costume you made me from those stolen motel bed sheets?”

Dean blushed, “I was just a kid then, Sammy…”

“Still the best costume, better than any of those store-bought ones at school.”

“Well… maybe I didn’t want to fix it,” he said, “that’s why. I mean… sure I could’ve. But then he’d rip it again and… it’s not like he can’t have another jacket! Cas needs a little more variety.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, because a slightly lighter brown is really crazy for him. What’s he even gonna do with it?”

“Wear it?” Dean said, “Or… put it away, keep it here. Dude’s been living with us this long and how much stuff does he own? It might not be a huge change but it’s… it’s a start, Sam.”

Dean was right in buying it. Ransacking Cas’s room, there wasn’t anything they could use for the spell save for the single, untouched trench coat hanging in his closet. As Sam leaves that memory, he realized too late the others began without him. Jack and Michael knelt like statues. His brother had left for the Empty.

And he’s still there.

Helpless while Dean pokes the bear in his cave. Sitting on the sidelines as he faces down an extraordinary being with limitless powers, like beating Chuck wasn’t pure luck. Like any of their efforts left a scratch on him. It was a group effort, what little remained of their family pitching in. Sending Chuck onto his next project. But this… it was just Dean. He was alone. And worse… Sam thinks his brother wanted it that way.

If it were Eileen stuck in there, you’d know it wasn’t.

When he wasn’t worrying about Dean, Sam mulled over his parting message. Trying to fit together the pieces Dean gave. He suspects it’s a simple picture. A niggling sense at the base of his skull tells Sam that the answer is clear. It always was. Except he looked past it, over and over, again and again. Never seeing the truth of it. Of Dean and Cas. Without either of them here, where he can observe them one more time – careful, in a way Sam hasn’t before – Sam doubts he will uncover much of anything.

At least it distracts him from Dean. Until it doesn’t.

Dean gasps, lurching forward. Coughing, spitting up bile and gagging on air. Michael collapses, exhausted. Jack almost follows but overcomes his dizziness. Sam, the only unaffected one, dashes towards. Rubs Dean’s back while he works through his nausea. How Dean lets him either shows he’s too woozy to know it’s him, or the earlier animosity was forgotten. As Dean claws at his shirt, gasping, repeating his name, Sam guesses the latter. “Yes, Dean?” he says, “What is it?”

“Cas,” he says, voice hoarse and raw, “Where… where is he?”

There weren’t any portals. Nor did a star shoot downwards from the sky. Their friend had not even blinked into existence with a smile and a familiar rumble. “Cas,” Sam sighs, “Cas. Dean, I don’t think –“

“Cas.”

He scrambles to his feet, knocking Sam onto the ground. Dean runs across the shore and, when he reaches the lake, wades in. Fully dressed, madly waving the trench coat. Sam yells, but Dean ignores him. Hellbent on drowning himself.

Except Sam misses it, again.

Someone meets Dean halfway. Breaking through the lake’s surface, swimming to where the water rests above their waists. Drags his brother into a hug, spinning him. With raven hair, tanned skin, and blue eyes crinkled with joy and life and love. “Cas,” Sam says, “it’s… it worked?”

“Of course it worked,” Jack says, “This is Dean and Cas.”

Maybe Sam understands because of the off-hand way Jack spoke about the two men. Or, more likely, it’s when Cas – wrapped in the trench coat Dean bought him – sweeps Dean into his arms and kisses him. Dean melts under his touch, responding with an excitement that had been absent when Chuck left them alone for real. It doesn’t matter how. He finally gets it.

Dean and Cas… they get their happy ending.

#supernatural #spn #spn15 #spn15 spec #15 and final #15x18 #15x19 #15x20 #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #adam milligan #michael #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #this is how we 🤡 can still win

32 notes · View notes

michellemagic · 4 years

Text

WMMAP Prompts: Bookstore

@athy-n-lucas I did another one of your prompts. Thanks to Ariadna from the discord for giving my a book title and @nights-of-fire because you’re great. This was my 5am, no sleep writing child. Please enjoy.

SUMMARY: Diana runs a bookstore and a mysterious blonde man walks in one day.

WARNING: No beta, really have no idea what I wrote here but I did my best.

Diana was young when she fell in love with books. There was something about them. May it be the aged pages of a grand fairy tale or a crisp copy of the newest romance. Something about them spoke to the young woman and it got to the point where reading was all she wanted to do. Her love for books ended up playing a big part in her decision to drop her dreams of being a professional dancer and take up shop in her hometown’s small bookstore.

Sure, bookstores weren’t very popular nowadays, people had the internet, but she didn’t have the book store for money. She had the bookstore because it called to her, something about the quiet peace that books brought. It spoke to her and she couldn’t help but listen. Books had given her so much over the years and she would never have the heart to leave her bookstore.

Not to mention the people her bookstore brought to her.

There were people like Lily, who seemed to have the same open hearted love of books that Diana herself had. The same love that led to Lily becoming Diana’s one and once store clerk and her sweet best friend.

Kind souls like Felix, who came one day out of the blue and found himself returning every now and again. Of course, the way he always took glances at Lily spoke that there was a double meaning of being in her store, but Felix seemed to be as sweet guy. So whether or not something happened with them Diana was sure it’d turn out ok.

Even the occasional passerby, the one’s that found her store by chance, always left an impression.

…

It was one of the rare days that Lily was off. Apparently her friend had plans today with Felix, and if the looks that Lily seem to start giving Felix said anything well- Diana had high hopes.

It also meant today would probably be a quiet day. Her little store never really got much foot traffic unless some big release was coming and without Lily to chat with that meant Diana wasn’t likely to make much conversation. That was fine with her, people were nice but being about to take time for herself and read was even nicer.

Deciding to read a new book that just came in Diana couldn’t help but deflated slightly when she heard the door open. Oh well, one person would be quick to deal with, then she could go and read. Looking up to see who entered, Diana was slightly startled to see a tall blonde man and not one of her regulars. He looked around the store halfheartedly before finally looking at her. His eyes were very pretty she allowed herself to think Like blue jewels. For some reason the blonde man seem to freeze up at the sight of her, as if her very existence offended him. But then the look was gone, the man’s eyes went cold and he seemed to decide to completely ignore whatever just transpired. Which was a new reaction for her.

Well weird looks or not, the man walked in which meant he was a costumer. Putting on her best store owner smile, Diana started, “Hello. Welcome in, feel free to look around and let me know if you need any help.”

The man said nothing. He didn’t even nod. He just walked straight past her to the closest shelf of books. Which was rude, but fair. Diana wasn’t so simpleminded that she thought everyone could be happy all the time. Yes, being ignored so obviously was annoying and slightly hurtful but she’s dealt with far worse.

“If you’re looking for a copy of Lovely Princess I think I may have a copy or two in the back,” It wouldn’t be the first time someone wandered all the way to her store for the book. The story of the lovely princess, Jennette, was very popular nowadays and while Diana read it and didn’t see the appeal, it sold well and having copies on hand was always a good idea.

Finally acknowledging her, the man grumbled, “I don’t need it.”

He speaks! Diana smiled brighter at his response,” Ah, not a fan?”

“No.”

Diana felt goosebumps at his cold tone. How do you converse with a living statue? “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m not the biggest fan of Lovely Princess myself.”

“Really?” He finally looked at her again, his tone was now unbelieving. “You... seem like the type.”

“Well you know what they say. Can’t judge a book by it’s cover.” And Diana hated herself, a book joke and such a cliche. Goodness she was losing her touch.

The stranger seemed as unimpressed as Diana herself was, turning back to the closest book shelf. Well, at least she learned that jokes were a no go.

“Is there anything I can help you find then?”

He was ignoring her again. Great. Well, at least she could say she tried.

“I’ll leave you alone for now. I’ll be upfront if you need anything. Enjoy your search sir”

That got his attention back on her. Shoot, abort abort.

“You don’t… know who I am?” He trailed off as if unsure why this woman who he’s never met before didn’t know him.

Diana felt slightly unimpressed, “Is this an I’m a rich person how can you not know me moment? Because if it is, I’m sorry I really don’t keep up with the news.”

“Of course not. We’ve never met before, why would you know me.” His words sounded bitter, like her not knowing who he was was some great disservice. Maybe Diana would have been better off just letting him ignore her. He walked over to where Diana was sitting as his eyes shifted to the counter, zeroing in on something by her hand, “That book…”

Her eyes followed to where he was looking and she let herself breathe again. Diana brightened at the book title she saw, ”It’s one of my favorites.”

Red Rose, it was the less popular spin off sequel to Lovely Princess. Which was honestly surprising considering how popular the first book was. It was probably due to the protagonist being Princess Athanasia de Alger Obelia. The spin off began the day Athanasia was put to death. The story followed her waking up after death in the body of her 3 year old self due to some act of magic or fate. It first it seemed like the plot of the book would only be her trying to avoid death but the book took an early twist when Athanasia learns that the time travel had a second effect. It awoke the grand magician of the tower, Lucas, who immediately took interest in the princess due to the large magic energy surrounding her as an effect of time travel. From there the story followed both Athanasia and Lucas as they tried to complete their goals, Athanasia trying to avoid Claude and death and Lucas trying to regain his magic. Like in the original, Lovely Princess, Jennette comes to live in the palace but Athanasia avoids her this time around, deciding to spend more time with Lucas instead. The book��s climax ended up being the King still finding some way to try and blame Athanasia for some absurd crime, an act to try and kill her off. Lucas seeing the princess he’s grown so found of threatened, cursed the cruel King and took Princess Athanasia for his own. The last chapter was from Jennette’s point of view on what life was like after Athanasia and Lucas disappeared. The princess lamented on not being able to create a close bond with her half sister, the only keepsake of Athanasia she had being a single red rose.

The book was bittersweet.

“I thought you weren’t of fan”

“Of Lovely Princess? No, I’m not. I did enjoy Red Rose much more than it’s source material.”

“Not a fan of Jennette’s?”

“Not at all, Lovely Princess was too bleh for me,” Diana shrugged, “Call me an Athanasia Apologist but I don’t like how the story handled the poor girl. Life was really against her.”

