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thyme-in-a-bubble · 9 months ago

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the slow night

buttercup, chapter six

a/n: he a hoe and I love him. thank you and goodnight.

summary: as the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, kissing, semi public sex (at the bakery), clothed sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3244

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Leaning against the doorway to the small bakery bathroom, you watched Walter’s tongue poke out the side of his mouth as he flicked glittery stripes of eyeliner over his lids.

“You sure you’re okay with closing up on your own tonight?” you heard Howard ask you as he sat on a low stool some space behind you, bending down to tie his shoes.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you smiled, glancing back over your shoulder at him, “you two deserve a night off.”

Staring out into space, your uncle leaned his tattooed forearms on his robust thighs a moment as he murmured, “you know, I don’t even remember the last time we went out…” casting a glance past you at the bald man in front of the mirror, Howard raised his voice, “honey, did you find out what queens are performing tonight?”

Popping the lid back on the pencil, the former club kid tilted his head approvingly in the reflection, “I think Holly Day still works Friday nights there, but other than that I have no idea,” he exited the bathroom, only to press a small peck to your cheek as he slid passed.

“Urgh,” you groaned with a smile, letting your inner child temporarily show as you dragged the back of your palm over the faint lipstick stain, “well, have fun you two!”

“Night, night, cupcake,” Howard blew you a few brief kisses as the pair scurried out of the shop, “don’t forget to feed the sourdough starter, oh! And mix a new batch of ginger maple cookies, portion them out and pop them in the freezing–, also–”

“Howard,” you interrupted him with a smile just as Walter pulled open the back door for them to exit, “I know what I need to do. I’ve done this countless of times before, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Alright,” he exhaled slowly.

“If it’ll help, I can send you a picture of the place before I lock up.”

A relieved smile then warmed up your uncle’s features, “thank you, sweetie.”

Half yanking his husband out of the door, Walter offered you one last wave, “bye, Y/n!” before the solid door slammed shut behind them.

Bending down, you put the last one of the wide and clean bowls away on the bottom shelf of the metal storage system in the corner of the kitchen.

The skirt of your dress swooshed gently around your legs as you straightened back up, like a summer breeze, fluttering against your skin. Reaching for a clean cloth, you briefly ran it under the tap before wiping down the aftermath beside the sink following your dance with the dishes. One of the tiny puddles of splashed water soaked your apron as you leaned over the steel table to reach deeper, turning it a darker shade of brown right over your belly button.

Just then, from out of nowhere, “hi,” the voice of your neighbour echoed throughout the kitchen, thoroughly startling you and causing the rag to drop from your grasp.

“Ah!” you jumped, haven not even heard the back door creak open, “Matthew!” pressing a soothing palm to your chest as you spun around, a light giggle flowed from your lips, “oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, leisurely leaning against the far counter close to the back exit.

You already knew he’d be out on patrol tonight, but actually seeing him stand there before you was something else entirely. The black suit clung tight to his physic, and now that grave injuries no longer distracted and adorned his visage, the vision of the obsidian vigilante that stood in front of you proficiently provided you with a sinful shiver that trickled down your spine.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, attempting to brush off the tingle that bloomed between your thighs.

A bold smirk bloomed on his lips, visible below the dark mask, as he slowly stepped closer to you, “it’s a slow night,” gently tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the table he passed, an action you didn’t expect to find as seductive as you evidently did, goosebumps now blossoming all along your arms.

“A slow night, huh?” you chuckled, tilting your chin as he neared.

“And I was in the area,” he cocked his head as his hands settled on either side of your frame, leaning against the counter behind you.

“How convenient,” you smiled, his light-hearted explanations not convincing you in the slightest. Matt’s fingers then found your chin, tilting it further up as he bent down to brush his lips against your own. Your knees nearly buckled as you felt yourself swiftly sink into the intoxicating sensation, your arms gliding up and over the black fabric that hugged him, till they were locked around his neck. As the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

Mirroring your own chuckle, he playfully tested, “and what if I am, huh?”

“Wait, really?” you giggled, your hands seized each side of his face and pulled him back a bit as his hot mouth worked wonders at making you lose your train of thought, “you sure you weren’t just hungry or something?”

“Hm,” his palms slid up to cup over yours as he cheekily said, “something, yeah…” peeling your fingers off of his stubbly cheeks, he placed a few pecks in your open palms, “I would fucking love a taste of something sweet.”

Tearing your gaze away from his onyx visage, you briefly cast a glance around the space, “uhm, I don’t really know what’s left over from today, but there might be someth–”

“Nuh-uh, that’s not the kinda treat I was thinking of,” he smirked brightly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you in closer to his warmth as his fingers sneaked under the apron’s knot.

Finally reading his obvious subtext, “o-oh,” you couldn’t help but giggle as he then leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your laugh till it melted away into a low moan that vibrated against his lavish tongue.

Scrambling closer, you damn nearly climbed him like a tree with how desperately you clawed at his mass. When his touch slid further down your frame and curved around your ass, he briefly offered you a squeeze that you swore soared all the way to the sensitive nerve endings in your throbbing clit, before he scooped you up and sat you down on the steel countertop. As he slotted his width in between your parted thighs, his teeth playfully caught your bottom lip.

Fluttering your fingers further up, you cupped the sides of his face as the heated make-out slowly began to ease. The tips of your touch grazed the bottom of his black mask as you gently pulled back.

Blinking back at him through your lashes, your digits ghosted over the material as you uttered, “…can I take this off?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he softly nodded, “mhm,” and let you peel the charcoal mask off of him. Letting it drop to the table right beside where you sat, you gazed back at him for a moment, his chocolate eyes gently crinkled up in bliss as you briefly traced a light caress over a few of his newly revealed features before you sealed your lips with his once more.

Undoubtedly, your panties must have clung to your core at this point from how soaked they felt.

Abruptly, Matt’s soft lips suddenly strayed from yours. Fluttering your gaze open, a giggle bubbled out of your lungs as you saw him slowly sink down to the tile floor beneath you.

“Matty,” you beamed, your touch straying from his cheek as he settled down on his knees.

Slowly raising a sliver of your hemline up to your knees, his lips grazed against your shin and leisurely roamed further north.

Burying your fingers in the fabric of your dress, you gently began to hike it up till it, and the brown apron, bunched above your hips.