Honestly, Diana couldn’t understand the hate Athanasia was given. Sure, she saw the appeal in a lovely girl like Jennette but at the end of the day she had all of life’s wonders handed to her while Athanasia did everything she could to gain the same acceptance but failed every time. To Diana, Athanasia was much easier to find lovable, and she couldn’t help but fall for the young girl and her rather morbid storyline.

“I know a lot of people hate her, and I’m not judging her if you do-,” He was quick to cut her off this time.

“No, I could never hate Athanasia,” His voice was firm, like his answer was a fact of life and not his opinion of a random book character.

“The king was an idiot for letting such a treasure go. For hurting her.” His voice was dark, “Athanasia is to good for such a man like him.”

Diana felt stunned. She was glad she found someone who didn’t hate Athanasia but the way he talked about her. Like she was a real person who’s actions and experiences existed. His hate sounded personal, as if the King was insulting him personally with his awful treatment of the princess. That wasn’t normal, and yet… Diana had felt the same way. It’s why Red Rose spoke to her so much, all of Lovely Princess her focus had been on Athanasia to the point where she’d skip chapters to get straight to the princess’ appearances. She didn’t know why the character effected her so much but it did. When the king put Athanasia to death, Diana felt a burning rage within her. When Athanasia cried, Diana felt the urge to cry right along side her. She felt emotions for Athanasia that she had never felt for any other book character before. And this man in front of her seemed to feel the same way she did. Maybe that’s why fate led him to her bookstore.

“Here.” She offered the book to him, “Take it. “

He blinked at her, suddenly baffled. “You… said it was your favorite.”

“It is,” Diana agreed easily, she’d let his rude behavior slide for today, “and I have at least 5 copies of it. I know you probably have your own but think of it as a gift. From one Athanasia lover to another, we’re a race that’s very hard to come by.”

Hesitating slightly, she added, “I hope it helps you find what you’re looking for.”

The man seemed conflicted by this, his eyes flickering once more before he finally grabbed the book. He cradled it in his hand like it was something precious. Looking at the slightly worn, but well taken care of book like it held the secrets to life. He hesitated, seemly wanting to say something before he decidedly turned away. Hand on the door knob, the wanderer turned to her once more. His expression didn’t shift at all from the blank slate he schooled it into but he seemed to hesitate. Diana waited, after all that just happened she could be patience. After a period of silence he finally spoke.

“Thank you.”

And with that he walked out.

…

Sometimes her store brought in the most interesting people, and you can call her crazy but she’d bet that wandering blonde man would find himself back at her little slice of heaven in no time. He still had to tell her his name after all.

#wmmap #sbapod #claude de alger obelia #diana wmmap #Athanasia #no beta #we die like men #i wrote this with no sleep guys #dont expect much lmaoo #no one on the discord reacted to it #sad boi hours #who made me a princess #suddenly became a princess one day #sleep would have helped #oh well

72 notes · View notes

boku-no-loveletters · 4 years

Note

(1/3?)Hi! Idk if you're still doing match ups but I was wondering if i could get a prohero match up pls! If not, please feel free to ignore my ask, I completely understand and hope you're resting 💕 if soooo-I’m a straight cis Hispanic female that’s 5ft tall, I have wide hips, big butt/thighs, my top half ain’t special tho and I have black hair/bangs and dark brown eyes+glasses! I’m a cancer with an INFP personality, I’m shy and closed off at first but as I get used to you I open up.

Also, my favorite season is fall, I have been told that I have a motherly, clownery, therapist type of vibe. I’m stubborn, not big on commitment (when I commit tho, I COMMIT) My ideal date is napping, eating our junk foods and watching anime and movies! I’m a cancer sun, Leo moon and Libra rising. I’m an introvert and Hufflepuff.

I’m shy and closed off at first but as I get used to you, I open up. I like sleep, anime and boys (But I like anime bois more than real ones :( )…I also have daddy issues…the following info has nsfw/sfw, if it makes you feel uncomfortable, feel free to ignore it! My hobbies include dancing and singing! My turn on: Love and understanding (Nfsw-degradation and praise/daddy kink)-(I base my love life off of Disney movies and Wattpad)

LAST ONE! Turn offs: not willing to understand that I need space to cope with my moodiness. (NFSW-someone that doesn’t care about my consent!) I’m the type of person that tends to want to listen more than I want to talk. I’m always on TikTok cuz crackheads things. My names Larissa, but my friends prefer “Dummy”, “idiot, ”, or clown cus even though I may be book smart, I am very stupid. THANK YOU IN ADVANCE IF YOU DO CHOOSE TO DO THIS, MAKE SURE YOU DRINK WATER, REST AND PLS EAT!

Heyo, I did your match-up!

-I had a lot of fun with this one! I enjoyed reading your description and being really specific helped me determine which Hero was better for you. At first, I was torn between All might and Hawks since they both seemed to be really laid back in certain activities they do, but hawks and you seemed to have similar interests and similar attitudes.

-I felt that Hawks would like someone with an attitude like his, laid back and idealistic, yet healing and therapeutic. Hawks needs someone that he can confide in since he goes through a ton of pressure daily despite not looking like it. Having someone that is gentle to a level where he can let his guard down is important, trust is important for him. Plus, what kind of relationship is it if you don’t trust your partner?

-I think he would absolutely adore planning out little dates that specifically involved only you and him since he just wants some time with his girl alone, but if you asked him that you wanted to go out he wouldn’t mind at all. I think that he’d like Movie marathons with take out KFC more since that just kinda sounds like his thing. I think there’s also a really high probability that he’d like anime too, but I think he’d be a fan of sports animes like Haikyuu!

-Hawks is a thinker and I think he’d be more than happy to give you your space since he understands how much some people, like him, need their alone time or a break depending on your mood.

-If you dance and you sing, then you already have your number one supporter on your hands. This man will cheer you on and/or secretly videotape you doing one of your most beloved activities without you noticing and when you’re done, he will come to you and show you how beautiful you look or sound and compare it with the other videos he took of you.

-He has a hard time deciding which one is going to be his new ringtone, he thinks it’s nice waking up and hearing you singing before he gets ready for the day.

-Daddy issues? No worries! The number 3 pro hero, to the rescue! He will try as many humorous antics as he can to get your mind off of family problems, sometimes he'll go in for a scare to completely snap you out of the subject if it takes your attention away from more important things.

I think that the way you guys meet would be by pure coincidence, You are another citizen of the city while he was the number three hero, it ‘s bound to happen by some point unless of course, you both were known to come to a common place that you loved.

Ah, yes. Today was a Friday, AKA the perfect today to start on another one of your most favored series along with various amounts of snacks that you are sure will mess up your stomach afterward. But hey, who cares about that? It’s the weekend! That means no work, no worries, and certainly no more bothersome people!

You took in a deep breath and smiled happily, content that your day of work was already over which left you the remaining of the last day of your workweek and the rest of Saturday and Sunday! Your right hand gently steering the wheel of your vehicle while your left hand held the small wad of cash for the food that you were using for something special.

You pulled up to the parking lot of the convenience store, picking up your purse and stepping out of the car with your money already in your hand. The door opened ahead of you with a small ding, revealing the rows of food and the clerks' desk upfront.

You scanned over the store’s range and noticed how weirdly empty it was, not a lot of customers were present at the moment though the woman already at the front desk looked oddly excited. Maybe it was someone important? Well, it was probably none of your business anyways, you’re just a customer after all so you just paid attention to what you came here for.

Fried chicken. Hell yeah.

Fried chicken along with potato chips and drinks was the main ingredient for a great marathon to where you could binge-watch all the episodes you wanted. ALL the episodes, although your parents would probably scold you for your unhealthy habits, as you said before, you could care less.

So you began walking down the aisles, dragging your finger over the tags to look for your favorite brand of chips under their company name all the while obliviously ignoring the floating crimson object that drifted across the air.

You then felt a little tickle at your neck at which you swiped to the back of your head and grabbed what appeared to be..a feather? Which was strangely familiar as it was red too.

The only red feather you had ever seen was that of a certain famous hero's wings and it's not like he'd pick such a low profile store to get some food, right? But then you really couldn't think of him any less based on the current decisions you're making right now.

Just as you were about to inspect the small little feather, it zoomed from out of your grasp and flew ahead over the aisles. By then, you had finally paid attention to the conversations that carried over the wave of food and products.

You craned your neck over to look at the superintendent and... a man?

Much to your surprise, it was the number three pro hero, Hawks! His cheerful demeanor was just as laid-back as ever. His blonde hair was slicked back with a few stray locks framing his face while he donned a leather jacket and matching black pants for an outfit.

Your mouth was wide open in surprise, what a coincidence! You were right! So you leaned in quietly and began listening in on their conversations, being sure not to make yourself get exposed and labeled as another one of Hawk's stir crazy fangirls.

Your ears then picked up on Hawk's smooth yet rough voice, the volume of his speech echoing across the store as he asked a certain thing about the manager's day or what he'd thought about doing all the while digging through his pocket, both front and back.

He must've been looking for something...like money.

You clasped a hand over your mouth to silence yourself from laughing before you were caught. The number three pro hero, Hawks, had forgotten money to buy some things at the store...which was fried chicken.

Respectable choice, a faith that you had to save a fellow chicken eater from.

So you quietly walked over to their positions, being mindful not to interrupt their conversation and gently tugged on Hawk's jacket. He gradually turned around and met your gaze directly with just a hint of surprise and turbulence.

"Oh, hey! Another fan? You need me to sign something of yours?" he spoke in a cheerful manner to which you simply shook your head and brought his hand to yours and put in a couple wads of cash before walking out of the store and waving him and the superintendent goodbye.

Perhaps another time would be better, you could always wait for your paycheck and get a much higher paying. 'Yeah, that'd be much better than that shabby amount.' you thought to yourself while bringing your purse closer to your chest in giddiness and opening the door to your automobile.

He was confused for a moment before he brought his attention to his hand and gently opened it. The slips of cash you left in his care were just the amount he had been missing to get himself a quick snack ere going back to his house.

He felt a small blush creep up his neck when the realization hit him, you must've seen his crappy attempt at finding some random change in his pocket when you were just a few aisles behind him in the store.

So, wasting no time to say his thanks, he quickly paid for his food and said his goodbyes before rushing to the front of the store and catching your vehicle leave just at the last moment.