Your breathing was ragged, and your mouth hung agape when his kisses neared your centre. One of his warm palms stayed planted on your inner thigh after he’d split your legs further to grant himself better access as you sat there, nearly dangling on the edge.

A shiver ran through you when he placed a brief kiss to the soaked spot soddening your underwear, before his reach extended and hooked the cotton to the side, a sting of your slick clung momentarily to the fabric before snapping back against your core.

“Fuck,” he let out a gravelly groan and you felt his breath tickle your cunt before his hand, the one not clutching your soaked panties, curled around your frame and tugged you towards him, closing the minuscule distance between his zealous mouth and your glistening centre.

Parting your petals with dizzying laps, Matt let out a moan as he made out with your pussy, the tickling vibrations caused your thighs to tremble beside his head.

“God…” spellbound, he pulled back for but a second, “your pussy tastes like fucking heaven,” before he tilted his chin and enraptured your clit, fervently sucking down on it in a way that made your eyes roll in your skull.

“Oh my god, I–, I–…” you panted, sensing yourself race towards the finish line, but even with how incredible his tongue made you feel, deep down within you rumbled a feral feeling for more. As your pelvis bucked lightly against his efforts, you gasped, “Matt… get up…” unsure if you’d ever felt so empty in your entire life, “get up right fucking now.” When he rose, the lower part of his face glinting with your want, he didn’t get a chance to say anything before you yanked him by his shirt and crashed your lips against his. With the intoxicating taste of yourself lingering on your mouth, your heavy breath fanned across his face as you desperately uttered, “in the corner behind you, on the hook beside where my coat is, my bag, the little front pocket.”

Breathlessly, his expression fogged up in soft puzzlement, “what?”

“I went to the drugstore earlier,” you said, hoping that you wouldn’t have to spell it out for him.

It actually took him a second for him to realise what you were talking about, “oh,” as if he hadn’t hoped or expected anything more than what you’d just let him do. Crossing the room in mere moments, a playful chuckle rumbled from his chest as he fished out the box of condoms, “this is a big pack… were you planning on seducing me?”

Rolling your eyes, you giggled, “oh, shut up and get back here.”

As soon as he was back in your reach, your fingers began to fiddle with his belt, impatiently freeing him as you virtually drooled seeing the imprint of his cock strain against the dark fabric of his pants.

“Put it on, please, please, I wanna feel you so bad,” you begged as he ripped the foil packet open.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, please,” your hungry eyes were glued to his breath-taking fist as he offered himself a brief pump before he hastily rolled the condom on, “Matt, if you don’t fuck me right now then I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Sighs flowed from the both of you in unison when Matt sank into your drooling cunt. You almost felt drunk, that’s how wound up you’d gotten.

“Oh, you feel so fucking good,” Matt exhaled, letting his forehead melt against your own as he rolled his hips, getting impossibly deep before drawing back a bit and finding a rhythm that caused your legs to be like crickets, shakily rubbing against either side of his frame as fucked you, “sweetheart–, christ… you’re about to cum, aren’t you?” his lips tilted up into a smirk.

“D-don’t you dare stop,” you panted, clawing needily against his torso.

“I won’t, I promise,” he then sank a hand down between your frames to tickle your puffy pearl, “I could do this all day, baby.”

You collapsed back on your elbows when your pussy fluttered around him and a lewd cry accompanied the high.

Panting against the cool table, you hazily blinked up at him as he then uttered in the deepest sincerity.

“God, I'm crazy about you, Y/n,” his expression was soft and dreamlike, “you know that?”

Your eyes went wide a moment, entirely forgetting how to fill your aching lungs, “really?” you then regained control rather gracelessly as you nearly coughed, “sorry... I forgot how to breathe for a second there,” the grin that bloomed on your lips nearly hurt.

Snatching one of your hands up in his, he weaved his fingers with your own, “you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m amazing…” you gazed up at him, “I’m also completely and utterly wild about you,” you then tugged on his hand, drawing him down enough for your lips to graze against his.

His hips instinctively rolled as your tongue flicked across his own, grinding briefly into your sensitivity before he noticed and went back to being completely still within you.

But when your sloppy kiss then parted, you tilted your own hips a bit, slowly fucking yourself shallowly on his cock. As he gently offered you a tender thrust, gradually pulling out of your clinging cunt just a tad, you glanced down between the shy space betwixt you and spotted the ring of your cream that stained the base of his dick.

“Fucking hell,” you whimpered as he straightened his spine back out and brought the back of your palm up to his lips, “I don’t get how I bounce back so quickly with you. It’s like you just have to smile and then I’m just–, oh my god!” you moaned as he changed his angle, brushing directly against a spot that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Oh, you like that? Right there?” he repeated the same lavish motion.

“Y-yes–,” with your interlocked fingers, he then pulled you back up to a sitting position, the shift leaving you breathless, “fuck. You feel so good right now,” his hand let go of yours as it then snaked around your back, his burly forearm supporting your spine as the fingers reached up to weave within your hair, gently scraping his short nails over the nape of your neck.

Drawing you in even closer, your chest pressed against his as he kissed your cheek sweetly while he kept his pace meticulous and precise.

Hugging onto his broad shoulders, your head dropped down to rest against one of them as you then muttered, “harder,” your gaze hazy on the kitchen behind him before your eyes fluttered shut. When he then snapped his hips forward a little more electrically, you weakly repeated in his ear, “harder.”

Slamming into your needy cunt so fiercely that the sound of your skin colliding echoed off the tile walls and a bit of drool began to stain his dark shirt as your cheek stayed smooshed against his width.

“That it?” he growled silkily, “huh?” but when you couldn’t form any coherent words within the mess of moans that flowed from your lips, you didn’t have to see his face to know the grin that bloomed on his face, “aw, it’s alright, sweetheart,” his grip tightened in your hair, “you’re doing so good for me,” tugging intoxicatingly right at the roots, “just relax… that’s it… good girl…”

Keeping his pace rough, he lavishly slid out of you till just his bulbous tip plugged you up, before ramming his cock back in so feverishly that you could scarcely breathe at all, just tremble in his embrace, listening to the pure filth that he murmured in your ear, till you both tumbled over the edge.