He used his large vermillion wings to wave to you while you left and hazily watched your car leave to the next street on the highway. How oddly nice of a citizen to give him some spare cash, maybe he'd repay you the next time you came around...that is, if he could find you.

-So after that, Hawks did manage to find you the next time around and he did keep his promise of returning your fair share of money. Although the other times you guys did meet up around the store was when you returned to get more snacks and he was simply buying more chicken, claiming that the store had good quality food.

-He tries to make small talk with you either by using the fact that he doesn’t have enough money as an excuse or that he’s just simply another pro hero passing by and checking in on his favorite citizen.

-The time when you guy’s actually agreed to dating was by him confessing and using chicken drumsticks as a gift for your first date. It worked.

-Both You and Hawks have energy that matches each other, you practically fit like puzzle pieces based on how I view it. You both share similar views on how the world could work if it would differ on a creative basis or when you know how to take a break from certain things and just be in each other’s presence.

-He tries to get as many breaks as he can from doing hero work, so if he consults his agencies about how much time he’s missing being away from you, he’ll try and send little trinkets from his workplace to you and let you know he’ll be home sooner or later.

NSFW!

-Now, this guy has the DNA of a hawk, you can definitely expect him to randomly go into phrases involving sexual matters such as mating season and i’d imagined that would happen mostly around the spring with the summer sometimes being an exception.

-Hawks is that one bitch that prays before eating you out, I will not hold a discussion for this. HE IS THAT BITCH and NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE.

-Oh, a daddy kink you say? Hawks is going to enjoy this. No doubt this man here is going to get rough in the bedroom and he will waste absolutely no energy on you. Just one slip up of calling him that name and he will ravage into the bed mattress.

-If you’re really into making him wait a bit before actually getting into bed, this man will praise your body throughout the whole session as if he had never had a drip of pleasure in his life.

Hope you liked your match-up!

@animeboihoe

#Hawks mha #Keigo Takami #Takami Keigo #Hawks #bnha #mha match-ups

10 notes · View notes

qfantasydragon · 5 years

Text

That Blessed Arrangment

Fair warning, this one is a bit long and a continuation of another post you can find here. I’ve also just gotten an AO3 account and have posted everything have so far (x).

Part Three

A quick miracle slipped the certificate past the clerk who otherwise might've objected to a witness signature that read "I am." Crowley tried to argue Aziraphale into keeping it and hanging it on a wall, but the angel was firm that the whole business be done properly.

"I, for one, do not want to run the risk that the whole thing fails to work because we didn't do one last step."

Crowley hissed but satisfied himself with a copy. More than once Aziraphale walked in on him holding it, staring at the signatures. The angel was never sure if it was God's or theirs that he was focusing on, but decided to leave the demon to his thoughts.

Miraculously, (Aziraphale protested that he had nothing to do with it. Crowley may have, but refused to admit to anything) both sides seemed to have missed that they had gotten married. Or at least, neither one was saying anything about it.

Crowley took hanging around the bookshop, Bentley parked haphazardly in the front. (The fact that it never received a ticket was, in fact, a demonic miracle, but neither of them thought much of it.) Plants began to take up residence in the windows and corners. The grad students who wandered in and out began to carry with them stories of a giant snake curled up in sunny spots, slithering along bookshelves, and more and more frequently, draped around the owner like a feather boa. The most famous of these stories was one in which two students were holding a conversation with the strange white-haired owner and the snake began to slide off the top of one of the shelves. Right on to the owner's shoulders. Who merely adjusted his stance to take the weight and kept talking.

Both swear they have no idea what was actually said as they watched in wide-eyed horror as the snake lazily coiled around his shoulders and gave the students an unblinking look with golden eyes before, for all intents and purposes, appearing to go to sleep. (Allegations that one of the students was attempting to flirt the owner out of a book have been furiously denied.)

Aziraphale and Crowley began to make plans to add another two floors to the store—the first would be a proper living space, with a bedroom, kitchen, and all the other rooms the average human had. The second would be a soundproofed greenhouse for Crowley to grow his plants in.

They both still caught glimpses of angels and demons out of the corner of their eyes, but as months passed and nothing happened, they both slowly relaxed. This was their normal now; easy going conversations, the gentle bickering that was a habit after six millennia, and a million new discoveries about each other now that they no longer had to pretend to be enemies. A beautiful normal.

Right up until it wasn't, of course.

The trouble started innocently enough. Anathema came by to chat and peruse the books, convincing Aziraphale to sell her one on the grounds that he had run off with The Prophecies of Agnes Nutter and returned it...toasted. As she was paying, she mentioned this nice little bakery Newt had taken her to for a date.

Apparently, it had amazing crepes.

Aziraphale barely had to turn to give Crowley his practically patented pleading look before the demon was asking if he'd like to go out tonight.

There wasn't a lot Crowley wouldn't do to make his angel smile like that. A drive of an hour to watch him eat was nothing.

So that evening they went out and got crepes, Aziraphale only slightly too dignified to bounce around excitedly as the server brought out plate after plate of thin pastries.

"Might as well make an evening of it," Crowly pointed out, so they spent the rest of the night cheerfully sampling the quality of alcohol the nearby restaurants and pubs had to offer. As the night wore down they washed up in a club where a group of drunk teens spotted their rings and cornered them into going on the floor for the couples dance, ignoring Aziraphale's protests of two left feet.

The place was slowly emptying as people trickled home, but the lights still flashed dimly and the music still played as Crowley and Aziraphale swayed gently on the floor, arms wrapped around each other. (If Anathema had been there at that moment, she would have seen two sets wings, one black, one white, wrapping around each other, shutting out the world.)

The song ended and they slowed to a stop.

"Ready to go home, my dear?" Aziraphale murmured to his husband. Crowley's arms tightened in a brief hug before releasing.

"Let's sober up first. Be silly to stop the apocalypse only to get discorporated in a crash."

Restaurants the next day wondered where the extra bottles of wine and brandy and whiskey had come from, but most of them shrugged and accepted it. A couple of the more enterprising employees decided that if the bottle were supposed to be gone, why, then it was their duty to make them gone.

It was with easy chatter about an exotic plant Crowley was considering, ah, acquiring, that they wandered back to the Bentley and worked their way down the deserted rural roads, the clock inching closer to dawn.

Something was on the road that had not been there a second earlier.

Crowley swerved wildly, sending the car into the ditch by the side of the road with the sound of cracking glass and screeching metal.

Firm hands dragged Crowley out and suddenly he was soaked with something made him tingle in a vague, unpleasant way. This what humans are talking about when they say pins and needles? he wondered blearily, ears ringing from the crash.

Aziraphale blinked and realized he was flat on his back on the road and—that was Michael staring down at him with a critical look on her face. He scrambled back and onto his feet in a rather undignified way.

"Michael! What are--"

"Holy water doesn't work. Even looking at it I still have trouble believing it." Aziraphale jerked his head around to see Sandalphon and Uriel gripping Crowley's arms as he staggered in place, disorientated. In front of him was Gabriel, sharply dressed as always, examining Crowley in the manner of a curious child studying an interesting bug.

"Aziraphale!" Gabriel glanced over at the angel with a grin that made him tense, "Didn't think we would leave you two alone forever did you?" His purple eyes caught on something, and he frowned. "What's that on your finger?"

"Looks like a wedding ring," Sandalphon provided, "Like humans get."

"I know that," Gabriel snapped, turning back, "But why--" he caught sight of Crowley's left hand.

"Well," Michael commented in the sudden silence, "I would like to say how unexpected, but it's really not."

"Do you really think," Gabriel snarled, "That the Almighty would recognize a union between a demon and an angel? How dare you profane matrimony like this!" Crowley laughed, sounding a little drunk.

"Oh, She recognized it mate. Her signature's on the paper and everything." He grinned wickedly at the archangel. "Believe me, I wasn't expecting it either."

"Gabriel," Aziraphale tried to cut in, Michael holding him back.

"That's it," the archangel bit out--

"I really don't think--"

"Holy water may not work--"

"Leave him--"

"So I guess we'll have to try other methods." Crowley's grin flickered and went out.

"Uhh. Today's not really a good day for me. Maybe next week?" Gabriel pulled a flaming sword into existence and Uriel and Sandalaphon took a step back to give him room to swing.

"First," he said tightly, "let's get rid of the body."

He swung.

There was a loud clang.

The world went perfectly, unbearably still.

To the east, the sky lightened.

It had been a long, long, time since two angelic swords crossed, but neither the earth nor the stars had ever forgotten. They were frozen, waiting to see what would happen.

Aziraphale stood in front of Crowley, his own sword blocking Gabriel's downswing, holding it effortlessly in midair. His head was bowed.

"Do you know," mused Aziraphale in a tone that Crowley didn't think he'd ever heard from the angel before, "That I gave my sword to Adam? The Adam from the Garden, I mean."

"What--" Gabriel started in an angry tone.

"He needed it, of course, just have been cast out and all, but that was only part of the reason," Aziraphale continued speaking in that soft, thoughtful voice that had everyone standing perfectly still. There was a pressure in the air, like a storm beginning to form.

"I hated the War you know. The first one. The demons had been our friends, our family, and yes they were arguing with Her, yes they were doubting. But are we not supposed to forgive? Are we not supposed to show mercy? Instead, there was blood and death and pain and then a third of us were simply gone, and the rest of us couldn't even remember their names. Their faces."

"Angelic swords," Aziraphale raised his head now, and his eyes were glowing and behind him wings were spreading and they had eyes of their own that were staring staring staring-- "Are made from the essence of the one who owns them. They are a part of our being. That part of me—that part of me that had fought, had led, had warred—I couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand the sight of it. So I took the first opportunity I had to give it away."

"Through all the centuries, through all the millennia, I couldn't have called it back to me if you asked. I didn't want it. After the first time, I never wanted to fight again." Aziraphale stepped closer to Gabriel and forced their swords higher.

There were six wings spread behind Aziraphale now, each feather with an eye that stared at one of the angels. The two set in his face where white and burning with fires that spilled over the edges like tears, but Aziraphale's face had never been so still. Around him reality was groaning as a shape, a form, an entity that was never meant to exist in this dimension churned around him.

There was a reason angel's first words were do not be afraid.