With his spent girth nuzzled against your tender pussy, faint hums of contentment flowed from your lungs as Matt gently stroked your hair, his other arm wrapped around you as well as he kept your sluggish frame close to his long after you’d both regained your breaths.

As your fingers disappeared below his neckline and softly rubbed against the warm skin, your voice eventually found his ear, “okay, so I know that you didn’t come in here for a late-night snack,” the corners of your lips tilted upwards, “but now I’m kinda hungry.”

With a gentle chuckle rumbling within his chest, he briskly tugged himself away and untangled himself from you, “one second,” his lips pressed against your hairline before you saw him turn around and wander out of the kitchen.

As you watched him disappear into the front of the bakery, you tugged your panties back over your mess and pushed your dress back down, “oh, I'm not sure if there’s anything left out there–”

“Do you want a raisin bun or a very seedy one?” he asked and your brows flew up as you still hadn’t gotten used to how perceptive his heightened senses let him be.

“Oh, uhm,” you blinked, completely blown away, “raisin.”

Appearing before you once more, he handed you the speckled bun, “here.”

Smiling adoringly back at him, “thank you,” you sank your teeth into the pillowy treat before offering him a small bite, which he gladly accepted as a tender laugh rolled out of him. When you had consumed the sweet bun, a soft yawn promptly flowed out of you, “fuck,” his palms were warm at your waist as your arms briefly curled up beside your head, “I can’t wait to get back home and sleep.”

“How much do you have left to do till you can lock up?”

“Not too much,” your hands dropped back down and rested atop of his for a moment, “how about you? How long do you think you’ll be out there?”

“Probably not too much longer either,” his head tilted gently before he leaned back in.

“Alright,” you smiled, tenderly pressing your lips to his before he snatched up the discarded mask and tugged it back over his features. As his feet began to carry him towards the exit, he paused as soon as you said, “hey Matt?”

“Yeah?” the vigilante twisted back to face you.

A bubble of nerves suddenly fluttered in your belly as you uttered, “when you get back tonight, could you maybe–, uhm… or maybe I could–…”

Swiftly getting at what you were trying to convey, Matt simply marched right back to where you sat and pulled you in for a kiss. Cradling your cheeks a moment longer as he slowly pulled back, he smiled, “there’s a spare key to my place behind the radiator in the hallway.”

Gazing back at him, you uttered, “okay,” feeling like you were floating on a cloud.

“I'll try not to get home too late,” he breathed, pressing his lips to yours one last time before he backed up again.

Calling after him, “be safe!” he stopped on the threshold of the back door for a second, silhouetted by the dark city as he flashed you a grin before he disappeared into the night, leaving you in the bakery alone, feet dangling off the table as a bright smile tenaciously lit up your face.

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock smut #marvel smut #matt murdock fluff #daredevil smut

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hazelfoureyes · 4 months ago

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HAZEL IT'S MY BIRTHDAY 🎉🎂🎂!!!

Happy birthday from the hazbin babies I’m capable of writing for! 🎉

💚Alastor💚

A quiet moment alone, his long legs allowed his feet to rest on either side of one of your own as you sat across from him. Comfy reading chairs, a heatless fire. You didn’t notice him watching you from over his paper. Then one of those purposely placed feet knocked against yours and stole your attention. He pointed to the garish cuckoo clock above the fireplace and let his grin soften. As the bird sprung out to begin its 12 chirps, he’d set the paper down fully and pull your chair closer to him with his shadow. “Happy Birthday.”

💛Lucifer💛

From the moment you woke up, he was staring at you with stars in his eyes. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Sang into your hair the second you lifted your head from the pillow. As he pulled your through Lu Lu Land after hours he’d grip your hand tightly and run to the Ferris wheel. When the car reached the top, he’d direct your attention to the window behind you. The fireworks would erupt and light up the otherwise shadow-filled space gently rocking you both front and back. You’d turn to ask if this was all for you, but be stopped by the shining lights staring back at you from his eyes. He’d kiss your nose, and smile wide. Of course it was.

🩷Angel🩷

He knew exactly what you needed and was eager to provide. The blindfold made you nervous, naturally. He could remove it to reveal you were in Consent or he was spread naked on a table covered in sushi and purring. Not that it hadn’t been a fun Thanksgiving. All were fine just not what you had been hoping for. But the walk from door to the surprise was quick and the smell of lavender and roses met you before your eyes were uncovered. “I know you’ve been real busy…” he said it almost meekly, as if he was worried this wasn’t enough, “and we never get much time together.” He let the blindfold fall to the bathroom floor. A large tub full of rose petals, long stem glasses and lavender candles in the sides, and two soft robes neatly folded on the counter. “No interruptions! No phone! I’ll keep all my appendages to myself!” He raised his arms, “unless you say otherwise.” A wink. “Happy Birthday pookie?” He tried to read your face in the darkness. You immediately began undressing, desperate to sink under the petals and just melt, “The happiest of birthdays, Angie.”

❤️Charlie❤️

You knew it’d be a surprise party, as Charlie was as predictable as people came. You hadn’t expected it to be off hotel grounds though. Charlie held her hands over your eyes as the car came to a stop, keeping them there as she directed you into the establishment. You could hear whispers then shuffling of feet and scooting of chairs. “Sit right heeeeere,” she adjusted the seat after you were settled, trying to get it into the best spot.

A pop song began to play, then clapping and hollering from more people than you were sure you knew. As she pulled her hands back and rose them into the air, a chorus of “Happy Birthday!”s rang out from friends and loved ones. And a special someone, already on stage.

“Charlie— is this?”

“You mentioned you’d never seen her show before and so I pulled a few strings.” You looked down at the table to see a pile of ones, the sight of Luci on them a little odd as you looked back up to see Hell’s top drag queen and Lucifer impersonator, Queen Loose For Sure, holding her hat out for a tip.

🤍Husk🤍

A speakeasy was unnecessary in Hell, given that having a tipple was encouraged. But you knew Husk dug the vibes. Though he risked running into Alastor, he offered to take you. You were more than thrown off guard when you were handed a menu and at the top of the cocktail list was your name. ‘An extra special, one day only concoction” was the description, no price listed. “Well what’ll it be?” Husk didn’t make eye contact, but his smirk and wagging tail made it crystal clear he was behind the new drink. “I think I have to try the one day only cocktail, it’s got my name on it after all…”, you looked at the bartender and Husk tapped the bar twice. Husk slid the napkin under the drink as it was set before you, a handwritten “Happy Birthday” across the red paper.