"I suppose I should congratulate you," Aziraphale breathed, "You've given me a reason to pick my sword back up. Isn't that what you wanted? For me to fight?" There was panic peeking around Gabriel's eyes, and it looked as though it was taking every inch of his power not to step back, to disengage, to run.

Dawn was breaking.

"Did you forget," Aziraphale breathed, "that I am the Principality of the Eastern Gate you fucking piece of shit?"

"I. Outrank. You."

Gabriel's own wings were out now, spread and fluffed out, a panic response as his arm trembled. At some point, their swords had switched positions so that he was blocking, trying desperately to keep Aziraphale's sword from slicing through him.

The shape that was never meant to exist in this plane of existence did the equivalent of baring its teeth and pretending it was a smile.

"Aziraphale," Crowley called from behind him. The Principality didn't turn around, but their attention shifted. Crowley's glasses had been damaged in the crash, and at some point they had fallen off. The demon was soaked, normally lively hair pressed flat against his head. Gently, he extended a hand, extended a piece of his own true nature, and pressed against his angel's back, where all the wings came out, in this dimension and in as many of the others as he could reach.

If Aziraphale was the heart of the sun rising in the east, Crowley was drifting nebulae in the emptiness of space, black holes singing the loss of all they had been.

"He's not worth it," he sighed to his spouse, "None of them are."

(Latef he would snort about it to himself. A demon counseling peace.)

Some of the tension went out of Aziraphale, and they refocused on Gabriel.

"And the Lord said to forgive seventy times seven," they told him quietly. "I have forgiven much of you Gabriel." Everyone's ears popped and suddenly it was just Aziraphale again. A little pudgy, a little short, a bookkeeper in London Soho.

But still he stared evenly at Gabriel and leaned in.

"If you ever try to interfere with us again, if you ever dare hurt him, I will rip your name from the Book of Truth myself and grind whatever remains of you after into dust. Do you understand?"

Gabriel nodded frantically, and Aziraphale disengaged with a slither of steel and a crackle-pop of fire.

Immediately Gabriel stumbled backward and there was a series of whoomphs as all the angels retreated back towards Heaven.

Aziraphale watched them go, face closed off. Crowley left him to his thoughts for a few minutes while he miracled the Bentley back onto the road and functional again. Then he meandered back, his sunrise shadow tangling with Aziraphale's.

"Ready to go home, angel?" Aziraphale blinked, long and slow and tired before nodding. Crowley gently guided him back into the car before clambering and driving off as the sun climbed into the sky.

They were silent the whole way back. A couple of times Crowley glanced worriedly over at Aziraphale who was staring quietly out the window. The sword was sheathed and leaning against his leg while he absent-mindedly traced designs on the pommel.

When they reached the bookshop Crowley parked with more care than usual. Aziraphale still seemed to be wrapped up in his own thoughts, moving slowly to get out of the car and unlock the door. The angel stood in the center of the room and looked so unbearably lost, sword clutched in one hand.

"What are you thinking?" Crowley asked softly, tilting Aziraphale's head up so that their eyes met. He hadn't put on another pair of sunglasses yet.

"I don't...I don't know." The angel forced a hand through his hair. "I'm thinking that it was nice to stretch my wings. I'm thinking that I picked up my sword and it felt good in my hands. I'm thinking that I'm horrified by how much I wanted to hurt Gabriel. I'm thinking that I would do it all again, do everything I threatened in a heartbeat if it meant...if it meant keeping you safe. I'm thinking that that should worry me, but it doesn't." Aziraphale looked back up at Crowley, and he looked so helpless that Crowley reached out and hugged him hard, chin resting on the top of his angel's head.

"Don't be horrified angel. You defended us. All the other angels—they're meant to be soldiers. Meant to start fights and end them. Meant for war. You though—well you said it. You're the guardian of the eastern gate. You're meant to defend what's already there, to protect new beginnings and fresh starts. That's what we are, isn't it? A new beginning."

"Besides, did you see the look on that wanker's face? I'm going to treasure that memory for the next century at least."

Aziraphale choked out a laugh against Crowley's chest and the demon smiled as the last of the angel's tension melted away.

"Thank you, my dear," he smiled as he stepped back. "You think that will keep them away for good?" Crowley snorted.

"Well we proved your marriage idea worked—I'm officially immune to holy water, and I'd guess the same goes for you and hellfire. So they're not sure how to kill us, and I'm pretty sure you scared them enough that they're not going to keep trying."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Aziraphale seemed to be regaining his normal good cheer, even if there were still bags under his eyes.

"C'mon angel. Let's get you some sleep."

"But the bookshop..."

"I'll run it for you." His angel didn't like selling books, Crowley knew, but he also understood that right now Aziraphale wanted the anchor of his faux humanity, wanted to worry about mundane things like who would take care of his shop while he was resting. The angel gave him a grateful smile.

"That is very much appreciated, dear." Aziraphale turned to go off into the back rooms where he kept a bed when Crowley stopped him.

"Oh and angel?" Aziraphale looked back. Crowley grinned, wicked and delighted, "'Fucking piece of shit?’ Didn't know you had it in you." The angel blushed and stuttered.

"Well it seemed appropriate at the time--" Crowley laughed, open and free as the city woke up around them and sunlight poured like a blessing through the windows.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #Aziraphale swearing #aziraphale fighting #that blessed arrangment #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley #crowley x aziraphale #archangels #principalities #post-apocalypse

428 notes · View notes

kyufiber-moved · 5 years

Text

shampoo; hendery

member: hendery / wayv, nct

genre: friends to lovers, fluff, angst

word count: 2.4k

summary: the two of you have been inseparable since 8th grade, best friends and nothing more. then one tipsy kiss changes everything, and you aren’t sure whether you’re just friends who made a drunk mistake, or something more.

(a/n: thank you to miss @markheehee who gave me the idea from when she sent in her hendery dream !!! also i’m trying out a new scenario post theme inspired by @000609 and @nctream i hope y’all don’t mind !!) / (spotify playlist)

He’s never been this close to you. Not like this.

You close your eyes. Let your lips part—

He’s right there, you can feel it. You can smell his shampoo, the green-apple scented one he’s used for the past three years.

It never made you feel like this before.

And in a moment of pure bravery, you let a whisper escape your lips: “Kiss me.”

The bell finally rings, signaling the end of class, and you stretch in your seat. Hendery appears in front of your desk, an excited grin sprawled across his lips.

“What?” you yawn.

“Did you hear Johnny Seo is throwing a party this weekend?” he doesn’t attempt to conceal the excitement in his voice, and the boyishness of it makes you chuckle.

“What’s with you and that kid?”

“He’s cool! And he invited me— and you, by extension— to his party this weekend! Do you know how big that is?”

“You know I’m not that big of a—”

“You’re a big, fat liar.” he scoffs. “You spent the entirety of Spring Break some level of drunk.”

You scowl, gathering your things and standing up. “That was different. That’s Spring Break.”

“And this is the weekend!” he slings your bookbag over his other shoulder. “You said yourself you need a break from studying,”

As the two of you pass through the doorway out into the hallway, you sigh. “I did say that,”

“So you’ll come?”

“I guess. My mom’s working late, so she won’t notice if we crash at my place after.”

He flashes you another grin, slinging your arm through his. “C’mon, we’ve gotta get to the cafeteria before all the good food is gone.”

Sometime later, the two of you sit at a table in the far corner of the lunchroom, munching on cheeseburgers.

Hendery’s got his eyes locked on the popular table, where Johnny and several other upperclassmen sit.

“Can you let up on your obsession with Johnny for like, two seconds?”

“I’m not staring at him, dumbass.”

“Then who? Ouuuu... A girl, perhaps?” you nudge him teasingly, and the sheepish expression on his face tells you you’re right. “Who is it?”

“Nobody,” he mumbles, lowering his eyes to his sandwich.

“Tell me!” you whine. “Am I your best friend or not? I won’t tell anyone!”

He turns a light shade of pink, pretending to be annoyed, but you see a small smile peeking through. “Jeon Soyeon,”

You gasp, your grin widening. “Jeon Soyeon? You’ve got to be kidding me— she’s too much woman for you to handle,” you shake your head dramatically, and he shoves you.

“She’s softer than she lets on,” he rolls his eyes.

“Oh, man. He’s in deep,” you narrate, chewing a bite of burger and eyes twinkling with mischief. “He’s whipped,”

“If you don’t stop, I’m leaving.”

“You won’t,”

“I will,”

“You’re too much of a pussy to eat alone.”

“I’ll go eat with Soyeon,”

At that, you burst out laughing. “Please! I’d love to see that.”

He turns away with a huff and angrily takes a bite of his burger, making you chuckle.

“This is the wrong house,”

“It’s not! The GPS says this is it.”

“I’m telling you, Hendery. It’s wrong,”

“Maybe I put in the wrong address...?”

“Or maybe he gave you the wrong address on purpose.”

You turn to look at your best friend in the passenger seat with a deadpan expression. He returns your gaze, eyes wide. “He wouldn’t have, right?”

You sigh, resigned, and pat his shoulder. “You’re so much dumber than you look, honestly.”

He scoffs, swiping his phone open. “I’ll just check— oh.”

“What?” you glance over curiously.

On his phone’s screen is his Instagram dashboard, and the first photo is a candid of Soyeon making out with Johnny.

“Oh...” you trail off, pursing your lips.

You grab the phone from his hand and click it off, slipping it in your back pocket. “She didn’t deserve you anyway, man. Come on, let’s go to the arcade and kick some Pac-Man ass, or something.”

A small chuckle escapes his lips as you start the car, and before long, the two of you are in the local arcade, slamming away at the game controls and yelling your hearts out in the middle of the night.

An hour or so later, the two of you are too tired — and too broke — to continue, so you grab your things and head back out to his car.

Just as he’s opening the passenger door, you smack him on the shoulder.

“Ow! What?”

You point at one of the only building still lit up in the small strip of stores, and you shoot him a mischievous grin.

The words “Liquor Store” shine in neon at the end of your finger.

“You couldn’t go to the party and get drunk,” you offer. “This is fate.”

“This is a coincidence,”

“Stop being a pessimist, you know that’s my job in this friendship.” you retort and drag him towards the liquor store.