🩶Vaggie🩶

The cursing in Spanish was all Vaggie left available for you to figure out what was going on. It was food related, given she had banned you from the kitchen. But Vaggie wasn’t known to cook. This knowledge coupled with the swearing didn’t put you at ease. It was hell though, what were the chances you could get food poisoning when you were already dead? To your delight (and relief), she emerged with the ugliest cake you’d ever seen. “H-happy birthday, babe…,” she set it down in front of you, candles alight. “Handmade. Mostly.”

💙Vox💙

You knew it was love because he took off the entire day for you. Even his phone was set to vibrate. Which was a big deal for him. The most expensive restaurant, table by the window to see all of the Pride Ring. He clinked your glasses and toasted to you. And as you shared a large piece of cake, and looked out onto the city, you didn’t notice him staring at you with eyes of adoration when be said, “Happy birthday, darling.”

💜Valentino💜

Anything that wasn’t sexual or violent was a shocker from the tall moth overlord. But he had a third passion that didn’t involve blood or nudity. Not traditionally, anyway. A secret he only let a few see him indulge in. As he spun you around again and again to the live cumbia beats, he whispered the kinds of things only Val would think of mid-dance. But as the music ended and you leaned into him for a breather, his hands found your hips and pressed into you, “A very happy birthday, princesa.”

💖A much dirtier menu of hazbin stories💖

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #Alastor #husk #Vox #Valentino #Lucifer #Charlie Morningstar #Vaggie #Angel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #alastor smut

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some-pers0n · 1 year ago

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Part of the Process

Fandom: WoF

Characters: Morrowseer, Mastermind, Battlewinner

CW: Mentions of RainWing torment and torturing (what fun!!)

Summary: Mastermind's just finished up with some work on a project, so he's dragged along Morrowseer to present to Queen Battlewinner.

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: Oh. Ohoho. Did you think that one post I made about wanting Mastermind to be silly was a one-off thing? How wacky! I miss writing silly characters in WoF so much. Mastermind is very near and dear to me for no reason because I'm completely altered his personality now. He's such a jerk (I love him). I want to rewrite his introduction scene in TDS as well...

It was a rarity nowadays for Morrowseer to drop by and visit Queen Battlewinner. One may chalk it up to how it was quite difficult to get her to speak, considering how she's been submerged in the same vat of lava for decades now, but Morrowseer found himself...busier these days. Between having to assist Nautilus with the Talons of Peace and joining hunting parties to feed the starving populous, it's been a lot. He almost envied his queen. All she had to do was sit there in a pool of molten rock and spout vague three-word orders from time to time.

Regardless, envy is for those who aren't strong enough to do better, and Morrowseer was no weak dragon. The Dragonet Prophecy plan was working. Word from the guardians told them that their precious harbingers of peace were healthy. The stern and haughty rambles from Kestrel about their physical training were a bit much though. That dragon got on his nerves a lot. Thank the moons he had the idea of shoving her into a cave for all of time.

However, the false prophecy was the only part of this plan. No, their grand return to the continent would include an invasion. While the others tried to downplay it, calling it a "takeover" or an "occupying space", there was no question that they were planning for battle.

They were going to take the Rainforest Kingdom for themselves.

The tunnels that the betraying animus made for them once upon a time showed Morrowseer how much they suffered. While the NightWings rotted and withered away from disease and hunger, the RainWings carelessly played with their food. They had enough fruit to spare the wildlife! They would laugh and dance in the treetops and breathe in their fresh, luscious air. Sometimes when life grew too stressful, Morrowseer would risk everything to stand at the edge of the tunnels and breathe in that blissful, glorious air of the tropical forest.

He needed it. The whole tribe needed it. They deserved it after thousands of years of suffering and torture on this decaying island.

But, they needed a plan. RainWings are unfortunately annoying to handle. While the rest of the continent forgot, the NightWings remembered the days when they were feared. When the rainforest dragons would be used as monsters to scare the dragonets, for their deathly venom and ability to disappear into the shadows were their greatest strength. It would be foolish to go running into their domain, even if they've been reduced to half-minded pacifists.

Yet, they figured out a solution. What was it? Well-

"Uhh, excuse me, Morrowseer?" a tenor voice rang in his ears. Morrowseer could feel his associate tapping his scales impatiently. "Are you done brooding by any chance? You've been staring at the entrance for ages. I haven't got all day."

His eyes glanced over to see a smaller NightWing standing beside him. His round glasses sat crooked on his snout, enlarging his dark green eyes. He fidgeted with his scrolls and blueprints in his claws, scowling.

"I suppose I am. Thank you for interrupting me."

"You're very welcome!" It was hard to tell if he picked up on Morrowseer's sarcastic quip or not. "Now then, let's move on. I need to get back to my work."

"Your work," Morrowseer said. "Your work involves you staring at dragons trapped in cages. You do not ever leave your lab unless I drag you out. Half the time when I come and check in on you, you are just sitting there and laughing to yourself while writing incomprehensible notes."

"Research! All research! Trust me, the scholars of the mainland would kill for what I've learned about these dragons. It's all a part of the process."

"Including having a RainWing run on a treadmill for nine hours while threatening to kill them if they don't?"

"That is precisely it, my friend," he said with a smile.

Morrowseer felt his joints stiffen from that mere sentence. He didn't care to be called a friend by this dragon. Their relationship was more one of...forced compliance. Mastermind on the other talon believed it to be more friendly than it truly was. Only natural. Morrowseer is the only dragon who talks to him.

"Now, let's move on. I don't want to be kept waiting. Time is valuable. A minute wasted is a minute you'll never get back."

"You can wait, Mastermind. It wouldn't kill you to learn the value of patience." He unpinned a corner of the map before then, lifting it up. Behind it was not a rock wall, but a tunnel large enough for both of them to comfortably fit through.

"Out of the way." He pushed past Morrowseer, scampering into the tunnel. Irritation flared up in him and he was ready to speak, but he swallowed his words. Anything he said would turn into an argument. Mastermind could never possibly be wrong or inconsiderate.

He trailed after him. As they continued, their pathway only grew smaller and smaller. Finally, a sharp curve. Mastermind trotted over to it, his talons clicking against the floor. "Finally! Took us long enough."

It was a large and spacious room made of marble, streaks of obsidian black flowing through it. It was unbearably hot, with half of the room being floor and the other half being a massive pool of lava.

"I trust you told Battlewinner that we would be here by now."

"I did tell our queen that, yes." He checked Mastermind in the side. "Show some respect for her as well."

He scoffed. "If it makes you happy."

"It's so that you don't end up dead. I wouldn't go around insulting the flaming dragon that can drag you into your scorching and agonizing death."

"Eh, whatever. I don't care." He shrugged. "Besides, she knows I'm the most valuable dragon on this island. Without me, the whole operation would fail."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" He snorted.

"It's true though, you simply don't want to admit that you're not the only one with some power here." He straightened his neck, trying to look as tall as possible.

"Bold words coming from you." Morrowseer snapped. "If you had any sense of decency, you'd know when to shut your trap-" Before he could finish his sentence, the sound of rumbling and bubbling came before them.

The lava twisted and shifted before a pair of claws shot out of it, grabbing onto the ledge. The lava splattered and sprayed, some coming dangerously close to Morrowseer. Moments later, the head of a large NightWing breached the surface, steam and smoke pouring from every scale. She opened her mouth, frigid cold air fuming out. Then, her eyes opened. A dark black with a piercing blue glow that could only be described as the embodiment of frost.

"Ah, pleased to see you, my queen." Mastermind dramatically bowed, shooting Morrowseer a cocky look upon uttering those words.

"Enough with that..." Battlewinner hissed, her voice rough and scratchy, like the bellows of a horn before battle.

He blinked. "Hm, as you wish. Whatever happened to politeness and greeting your queen? To valour and respect and treating your ruler with-"

"Enough!" Battlewinner snarled, her claws scraping the floor. "I grow tired of your voice very...very quickly, scholar..."

"It would be more accurate to call me a scientist, but regardless-" He smirked, "-at least I'm the one who showed honour and respect to our glorious queen."

"Queen Battlewinner does not and should not feel obligated to give you any more attention than you deserve, especially over something as idiotic as bowing and spewing empty praises. If you want to find someone who'll listen to you spout nonsense and arrogance, you should look for the dragon you see when staring into a mirror; they're the only one who can stand to be around you," Morrowseer said.

"Is that what you really think of me? Eugh, to think I have to work with you..."

"Yes, how terrible for you."

"Silence!" Battlewinner growled. "Both of you..." Her eyes turned towards Mastermind, her head following suit. "Explain yourself... What news have you brought before me?"

"Finally! I have been preparing this all week. I believe you'll finally come around to appreciate the work I've done to support our plan."

"My plan." Morrowseer corrected. "Or rather the plan Queen Battlewinner and I made. You have no part in this. Don't pretend you're some great contributor, for your own sake."

The corners of Mastermind's mouth tightened. "Oh, please." He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I've drawn up a plan. I would've brought more to show, but none of the RainWings felt like accompanying me. They just sat there dejectedly or tried to claw my eyes out, screaming obscenities and madness." He giggled. "Ah, what fun!"

"Make it quick..." Battlewinner rasped. "I don't have all day..."

Mastermind exhaled. "Fine. I can make do with that." He pulled out some scrollpaper, clearing his throat. "So, I've been experimenting a bit. I recall our previous conversation. You told me that you wanted a way to join us on land. Reasonable to want to walk amongst your citizens on the land you've fought so hard to rightfully claim. However, due to your- ahem- situation, it's a bit difficult to do so. I've spent weeks and weeks of countless nights, having to listen to the perpetual wailing of those RainWings. Do you know what it's like? It's enjoyable in the daytime, but at night it's quite annoying-"

"I said make it quick."

He snorted. "Alright. Fine." He presented the paper to Battlewinner. "I've been drafting a suit of armour. A light enough design for you to comfortably walk around in, but with enough space between the plates for one to pour fresh lava to keep you from dying." He pushed up his glasses. "Enough of an explanation to hold you over?"

Battlewinner stayed quiet for a second. "...you're certain it wouldn't kill me?.."

"Oh, definitely. I mean, what kind of royal scientist would I be? To kill my own queen by tricking her?" He laughed, pushing Morrowseer in the side. "Funny, isn't it?"

"The idea of you murdering our tribe's queen isn't exactly what I would call 'humour'."

"No fun. Neither of you. Don't know how to take a joke." He looked towards his queen, who was submerged in boiling hot lava and glaring at him with murderous intent. "But, back to the topic. I'm still working out some of the kinks in order to get a proper design that won't let the lava bleed through and kill you, but the idea is solid enough. Lava is extremely dense. By my calculations, it's practically three times more dense than water. There should be enough room between the plates and your scales for as much lava as is necessary to keep you alive as well as to let you move around freely. Perhaps even fly! Although, it'll take quite a lot of testing."

"How long will this take?..."

"Well, let's see." Mastermind held his talons to his chin. "Combined with the materials and...no, carry the fourteen...adding on that I'm dying of seven afflictions...hm, yes! My prediction is that I will complete a prototype version in less than two weeks."

"I need a better answer than that, scholar..." she grumbled. "I need a final product. I need it now. I need armour to protect me from venom. I need to walk among my dragons once more. I need to lead them into battle and take what's OURS-" Battlewinner cut herself off, going into a coughing fit. She quickly submerged under the lava once more.

"Uhh...she alright?"

"Yes. She tends to get...ramped up. It speeds up the process of the frostbreath. Too much and she needs to warm her body once again."

"Oh, thank the moons. I believed she was furious at me."

"She definitely is annoyed by you."

"Hm. Don't care though." He shrugged. "This is who I am. If anybody doesn't fit it appealing, it's their issue."

"Yes, it really is our issue that you go around talking like an idiot with no self-awareness or humility." Morrowseer glanced at him. "When was the last time you had a dragon nearly kill you? Remind me again. I think it's been far too long since the last time someone had put you in your place."

Mastermind chuckled. "I didn't know you were capable of such bold words! Ah, but I do understand. The wisest dragons shouldn't need to bother themselves with such brutality though. It's much...simpler, fighting and war. Doesn't require half a brain to use your fire and claws. It must be why you're in charge of that department."