“Wait, but I don’t have any money—”

“It’s fine, I brought my wallet.”

The two of you head inside, you pushing him as he protests.

Once you’ve picked out what drinks you want, you approach the counter, and that’s when Hendery freezes.

“What? Why aren’t you moving?” you mutter, trying to nudge him forward, but he spins around in place.

“Do you have your ID?”

You blink. “I left it at home,”

He purses his lips, eyes sheepish, and lowers his voice. “Mine’s gone.”

“What?”

“Should we go and get yours?” he asks, and you scoff.

“That’s a twenty-minute drive away and a twenty-minute drive back. By then, this place’ll be closed.”

“So what are we supposed to do then?” he asks, voice rising a little.

You lean in, a not-so-innocent grin winding across your lips. “Run for it, duh.”

“But—”

“Go! Go! Go!” you shriek, and dart out the door with bottles in hand. Hendery doesn’t think twice before following you at a sprint, and the two of you book it to his car, the clerk shouting after you the whole time.

You hop in your seats, slam the doors shut, and speed off in mere seconds, shouting and screaming the whole way.

Once you’ve made it a safe distance, you pull over and the laughter sets in. Soon, you can’t stop the incessant giggling and both your stomachs’ are aching.

When you finally catch your breath, you suck in some air and glance sideways at your best friend. “My place?”

He nods, giggles still escaping his lips.

You take a sip of one of the beer cans Hendery got at the liquor store, hissing after it slides down your throat.

There’s a redness to your cheeks that reveals this isn’t your first can.

Setting your drink down on your side table, you slump against Hendery who’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of your bed.

The clock on your bedside table reads 1:27 AM, and he yawns.

He nudges you, muttering to get off, but you make a sound of protest and glom onto him even tighter.

“Y/n~” he whines. “I’m tired,”

“Hendery~” you mimic him, “I love you~”

“You must be really drunk not to pretend you hate me,” he snickers, cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

“I don’t pretend I hate you! I’m nice to you all the time!” you protest, sitting up and grabbing at his cheeks.

“Y/n, sto~p!” he groans, drawing out the last word.

“Not until you admit I’m nice to you all the time!” you pout, hanging over him.

He whines loudly, trying to shove you off, but you just jump into his lap for better access to pinch his cheeks and the both of you topple over onto your bed.

You pout slightly at his suddenly serious expression as he stares up you.

“Are you mad?” you ask, the room swirling a bit.

As you study his face, the thought occurs to you that you haven’t seen him drink all that much, and it takes quite a bit of alcohol to get him that drunk.

So why are his cheeks bright pink?

You glance down at your position, and you realize you’re straddling him— on your bed, no less.

Heat rushes to your face. You scramble off of him, darting to the edge of the bed and spouting stuttered apologies.

The sound of him sitting up reaches your ears, but you don’t turn until you hear him quietly call your name.

Your eyes meet like they usually do, but something is different this time.

His gaze lingers on yours for a little too long, something deep behind his eyes exposed in the rawness of the moment.

What’s different?

The lighting is dim, but you’ve been together in the dead of night countless times before. It’s unusually quiet, but comfortable silences are nothing new for you two. You’re touching, skin against skin, but you’ve been best friends for years— you’ve made contact before.

Maybe the difference is the look in his eyes as they hold yours; the feeling in your chest as the silence sinks deeper and deeper.

A question lingers just behind your lips, but you’re too afraid to break the silence; afraid that this moment might shatter if you do.

His big brown eyes, so comforting in the past, now make your whole body itch with self-awareness. You start to worry about blemishes on your face and skin, and if your hair is falling just the right way, when he reaches out a hand.

His fingertips brush your cheek, catching a few stray strands of hair.

His lips part and his hand slips behind your neck.

As he shifts closer, your heart beats out of your chest so frantically you’re sure he must hear it. But his eyes never leave yours, and he’s only inches away.

He’s never been this close to you. Not like this.

You close your eyes. Let your lips part—

He’s right there, you can feel it. You can smell his shampoo, the one he’s used for the past three years.

It never made you feel like this before.

And in a moment of pure bravery, you let a whisper escape your lips: “Kiss me.”

He does, and you realize you’ve never wanted anything more than what’s happening at this very moment.

Your hands find his shoulders, and his fingers tangle in your hair.

All you can hear is the pounding in your own chest and heavy breaths intermixing.

Sometime later, you stare up at the dark ceiling of your bedroom, the blurriness of intoxication now gone.

The room is empty. The only signs that someone else was here with you before is the faint aroma of someone else’s shampoo on your comforter and your puffy lips.

You blink, still not sure you didn’t dream what just happened in this room.

You don’t know when he left, or for how long you’ve been laying here in silence, but you remember the kiss in vivid detail as it replays over and over in your head.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, you shut your eyes and try to drift off to sleep.

The next day, what happened the night before is still the one and only thought preoccupying your mind. So much so, you find it difficult to pay attention in class.

Your mind is running at a million miles an hour.

Are we still best friends or something more? Are we dating now? Did he mean that kiss, or was it just a drunken mistake? Was he kissing me because he was upset over Soyeon or because he likes me?

But most of all, what is he going to say when we see each other?

As you walk to your locker, you chew your lip in anxiety. He’s waiting for you there already.

You both blink at each other in silence for a moment when he opens his mouth, and an avalanche of words tumbles out of your mouth.

“What happened last night was a mistake,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “We were drunk, and you were upset over Soyeon, and things happen. I think it’d be better if we both just forgot about it.”

You shove your textbook into your locker and slam it shut, glancing at him after.

He’s staring at the wall of lockers when he nods in agreement, and you stride off down the hallway without sparing him a second look.

Later that day in class, a text pops up on your phone from Hendery.

from: mother hen 🐥 — 12:13 PM

yo you wanna get mcdonalds tonight ?? my annoying cousins are staying at my house this week and i need to get outta there

to: mother hen 🐥 — 12:13 PM

👌👌👌

You exchange a smile with Hendery, sliding into the passenger seat of his car that night. The lights from inside the stores shine out onto the pavement as you drive, the radio playing faintly.

The two of you pull into the McDonald’s drive-thru and order much more than either of you can eat, chuckling at the disgusted faces of the McDonald’s employees.

He finds a spot in the back of the corner of the parking lot and the car engine sputters off, sinking the car into silence.

As you chew on some fries, he takes a sip of coke.

“I’m sorry,” he says without glancing over at you.

Your head swivels. “What?”

“Last night. I'm sorry,”

You’re silent for a moment.

“Are you upset?” he questions with an unreadable tone.

“No,” you retort, looking out the side window. “I just don’t know how you can be so calm and unaffected. You may think it’s okay to just kiss people whenever you feel like it, but you have no idea how much that affects people. My first kiss is now forever going to be a mistake. Something that never meant to happen.”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” he speaks up firmly. “Stop saying that.”

“What else am I supposed to call it? A drunken adventure?”

“I wasn’t drunk!” he bursts out. “I was completely sober. It wasn’t because I was drunk, and it wasn’t because I was upset over Soyeon. I don’t even like Soyeon!”

“Why then?”

“Why does anyone kiss anyone?” he shoots back. “It only counts as a mistake, huh? Fine then.”

He leans across the console and kisses you firmly, leaving you stunned.

Just as he goes to pull away, your limbs move on their own and pull him back into you so you can kiss him back.

In the back of your mind, it registers that he tastes like Coca-Cola.

You don’t mind at all.

438 notes · View notes

beautifullydisconnected · 5 years

Text

New Beginnings [Part 1]

This is part of @astrospideys and @spideypeach‘s writing challenge. Was going to originally make it a one shot and have it be pure angst but I thought I’d try something a little different. Prompt “Don’t you dare leave me like this!”

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning: Starts off fairly angsty and with a bit of heartbreak, but it gets better.

Synopsis: Heartbreak can ruin you, but what happens when you meet someone who can help you learn that you can heal and overcome the pain of the past?

Let me know what you think!

----------------- “Don’t you dare leave me like this!” you screamed after him, tears streaming down your face. How did you end up here? Just last week you and your boyfriend had been on vacation together, you had talked about marriage and looked at rings, you were happy you had to have been. You don’t change your mind in a week, what had happened between the two of you? But here you are now with him packing up all of his things leaving you alone in your once shared apartment. Silence echoed through your head, and the large now partly empty space seemed to be closing in around you. Tears continuing to run down your face as you stood in the entrance, hoping, praying that he would come back, that this was all some sick joke he was playing. But hours past and he was still gone, and there was no text telling you he was joking. People always told you it was better to have loved then lost, then to have never loved at all but in this moment you wished you had never known this kind of love.

For a week you held yourself up in your apartment, ignoring phone calls, calling in sick to work. You sat in your once lively apartment, trying to erase all the memories that were there, but there was no erasing what was wedged into every space of these rooms. Laughter that once filled the air, and music that you danced along to haunted your thoughts. No matter how much you tried to ignore it you knew you couldn’t stay here any longer. No matter how much stuff you cleaned out, and got rid of his ghost was still there watching you from every corner. You needed to rid yourself of this place that once was so happy, and start new. The man you loved was not coming back and you knew you couldn’t continue living somewhere where you were constantly reminded of him, and your life together.

----------------

Two Years Later

----------------

It had been two years since that night where your life had changed entirely, but you were happier than you had been in a long time. You had moved out of your old apartment, and out of the city. You left everything you once knew behind. You still talked to your friends and family, but you couldn’t stay in a place that held so many now painful memories. You had a new job, and had made new friends. You had decided that you were going to make the best of a horrible situation. You were going to focus on yourself, and only yourself. Which meant you had sworn off dating for the time being. You threw yourself into your work, even when it meant going back to school so that you could work your way up. You were going to create the life you always wanted but put on hold when you started dating your ex. Your friends always bugged you about how you were letting life pass you by. You just rolled your eyes, and kept on your own path. It’s not like you sat locked up in your house every night, and avoided social situations. You always made time to go out with your friends on weekends, and over to their houses when they had parties, and sure you never left with anyone, but that didn’t mean you weren’t looking.