"You..." Morrowseer's claws tensed. Before he could get another word out, Battlewinner came rising from the lava once more.

"I accept your proposal, Mastermind..." she said. "I expect you to show me progress soon..." Without saying anything else, she dipped back into the pool.

"She said yes! Aha!! I knew she would!" He laughed. "It's truly a fool-proof plan. I would start to question the leadership and intelligence of her if she had refused." He turned around. "Now! I must return to my lab. I have a suit of armour to build. Finally, something other to do other than poke and prod the RainWings. It's invigorating, but tiring after a while, no?"

"Yes, it gets exhausting to watch the torment of a dragon."

"It does! You get it."

"I was being sarcastic."

"...oh."

#wings of fire #wof #somepersonswriting #mastermind wof #morrowseer wof #battlewinner wof #wof fanfic #SP-writing

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alligatorjesie · 1 year ago

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Man. You’re right @driversfavtwink , I should go outside and touch some grass.

Hey wait a minute.

I’m already outside.

This reminds me of that time I made a whole post involving an anti and how instead of telling people in this fandom to kill themselves, a thing they had done repeatedly in the past, how to go outside and touch exactly the right type of grass and to spend some fucking time doing that instead of what they were actively doing,

Which was telling people in my fandom to kill themselves.

youtube

You don’t even fucking understand just how much grass I regularly touch just to deal with anti shitwads.

And you know what this anti told me after I took all that time to record them a personalized video with extraordinarily detailed explanations on how to take care of this incredibly invasive plant?

because that’s fucking normal.

Let’s not forget how a few years ago a furry convention I go to every year was chlorine bombed by a nazi fur who was disgruntled when con staff told them we don’t allow nazis into the fucking con.

A very real thing that happened to me and over 7,000 other furries in the middle of the night in winter in Chicago.

Then a few weeks ago I counter protested with the same invasive plant info at a drag show in an attempt to block visibility to a death cult church who regularly pickets any pride events in my town like our own personal westboro baptist church.

They spent the evening telling me and everyone there how we was all gonna burn in a lake of fire.

This is were they set up and spent the next 5ish hours death proselytize a drag show.

Unlike @miguelsdumbass, I actually don't mind people knowing I'm a real person doing real things like the person I say I fucking am.

I'm not asking a child to show me proof of who the are by the way. They can tell me there the queen of fucking France for all the fucks I don't give. I just want them to fix their fucking tags and get the fuck out of this fandom space. It's the first thing I said to this chucklefuck and it'll be the last fucking thing I ever say to them.

You know, it just seems like hateful people keep encroaching on the spaces I should be safe in but for some reason assholes like you seem to think I'm overreacting when all I'm fucking doing is telling them to Leave if they hate it so much. I don't want 'em here, and the entire fucking fandom/drag show/pride event/convention don't want this hateful shit either.

It seems like I'm having a lot of trouble just going into spaces that were designated for us being interrupted by assholes who can't read the fucking room.

I’m noticing a pattern is all I’m saying.

@Miguelsdumbass here isn’t even the worst one. They’re just a child and really fucking stupid.

Which by the way @miguel-o-haras-rp, whats it like living a total lie? I remember when I was your age I lied about working for disney’s animation studios. And people fucking believed me.

The internet and fun and full of stupid people.

@miguel-o-haras-rp is not Jewish because this wasn’t even a thing on their bio until I dared to bring up nazis and that’s all this pee brained moron could think up when being compared to the same group of people who regularly tell me and my friends to kill themselves, which antis do. Telling a whole group of people they should eat shit and die for participating in a thing, that’s some nazi shit you know? The trans thing is new by the way @miguel-o-haras-rp, what argument lead to this one? Are you gonna identify as an attack helicopter next? Who knows what new personality you’ll invent in the coming weeks. A better one we can only fucking hope.

Not until you finally figure out the horrible history of antis and abhorrent anti behavior that's for fucking sure.

Antis, which shitass here openly says they’re a member of;

have been telling people to kill themselves since fucking time immemorial.

‘Anti’ is a new term but the act of being one isn’t fucking new.

nazis are anti Jewish.

Straight white conservatives are anti anything that ain’t a straight white conservatives.

@miguel-o-haras-rp is anti using common sense genetics to realize multiracial people can look multiracial.

I’ve been around the block. I know hateful people when I see them. The fact you’re defending this person says more about you than me @driversfavtwink.

I do see the irony in being told by a Adam Driver superfan, historically really fucking weird people into some weird shit but whatever you do you boo I ain't a part of that drama, are more normal than the reylos who are just enjoy a fictional canon vanilla fandom and ship, but go fucking off I guess.

I ain't never doxxed anyone. But I know a few adam driver superfans who have.

Daivers are the weird fucking people who obsessively ship Daisy and Adam, the real people and not their fictional Star Wars characters, are not to be confused with "Reylos".

We are not the same fucking thing.

No one is white washing a half white character by stating the half white character looks a little white.

Ya'll are real fucking stupid.

Also:

Antis ain’t your fucking friend.

Antis are fucking scum who tell people the most horrible shit. They’re not any fucking better than that church who pickets my local pride events or that nazi who chlorine bombed a bunch of furries because we didn't like his shitass racist opinions.

and they’re not any fucking better than real nazis, a group of people so passionately hateful they just went straight to killin’ the thing they hated.

I can and will make that comparison because

much like how nazis kept actually killing Jewish people, antis keep telling me and mine to fucking die in just about every group I'm in.

Not just in the reylo fandom, but in the furry fandom, and in the LGBTQ community too.

And that's some nazi shit and it's getting really fucking old.

And if you’re gonna act like one you can leave too shitass, fuck

#anti talk #fandom wank #anti bullshit #anti anti #proship #salt #fandom discourse #purity culture #death threats

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alligatorjesie · 1 year ago

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That's cool I'll copy paste that post here:

Man. You’re right @driversfavtwink , I should go outside and touch some grass.

Hey wait a minute.

I’m already outside.

Which was telling people in my fandom to kill themselves.

youtube

You don’t even fucking understand just how much grass I regularly touch just to deal with anti shitwads.

And you know what this anti told me after I took all that time to record them a personalized video with extraordinarily detailed explanations on how to take care of this incredibly invasive plant?

because that’s fucking normal.

A very real thing that happened to me and over 7,000 other furries in the middle of the night in winter in Chicago.

They spent the evening telling me and everyone there how we was all gonna burn in a lake of fire.

This is were they set up and spent the next 5ish hours death proselytize a drag show.

Unlike @miguelsdumbass, I actually don't mind people knowing I'm a real person doing real things like the person I say I fucking am.

It seems like I'm having a lot of trouble just going into spaces that were designated for us being interrupted by assholes who can't read the fucking room.

I’m noticing a pattern is all I’m saying.

@Miguelsdumbass here isn’t even the worst one. They’re just a child and really fucking stupid.

Which by the way @miguel-o-haras-rp, whats it like living a total lie? I remember when I was your age I lied about working for disney’s animation studios. And people fucking believed me.

The internet and fun and full of stupid people.

Not until you finally figure out the horrible history of antis and abhorrent anti behavior that's for fucking sure.

Antis, which shitass here openly says they’re a member of;

have been telling people to kill themselves since fucking time immemorial.

‘Anti’ is a new term but the act of being one isn’t fucking new.

nazis are anti Jewish.

Straight white conservatives are anti anything that ain’t a straight white conservatives.

@miguel-o-haras-rp is anti using common sense genetics to realize multiracial people can look multiracial.

I’ve been around the block. I know hateful people when I see them. The fact you’re defending this person says more about you than me @driversfavtwink.

I ain't never doxxed anyone. But I know a few adam driver superfans who have.

Daivers are the weird fucking people who obsessively ship Daisy and Adam, the real people and not their fictional Star Wars characters, are not to be confused with "Reylos".

We are not the same fucking thing.

No one is white washing a half white character by stating the half white character looks a little white.

Ya'll are real fucking stupid.

Also:

Antis ain’t your fucking friend.

and they’re not any fucking better than real nazis, a group of people so passionately hateful they just went straight to killin’ the thing they hated.

I can and will make that comparison because

much like how nazis kept actually killing Jewish people, antis keep telling me and mine to fucking die in just about every group I'm in.

Not just in the reylo fandom, but in the furry fandom, and in the LGBTQ community too.

And that's some nazi shit and it's getting really fucking old.

And if you’re gonna act like one you can leave too shitass, fuck

You know this sounds kinda mean because generally I don't condone the kinda hate I've received on anyone but I hope you have to deal with the same amount of hate I have over the long years from the same jackass your defending.

from the reylo ship

from the furry fandom

from being a member of the LGBTQ community.

I hope you live long and suffer.

@alligatorjesie GO OUTSIDE…. FURTHER BRO… YOU MADE AN ENTIRE POST FOR AN INTERNET ARGUMENT OVER A FICTIONAL SHIP… PEOPLE CAN NOT LIKE THINGS YKNOW??? also nobody cares if your furry group got harassed my guy, it’s not our problem and you can make a post about the situation instead of using it as a excuse for your actions. Reported your post and all of your comments and please don’t harrass op ever again.

#Youtube

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intern-seraph · 2 years ago

Text

yoinking this from my twitter and polishing it a little but anyways have some uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

TWST BOYS + WALKING IN ON YOU SINGING AND DANCING TO A SONG FROM OUR WORLD

- Ace tries to pretend to be above dancing and singing in the kitchen but he doesn't actually put up much of a fight if you grab him to dance together.

- Deuce is embarrassed but... it's a LITTLE cute, and he doesn't really. dance. but like.... I mean....... if you ASK...

- Cater is all-in on this. No clue what song this is, but he’s DEFINITELY pulling out his phone and filming the both of you dancing on Magicam.

- Trey has probably seen his fair share of impromptu singing and dancing from his siblings, but that doesn’t make this little show any less cute! You won’t mind if he takes a little photo, right?

- Is there a rule against this? Riddle is silently going through all 800+ of the Queen’s laws to make sure it’s not Off with your head! He’d hate to interrupt you... but maybe the rules can be bent this one time if necessary.

- Oh, Jack is frozen stiff as he watches you. It’s not like he has a soft spot for you or anything! It’s just... really charming! And if his tail starts wagging when you drag him over to dance with you, that doesn’t mean anything, he swears!

- Aww! This kinda reminds Ruggie of some of the kids back home. You’re just as cute, and he’d love to hear more of these songs you’ve got. Buuut, he‘s not above teasing you for being caught in the act. Maybe he’ll join you sometime, if you give him some snacks in return, of course.

- Leona sees you and immediately goes “Fucking herbivores...” But you’re not letting him go that easily! Grab him under the arms and drag him over to dance with you! “HEY HEY I DON'T DANCE —!” He might make himself dead weight but it’s worth every ridiculous second.

- Floyd also joins in instantly. He looooves dancing, and Shrimpy looks SOOOO cute, how could he not join you?!

- Jade is content to watch you with that unsettling, way-too-toothy grin of his. He might have snapped a few photos. Perhaps got a short video. He’ll never tell. It’s all for his eyes, and his alone.

- The moment Azul catches you, it’s a toss-up. If you’re a decent singer/dancer, he’s probably already cooking up some sort of scheme for special dinner shows at the Mostro Lounge. If you’re... not great... he just watches, cringing sometimes but otherwise thoroughly amused. No, he won’t join you, he’s perfectly happy just watching, thank you very much.

- If you’re taking up space in the kitchen, expect Jamil to shoo you out so he can start prepping food. He’s probably a little annoyed, but he does enjoy dancing. Sooo... he might just join in if you’re not being too much of a bother. Don’t comment on his blush or grin, no matter how cute he looks!

- Kalim absolutely positively cannot resist joining you! You’re having so much fun! He LOVES fun! Do you want to dance more together?! YOU SHOULD HAVE A DANCE PARTY —

- Epel has been to his fair share of informal dances in his hometown, but nothing with people his age. Vil’s compulsory dance lessons don’t count, either. He’s just rooted in place, watching your unfamiliar dancing and singing, trying to commit everything to memory. Pull him in, tell him to just do what feels right. He’ll figure it out.

- Rook is HERE FOR THIS. YOU LOOK PERFECT. FULL MARKS. “Quelle beauté !” How could he resist your undeniable charms?! Your ZEST? YOUR PASSION?!

- Depending on how good you are at singing and/or dancing, Vil is either pleasantly surprised by the impromptu show... or horribly embarrassed to be in the same room as you. You will be getting further lessons either way, like it or not. He sees some potential in you.