Sure there were guys you had found attractive, and ones that you had hung out with but none of them seemed to be the right fit. They were all just missing that certain something, but it wasn’t something you were worried about, you were young, and whatever was meant to happen, would happen. Love and relationships would come and go and you knew that you needed to work on yourself, whether the people in your life understood that or not. You were always working, helping out friends, so it’s not like you were lonely, you just filled the space of a significant other with friends, work and school.

Today, however, you decided to take a day for yourself, which meant going to you favorite coffee shop, and then to the used bookstore down the road. It had been months sine you had a day for yourself, the past few weekends had been filled with work events, weddings, parties and whatever else your friends had decided to drag you to. You wanted one day for just yourself, and no work, no parties, no nothing, just a coffee and a good book (or five). As you walked into the coffee shop you were hit by the sounds of people talking and laughing, students hunched over their books, and typing away furiously. Couples snuggled together, families eating brunch. You got to the counter order your usual drink and made your way to the bookstore, a very distinct contrast to the coffee shop you had just left. It was quiet, a few people standing around looking at the books, light classical music playing in the background. You greeted the store clerks and made your way through the stacks of new arrivals first gaging if there was anything interesting there first, before making your way to the back and working your way forward.

You don’t know how long you had been wandering through the stacks, when you finally found a book that had been on your to be read list for years, as you grabbed it and began to read the back you bumped into someone.

“Sorry,” a voice said, you glanced up.

“No my bad, I should have been looking where I was going.”

“Thats a good book,” the stranger points to the book in your hand, “read it a few years ago and couldn’t put it down.”

“Oh well thats good to hear. I’ve been meaning to read it for a while, but I’ve been too busy to read anything besides work or school stuff.” You smiled.

“I’m Tom,” the stranger introduced himself.

“(Y/N)”, you shook his hand.

“I just started working here a few days ago, if you need a recommendation for after your done with that let me know.” He smiled and made his way back to the front of the store.

You continued your walk through the store collecting a few other books from coffee table reads, to comic books. As you made your way to the front Tom sat at the counter reading “Frankenstein”.

“Good choice of literature,” you spoke, startling Tom out of his reading.

“Uh, thanks,” he laughed a little flush creeping up on his cheeks, “I read it in college but definitely didn’t appreciate it enough as an eighteen year old.”

“I feel that. There are so many books I want to reread, but there are so many books I haven’t read that I want to read.”

“Ah the never ending dilemma of a bibliophile,” he mused.

“Truly the greatest of dilemmas,” you laughed.

Tom began to ring through your books.

“Spider-Man good choice, though I don’t know how well this pairs with “The Tattooist”.”

“I mean I need something to balance out what I’m assuming will be an emotional read”

“This is true, your total is $57.65.”

“Thanks for the book talk Tom, I’m sure I’ll see you around.” You grabbed your books.

“Nice to meet you (Y/N).”

As you made your way back home you couldn’t get the thought of Tom out of your head. Not that you were interested in him, but more so he seemed to be someone you could be friends with.

Tagging some friends: @thirsttrapholland @screamholland @hazssouthernbelle @hollandharrison @hollandsosterfield(Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part.)

#astropeachcelebration #writing challenge #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #tom holland writing #tom holland series

71 notes · View notes

wishxingwt · 5 years

Text

School’s Prince [황현진] Chapter Two

You always hated the school’s prince. He was always arrogant and always looked down on anyone less than him and always bullied people too. But if one incident made him think something else but himself, but you? Will you forgive him or keep hating him.

Pairing: HyunjinXFem!Reader

Teaser, 1, 2

Contains: Cursing,angst themes,sexual themes,fluff, and somewhat underage drinking

Hyunjin was quietly sleeping in his room after the wild party last night. His mom came inside his room and pulled his curtains back.

“Mom!” He whinrd as he covered his eyes from the sunlight.

“I bet your hungover too again! Did you even listen to what me and your father said about drinking too much?” He mother nagged as he whined.

“Yeah I get it” he said when he stretched his legs.

“Well go out and do something. You can’t just sit around all day! Go out with Jiyoo or someone” she said as she left his room.

He then looked at his bedside and saw Hyejoo’s phone. It managed to come on after he managed to dry it on the inside. But the phones comes on for a few minutes and then turns completely off for an hour.

Hyejoo’s words still ring into his head. He then shook his head and got out of bed. He texted Jiyoo to go on a date with him and she instantly said yes. He finished getting ready and he put Hyejoo’s phone in his pocket. He walked downstairs to where his mother was cleaning.

“Where are you going?” She asked

“I’m going out. I’ll be back!” He said as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

“Hyejoo!” Her grandfather called. She put down her book and walked towards the back to where he was.

“Yes?” She asked as she approached him.

“I need you to deliever these to the store for me. I have to fix the heater for fall” he said.

“You know I can’t ride your delivery motorcycle” she said.

“That’s why I borrowed a bike from my friend. Hurry back” he said as she nodded.

“Alright see you soon” she said as she biked off. Hyejoo knew she was close to the store because of how bad the traffic got. She arrived in front of the store and delivered the crate.

“Thank you Hyejoo! How’s your grandmother?” The shopw owner asked.

“She’s doing fine, but I’m scared cause it’s getting colder” she said.

“Well if she need any soup, you can come by here and get free soup” they said as she nodded.

“Alright bye” she said as she rode off towards her home.

“I’m still surprise that they still sell these phones!” The shop clerk said as he looked at the phone in shock.

“Can you fix it?” Hyunjin asked as the clerk shook his head.

“If it was a newer model then yeah, but since it’s an older model I can’t” he said as he shrugged his shoulders. “Where did you even get a phone like this?”

“It’s my friends. Her grandfather got her this gift” Hyunjin said.

“Well since it’s an older model, I can offer you the newest model” the clerk said as he motioned towards them.

“Fine.”

Hyunjin then met with Jiyoo by the entrance.

“You got a new phone oppa?” She asked.

“Yes and its for my mom” he lied as he tightened the bag in his grip.

“Well let’s go see a movie and then we can have dinner afterwards at your house?” She suggested as he nodded.

“Sure.”

The next day was a new week of school. Hyejoo walked through the parking lot, and Hyunjin and his group didn’t mess with her.

“Hm that’s strange” she thought as she walked into school. She went towards her locker. When she opened her locker, she saw a box with a bow on it.

Just take it- HHJ

She looked at the box and it was a phone. She was shocked why would the Hwang Hyunjin give her a phone? Maybe it’s just for her to be one of his ‘girlfriends’. She rolled her eyes and put it in her bag.

“And I just found it in my locker!” She said as she told Felix.

“Maybe he feels bad about breaking your phone?” Felix asked as she shook her head.

“Hwang Hyunjin doesn’t feel bad! All he feels is the popularity going to his head!” She said as she sat down on her bed.

“I’m not good with talking about these things, but you should talk about it to your grandfather. You know he has a answer for everything” he said.

“I guess your right. See you tomorrow” she said and waved goodbye to Felix.

Hyejoo went into the kitchen, where her grandfather was cooking something for her grandmother.

“Can I talk to you?” She asked as he turned around.

“Yeah sure” he said as he sat down. She then pulled the phone box from behind her back and placed it in front of him.

“Hyejoo-ah! Where did you get a phone like this?” He asked shocked.

“I didn’t get it. Some boy got it from me” she said.

“That’s very nice of him, but why do you act like you don’t want it..” he said as he trailed off.

“I don’t! The boy acts so arrogant! And his girlfriend is the worst too!” She said.

“I overheard Felix, maybe he does feel bad for breaking your phone. If I were you, I would take it as an apology” he said.

“That’s what grandfathers are for” he said as he smiled.

Hyejoo decided to take the phone and use it. She was surprised that her stuff was backed up on it. The couple of days of school were quiet until Jiyoo decided to make them hectic for her.

“Yah did you think that I was done with you?” She said as she pushed Hyejoo.

“Oh have I missed you Jiyoo” she said sarcastically, but she ended up only getting a slap in return. She stumbled backwards, only for something to fall out her pocket.

“That phone looks familiar...”Jiyoo said quietly and then got angry. “Are you dating Hyunjin!?”

“Why would I date him! I don’t even like him!” Hyejoo said as she rolled her eyes at Jiyoo.

“He’s not talking to me anymore and has been ignoring my calls and text! You probably did something to him!”

“You’re crazy Jiyoo” Hyejoo said as she walked away from the mess.

“This isn’t over Hyejoo!”

Hyejoo went to her convenience store job, but when she walked in Yuji wasn’t there.

“Maybe Yuji left early” she thought as she went to check in.

A few hours passed and Hyejoo was almost finished with her shift, but then she heard the bell rung, meaning someone has walked in. She looked up and saw Hyunjin by the ramen section, looking for ramen. He then walked up to the counter and set his things on the counter.

Hyejoo said nothing as she scanned his items. Hyunjin’s phone started blowing up with messages. Hyejoo isn’t the type to look at people’s notifications, but the name of the person caught her eye.

Jiyoo🙄: Hyunjinnie!

Jiyoo🙄: Hwang Hyunjin!

Jiyoo🙄: Answer your damn phone!

Jiyoo🙄: Oppa answer me!

Jiyoo🙄: Bitch

“Can’t she just leave me alone for a minute?!” He mumbled under his breath.

“Your total is 13.25” she said to him as he handed her his card. She gave him back his card and he grabbed his stuff and walked out the store.

Hyejoo puffed out her cheeks and continued working.

A few weeks passed and it started getting colder and colder. Hyunjin has tried to talk to Hyejoo, but he always get the cold shoulder from her. Hyejoo’s grandmother condition was getting worse. Hyejoo even refused to go to school just to be with her grandmother, but her grandfather always tells her to go to school and he’ll call her if anything bad happens.

She was currently getting her things for her next class, until her phone rung.

“Hello?” She said as she answered.

“Hyejoo-ah” grandfather said.

“Hello grandfather! How’s grandmother? Is she okay” she asked.

“About her, she’s not fine. She started coughing like crazy, sometimes blood came up. And she’s very hot, so I had to call an ambulance to take her into the hospital. The paramedics told me that she won’t survive this winter” he answered.

With that news, Hyejoo dropped her books in shocked. She knew the time was coming, but she didn’t think so soon! She ended the phone call and walked into her class with tears in her eyes.

When the last bell for school rung, she ran out her classroom but she was stopped by someone.

“Hyejoo wait!” Hyunjin said as she turned around.

“What do you want Hwang?” She asked annoyed.

“I know you won’t accept my apology, but I’m truly sorry for what I did” he said.

“I won’t and never will” she said.

“But can we be like friends or something?” He asked.

“We can be acquaintances, but nothing more!” She as she tried to leave him.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“To the hospital for a personal reason” she answered.

“How are you going to get there? If you try to catch the bus, you’ll get there in 30 minutes. But if I take you it’ll be like a 10 minute ride” he said.

“Fine!” She said as she walk with Hyunjin towards his car. Hyejoo managed to make it to the hospital and went towards the room her grandmother was in. She saw her grandfather talking to a woman.

“Hyejoo-ah!” He said which caught the attention of the woman. The woman had similar features as her mother, but more youthful.

“Hyejoo this is your aunt” he said. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

The next part is going to have the dialogue with her aunt

#hwang hyunjin #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #skz smut #stray kids fics #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #skz

58 notes · View notes

dva-xo · 5 years

Text

To Have and To Hold (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Summary: Sequel to A Winning Hand, found here. Arthur and Reader spend the day in Valentine. FLUFF

-----------

The ride to Valentine was short. You kept waiting for Arthur to bring up what happened last night, but he managed to avoid discussing it. You even mentioned how he must’ve taken all of Uncle’s money playing poker, but he just laughed and changed the subject. After a while, you began to think that he had been too drunk and forgotten the whole thing. But if that were true, why did he bring you a coffee this morning and invite you to Valentine with him? Either way, you decided to wait for him to bring up the subject before saying anything about it.

It was mid-morning when you arrived. You both hitched your horses outside of the saloon and entered together. Arthur walked to the bar to order two bowls of oatmeal, and you took a seat at a table near a window. You could sense that a few of the locals were watching you. They were no doubt familiar with Arthur, as a man like him is not easily forgotten. However, you imagined that, unless he was accompanied by other men from camp, he traveled to Valentine alone. They must have been surprised to see you with him.

As Arthur joined you, he placed the bowls down on the table and took a seat across from you. You expected that, if Arthur actually did remember last night, he would bring it up over breakfast as the two of you sat face-to-face. However, he barely said a word as he ate and breakfast was over rather quickly.

As you were leaving the saloon, Arthur mentioned that he needed to make a stop by the general store. You decided to visit the local hotel for a bath and agreed to meet him at the store after you were finished.

Because it was the middle of the day, the hotel was pretty quiet. The hotel clerk had one of his workers run you a bath, and you gratefully paid him 25 cents before walking to the back where the bath was kept. As you stripped off your clothes and lowered your body into the warm water, you immediately felt tension leave your body and your muscles relaxed.

Now that you were alone, you had time to process the events that had occurred in the last 24 hours. When it came to any kind of physical contact, Arthur was very detached. He wasn’t the type to hug people around camp. Heck, you barely saw him give anyone a high five or a handshake. So, why would he keep you in his lap last night if he didn’t feel something for you? And why wasn’t he saying anything about it? You took a deep sigh and started to scrub your arms. And why did it bother you so much?

You finished washing your body and put on some fresh clothes you had stored in your satchel. You thanked the clerk as you walked out of the hotel and back onto the streets of Valentine. As you approached the general store, you could see Arthur strapping some newly purchased items onto his horse. In his hand he held a leather-bound book with a vibrant cover.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a book in your hand, Arthur. You’re not turning into Dutch are you?,” you teased.

Arthur shoved the book into his satchel. “This ain’t mine. I bought it for Jack. The kid’s been askin’ for books lately.”

You gave an understanding nod and smiled. Arthur Morgan---notorious outlaw and caring uncle.

“That’s not all,” Arthur said as he reached into his satchel, “I also got this.” He pulled out a black leather gun holster with silver studs and vine tooling. “For you.”

“Oh, Arthur,” you gasped, taking the holster in your hands, “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

Arthur gave a shy smile and replied, “I figured you might need a new one. I saw last night that yours was a little worn down. Plus, I thought this one would go good with your belt.”

Last night. You debated on pressing him further, but he spoke before you could decide.

“So, now what?” he asked as he mounted his horse.

“Well, I thought we would return to camp,” you replied, fastening your new holster onto your belt.

Arthur didn’t respond, but instead gave a nod.

You sensed a change in Arthur’s mood and asked, “Did you have something else in mind?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I just thought maybe we could go fishing or something. It’s a nice afternoon and I don’t feel like spendin’ it doin’ chores.”

You laughed. “Well, you have a point there. Fishing it is.” You unhitched your horse from the post and mounted your saddle. “After you.”

Arthur led you to a shady spot along the Dakota River. You both quickly assembled your fishing poles and applied your bait. As you cast your line into the water, you kicked off your boots and sat down on the cool grass. Arthur cast his line in the opposite direction of yours. Once he was satisfied with the spot of his line, he dug his heel into the soft dirt, creating a small hole. He then inserted his fishing pole into the ground, and leaned it against some rocks so that there was no slack in the line.

“There,” Arthur said, sounding pleased. “Anything worth catchin’ should make the pole move.” He retrieved his journal from his satchel and sat against a nearby tree.

This was how you passed the rest of the afternoon---Arthur writing in his journal as you sat along the river bank. Over the span of a few hours, you each caught a couple of fish, and Arthur suggested them for dinner. As he built a fire and prepared the fish, you picked some spices from a nearby field. Although the weather remained clear, you could see some clouds rolling in, which brought a cool, crisp wind.

As you ate dinner, Arthur sat against the tree and watched the sunset. “It’s gettin’ late.”

“Yeah,” you responded, taking a large bite out of a bread roll Arthur had bought from the store earlier, “We better head back soon.”

Arthur’s eyes left the sunset and turned to you. He gave an amused smile at the sight of you chewing happily.

“What?” you asked, grinning.

Arthur smiled softly and replied, “I don’t want to take you back. I want to keep you all to myself.”

His response caught you off guard, and you looked to the ground. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you could feel yourself blushing. Although you had looked away, you could feel that Arthur’s eyes hadn’t left you.

“Well,” you began timidly, “If we leave now, we probably won’t make it back to camp until night time. What if we make camp and head back tomorrow morning?”

Arthur gave a pleased smile and nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

After dinner, you and Arthur unloaded items from your horses to set up camp. As you began to assemble your tent, you noticed that Arthur only had his bedroll.

“No tent? I saw some clouds earlier. They looked like they might bring some rain.”

Arthur shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I had to leave my old tent in a hurry. I didn’t have time to pack it up.”

You smirked, “I don’t want to know why.” Arthur chuckled and came over to help you.

It was dark by the time you had both laid out your bedrolls. The wind had picked up, so you grabbed a couple of blankets from your saddle. Arthur refused the one that you offered him, so you took both into your tent. You removed your boots and gun belt in an effort to get more comfortable. As you lay down, a light rain began to fall. Sleeping in the rain wasn’t too bad. You had done it many times. But the chilling wind was far from pleasant, and you imagined that Arthur wasn’t very comfortable.

“Hey, Arthur?” you called out, poking your head out from the tent.

He was laying on his back with his legs crossed at the ankles while his hands rested on his stomach. He turned his head to you as he responded, “Yeah?”

“It’s starting to rain pretty good. I, uh, wouldn’t mind if you joined me in here.”

Arthur turned his head back towards the sky and closed his eyes, “I’m okay, darlin’. Don’t worry about me.”

The rain began to fall harder. “Arthur, I’m not going to let you sleep in the rain.”

“I’d take up all the room in your tent. I don’t want to be a bother. Now please, get some sleep and stop worryin’ about me.”

You let out a frustrated sigh. Why was he being so difficult? Wasn’t he the one that said he wanted to keep you to himself? Wasn’t he the one who had invited you to join him on his trip to Valentine? Wasn’t he the one who had bought you a gift?

Then it finally hit you. He had spent the entire day being sweet on you. Now it was your turn to show how you felt. If you wanted him in your tent, you had to ask him.

“Arthur.” You said his name in a tone that made him lift his head and look at you. “Please come here.”

His eyes studied you, trying to decide whether you actually wanted him, or if you were just being nice. For a moment, the only thing filling the silence between you was the sound of the rain falling on your tent. Finally, he spoke, “Are you sure, darlin’?”

You gave a reassuring nod and responded, “I want to fall asleep in your arms again.”

Convinced, Arthur sat up and gathered his bedroll while you made room for him inside your tent. Arthur made his way inside, and you were barely able to close the flaps of the tent before you felt his arms wrap around your waist and pull you effortlessly into his lap, your back landing against his chest. Despite the little time he had spent in the rain, his shirt was soaked, and cold. You sat up on your knees and turned to face him. You removed his bandana and discarded it in a corner. As your fingers started to unbutton his shirt, his hands caught your wrists and he gave you a confused grin.

“You’re freezing. If you stay in this shirt all night, you’ll get sick.”

He nodded and released your wrists, untucking his shirt from his pants to make it easier for you. Once you had his shirt unbuttoned, you pushed it over his shoulders, and let it fall to the ground. His bare skin felt good under your hands, and you found yourself running them over his muscular chest. Arthur let out a soft chuckle as he watched you admiring his body.

“I’m startin’ to think this wasn’t about me gettin’ sick.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing and reached for one of the blankets. “Here,” you wrapped it around his shoulders before laying down onto your bedroll, turning your back to him.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he responded. He reached for the other blanket and draped it over your body. You felt him lower his body next to yours. With ease, he reached one arm around your waist, another around your shoulders, and pulled your body into his.

The warmth of his body was comforting, and the soft sound of the rain against your tent was soothing. Your eyes immediately grew heavy, and you fell asleep to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

------------

Notes: So, I apologize that this isn’t as fluffy as Part 1, but I’m planning on writing a Part 3 that is probably going to be super fluffy. So stay tuned...

As always, thanks to @verai-marcel for being my beta reader!

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #fluff

99 notes · View notes

urdbell18 · 5 years

Text

A Seed Hidden in the Heart Chapter 16: The One With a Little Hope

AN:I'M BACK!!!!!!!!!!!! And with a brand new chapter for you guys. Was it worth the wait? I don't know but here it is! Enjoy!

Since the summons arrived Zelda entered into a state that was a combination of depression and catatonic. She walked around like a zombie, a shell of her former self that could perform her basic humanly functions. Though not lacking in her duties as a teacher her students noticed that Zelda wasn’t herself and Rosalind and Theo asked if there was anything they could do to help but not even Mary knew how to help Zelda beyond just being there. Mary wouldn’t begin to say she understood what Zelda was feeling, yes she loved Vida like her own but the connection that Zelda and Vida had was something deeper. That connection was why whenever Vida was around Zelda painted on a smile to allude that nothing was wrong, acted like everything was normal when every night after tucking Vida into bed Zelda cried. All Mary could do was hold her and wish that there was something that she could do. It came to her one afternoon on a Saturday in April.

That day had been particularly bad. Zelda wouldn’t stop crying, she couldn’t even muster enough energy to get out of bed. Mary shuffled Vida out, saying Zelda was just a little sick and she was okay. Vida looked at her like she didn’t believe her, and to be honest Mary didn’t even believe herself, but she agreed and headed downstairs. In the kitchen Mary and Hilda shared a quick look and a slight nod. Hilda will take care of Zelda, Mary will handle Vida. Armed with a list of errands Mary and Vida left. After stopping at the pharmacy and the home improvement store for some fertilizer the last thing on Hilda’s list was to fix a clasp on a watch of hers that broke. Mary loathed to go into the shopping district on a weekend but wanting to give Hilda as much time as possible she decided to suck it up and go.

The bell on the jewelry store tinkled when Mary entered shaking off her umbrella as it started to rain lightly. Vida who was decked out in her raincoat with matching boots and hat shook her head when Mary took her hat off, causing red ringlets and little droplets of water to fly everywhere. Mary smiled and fussed over Vida’s hair to make it somewhat neat. A salesperson came over and asked how they could help them. When Mary explained that she needed a watched to be fixed the salesperson led her over to one of the glass cases to have a closer look. At first Vida was next to her, holding onto the side of her leather trench coat but becoming bored at having looked at everything in the case started to wonder. Mary was two seconds away from calling Vida back but stopped. Other than her, Vida, and a few other employees there were only two other customers and Vida was smart enough to not go with anyone or out of the store so Mary turned back to the sales person but kept an ear out for the slight ‘squelch’ that Vida’s boots made on the shops carpet. After several minutes of looking through watches they eventually found something that could match the original fixture the sales clerk went into the back to talk to the person who did the actual hardware work Mary turned to find Vida.

Vida was standing in front of a glass case filled with little charms and pendants for necklaces and bracelets. The charms were all arranged by shape, grouped together by metal type, gold and silver mostly, and gemstone options. Mary quickly recognized the birthstone gems as the pieces were arranged in neat double rows of six. Vida was, of course, fascinated with the little bear pendants. The pendants were about half the size of Mary’s finger tip but the detail was impressive. The 3D bears had little eyes and noses and a tail on its sitting bottom plus soft carving marks to resemble fur. On one foot was a small round gemstone that fit perfectly with the pad of the bears paw.

“What do you have here baby bear?”

“Look at the little bears Mamma they’re so cute.”

“That they are.” The longer Mary stared at the bears wheel started to turn in her head as an idea started to form. The sales clerk that was helping them with the watch came back pulling Mary away from the bear pendants. The watch was fixable and Mary filled the work order so Hilda could pick it up later.

“Is there anything else I can help you with Ma’am?” Mary thought about it for a minute. The bear pendants came back to mind.

“There is one thing.” Mary took the clerk over to the bear pendants and he pulled out the little shelving they rested on out so she could have a closer look. The bears were, as Mary predicted, part of the stores birthstone collection so each bear had a different gemstone. A gold bear with a 36 inch chain was almost $200, a little steep but for Zelda it was worth it.

“What do you think baby bear?” Mary picked up Vida so she could see the bears more clearly. “Should we get one for you Mom?”

“Yes!” Vida then told the sales clerk when her birthday was, May 16th, and he pulled out a pre boxed bear with an emerald gemstone.

“Would you like to get it engraved? It’s $10 and we can do it today in about an hour.” Tempted Mary agred, she and Vida could get lunch and come back to get the necklace. Mary told the clerk what she wanted. When she came back for it the necklace was wrapped up nicely in a little box with a blue ribbon.

After some debate Mary decided not to wait until Mother’s Day to give the necklace to Zelda. That next day she recruited Vida to make their special breakfast, french toast light on the powdered sugar and syrup with some egg whites, a small cup of fruit, a lightly buttered biscuit, and a mug of coffee. Balancing the tray Mary and Vida brought it back upstairs to surprise Zelda. Mary hung back with the try as Vida, after setting down the mug of coffee that she was entrusted with on the nightstand, climbed up onto Zelda’s bed to wake her. It didn’t take much, Zelda hasn’t been sleeping well either and it only took a little prodding to wake her.

“Surprise!” Zelda looked at Vida then at Mary as she placed the breakfast tray.

“What is this?”

“Me and Momma made you our special breakfast. To make you feel better.” Zelda gasped a little in shock, she didn’t know that Vida picked up on her mood, but hid it well.

“Thank you baby.” The bed dipped as Mary joined them on the bed and they shared breakfast. When the tray was empty Mary handed Vida the small box that held the necklace.

“We got you this Mommy.” Zelda took the box, not sure what it could be or why she was receiving this gift. After untying the ribbon the dark blue box opened with a soft crack. Zelda’s eyes widened and she gave a faint gasp. “Do you like it Mommy?” The tiny gold bear looked so much bigger cradled in the soft lining of the box, tiny emerald catching the light. The new addition to the bear, the thing that had Zelda almost in tears, was a tiny engraving on the bears other paw that said ‘V.S.’

“I love it.” Vida smiled and snuggled into her mother’s side. Zelda handed the box to Mary so she could place the necklace on her. Sweeping Zelda’s hair over her shoulder Mary fastened the necklace around Zelda’s slender neck. Though not big the bear stood out against Zelda’s pale skin, the pendant resting lightly on her chest. When the necklace was securely in place Zelda turned back to face Mary and brought her close to share a kiss. Mary returned it, making it just a little deeper and longer.

____________________

After that Zelda was in a better mood. She wasn’t 100%, Mary believed that wouldn’t happen until this whole mess was over, but she stopped crying and could muster real small smiles. She also realized that she couldn’t ignore the inevitable anymore. She needed to hire an attorney. Over the next week or so Zelda contacted several law firms that looked to be in her price range and could help her. None of them, even after a respected waiting time, responded back. Zelda started to panic, she knew that Faustus would have an attorney that would destroy her in a single breath. If she wanted even a snowballs chance in hell to keep her daughter she needed her own representation but with no responses she was starting to go back into her depressed state. Just as it seemed that hope was lost Zelda received a very interesting email on Saturday afternoon.

Dear Ms. Spellman,

I heard from the grapevine that you are looking for an attorney for an upcoming custody case. My name is Daniel Webster, I don’t have a law firm nor work for one but I do have a license to practice law with a decade worth of trial experience. An old friend of mine from one of the law firms that you contacted pointed me in your direction and gave me your email, I hope you don’t mind. I would like to take your case pro bono. To prove that I am not a scammer we can meet in a neutral location on your terms and I have attached some links to a few of the cases that I worked on. Write me back when you can.

Signed, Daniel Webster

Deciding to take a leap of faith Zelda wrote back to Mr. Webster that she would meet him at Hilda’s book shop just after breakfast. Vida was with Mary, Zelda dropped them off at the park with a promise that if they got tired or if the weather turned bad to come to the store. Dr. Cee allowed her to use his back office for the meeting, it was quiet and it plus the tea that Hilda gave her helped her remain calm. At five past ten Hilda let in a middle age man with short white hair and beard and dressed in a nice but not flashy navy blue suit.

“Ms. Spellman.” Mr. Webster held out his hand and they shook hands for a brief moment. Hilda asked Mr. Webster if he would like anything but he said no. With that Hilda closed the door behind her and she and Mr. Webster were alone. Mr. Webster opened his briefcase and took out a legal pad and pen. “So let’s begin. According to court documents a Faustus Blackwood is suing you for full custody of your daughter.”

“Yes.”

“Is he the child’s biological father?”

“Unfortunately.”

“And when did your relationship end?”

“About a month after I found out I was pregnant.” After she gave her answer Mr. Weber straightened up.

“You have had no contact with Mr. Blackwood before now?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Good. We can use that. Do you have the girls birth certificate?” Zelda pulled out a folder from her purse that contained all of the important papers regarding Vida. Each family member had their own folder in a locked drawer in the credenza next to the kitchen. Zelda handed Mr. Weber Vida’s birth certificate. Mr. Webster scanned over the document and his eyes widened. Zelda didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad.

“Ms. Spellman we have nothing to worry about.” Zelda’s heart stopped in her chest but it was a good stop. A huge wave a relief blew over her and she felt like she could breathe again without this crushing weight against her. She didn’t know why she had so much confidence in Mr. Webster but she did and if he said she didn’t have to worry than she won’t. She really hoped he was right.

With their meeting concluded Zelda went out to the main area. Mary and Vida weren’t there, they still must be at the park. Zelda, after debate decided to walk the short distance to the park. The weather was nice, sunny with just a bit of cloud and a nice breeze that was refreshing but not knee shaking. When she arrived at the park Vida was hanging from the monkey bars with Mary close to her ready to spring into action if Vida needed her. Zelda was impressed as Vida made the last four bars to the landing on the jungle gym set. Though too far away to hear Mary said something that made Vida flush with pride and she ran off to the higher part of the jungle gym. When Zelda reached Mary she took the other woman’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Meeting went well?” Zelda nodded and rested her head against Mary’s shoulder. Given hope Zelda could relax enough to enjoy physical contact with Mary. Mary let go of Zelda’s hand to drape her arm over Zelda’s shoulder. They stayed that way until Vida called out to them, she was standing at the opening of a slide. Zelda moved to the end so that when Vida reached it she scooped her up. Vida giggled as Zelda pressed her close and kissed her cheek.

“Ready to go?” Vida nodded and they, after Zelda took Mary’s hand again, walked back to the car to go home.

#Zelda Spellman #Madam Satan #madam spellman

9 notes · View notes