- Oh god. Oh fuck. Idia is not prepared for this. Full deer-in-headlights panic mode. This is, like, the exact kinda thing he sees in all his shows and comics and dating sims. But that’s fictional. This is real. Maybe if he doesn’t make eye contact you won’t notice him, and he can pretend this is all fake? How the hell is he supposed to react to this?!

- Ortho is a sweet and wonderful baby and he is zooming in to dance with you the second he sees you because he LOVES it and he’s already plotting ways to get Idia in on the next dance sesh.

- Sebek is torn. He can’t stop staring. Don’t you have anything better to do?! You’re distracting him from his VERY important duties as Malleus’ retainer! Well... no, he’s not working right now. And you’ve done all your classwork... and dancing... is good exercise... he supposes... Fine, human. He’ll indulge you. Just this once!

- Silver is pleasantly surprised. He doesn’t have a very strong reaction either way, although his cheeks might be a little pink, and he’ll let you pull him around in a dance if you want, but if he falls asleep on you... well! You should have expected that!

- Ohhh, Lilia loves this! Humans are so charming, aren’t they? He loves this kind of spontaneity! He’ll dance with you, maybe add a few of his disconcerting metal screams. Be ready to tell him everything about that song when you’re done!

- Malleus is utterly charmed by your little performance. His Child of Man is so cute... it makes his heart race. He’d like to keep you like this, suspended in this moment in time so he can watch you skip and hum and dance over and over again. One day, maybe. For now, he’ll covet this memory like any other treasure in his hoard.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst hcs #fluff #my writing #seraph speaks #im obsessed w this scenario can u tell #i'm also more familiar with some characters than others. can u tell.

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blackwidow-bby · 3 years ago

Text

Positions - Marvel Ladies x Fem!Sub!Reader

Summary: You're a sex worker and you've been hired by a new client for a "group activity".

genre: smut(18+)

pairings: Maria Hill x fem!reader, Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader, Carol Danvers x fem!reader, Yelena Belova x fem!reader

warnings: D/S dynamics, face slapping, spanking, strap on use, degradation, orgy, big ole lesbian train, oral, throat f*cking, name calling, degradation, thigh riding, fingering

AN: I am...well not a pro at writing dirty things especially not with multiple people but I hope you all enjoy regardless!

I don't own any marvel characters!!

Your assistant had just called you into her room. Your week had been slow but fruitful. Normally, it would be a regular client for the month, nothing to sweat over. Your thoughts started to run over who it could be. Maybe Mr. Dean, he usually calls on a Friday but you could've sworn you saw him two weeks ago. That didn't leave a lot of your regulars left to be requesting you as you knew their schedules like the back of your hand.

As if she could read your mind upon entering her space, she spoke, "Y/N, you have a call for a new client. Something about a friend requesting your services? The only thing is..." She hesitated almost thinking if she should tell you the rest of the details before she proceeded. "Well, it's for a group. You don't have to take up the offer if you're uncomfortable with that. I can call her back and let her know you declined."

To tell the truth, the thought of it being a group of strangers did make you uncomfortable, but your assistant wouldn't put you into a situation without going through the proper protocols first. She knew a head count of how many, roughly where they all worked, and several phone numbers. It always helped to be extra safe in these situations where you could be overpowered.

"Who inquired?" you asked interestedly. "She goes by N.R., gave me a headcount of all of her friends that would be attending. There's not going to be any men there, but I guess 'more power in numbers' is still 'more power in numbers'." In all honesty, women gave you way less shit about certain things than men did. Hopefully they'd be way more understanding if you didn't want to do specific activities.

"Call her back and tell her I'll take the offer. Do you know how much she's paying?" Your assistant slid a little sticky note over to you as she dialed the number of one 'N.R.'. You swear you almost choked when you saw how much she offered for you. That was a lot of zeros compared to usual. You walked away to get a water from the mini-fridge while you vaguely listened in to your assistant's phone conversation.

Good.

Perfect.

Okay, I'll tell her to meet you there at 6:30.

Extra clothes, yes ma'am. Have a nice day.

"Hey Y/N, I've written down the address, floor, and room number. It's uh...a really high end hotel in New York City. She also said to bring an extra change of--" you interrupted her, "Extra clothes? I overheard." you started wondering what for? Dinner? Go out? "Uhm, yes, she said extra comfy clothes." Comfy? Was she expecting you to spend the night? You looked down at your watch to see how much time you had to get ready. 2 hours. It wasn't enough but you could make it work. "Alright then, I should go freshen up."

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

An hour and a half later had found you briskly walking toward the extremely tall and very expensive looking hotel in the Upper East Side. You lived in Queens and while the distance wasn't very far, paired with the traffic, the feeling of unsettlement about being late to such a client was enough to make you almost hurl.

You made your way inside the lobby, barely looking at your surroundings. You wanted to get up to the room as quickly as possible without being noticed. "Excuse me," Could you ever be so lucky? "Are you here for Ms. Romanoff?" Who? That must be your clients last name. "She said she was expecting a guest soon." The lady was being extra kind to you, she had an inviting smile. You almost wanted to never lie to her. "Yes, I'm here to see Ms. Romanoff." you replied quietly. It felt like your voice would echo too hard around the warmly lit lobby. You thought it would break you to hear your own voice shrill around such a pristine room.

"Very well, I'll show you to her room." Your nerves began to spike more the higher up you went. It was as if every floor number on the elevator was the level of anxiety you started to feel. Your palms were sweating and you could've sworn your back was too. The lady just kept her eyes forward with a meek little smile. It took every fiber of your body to not explode your feelings all over that elevator.

Ding

The elevator stopped, of course she was in a penthouse suite. You rolled your eyes as how predictable this situation was playing out. The kind lady, who's name you definitely forgot to get, remained in the elevator as you walked out. "There's a number for room service if you ladies need anything." She sung out. "Thank you."

The walk to her door seemed to never end. Your feet were dragging like gravity was doing everything in its power to keep them on the ground. The air was getting hotter as time slowed in the short distance it took to reach her door. You rang the little buzzer and a melodic voice called beyond the frame.

"Coming!"

You could hear the light patter of a single set of feet. The knob then turned and revealed a stunning short redhead with bright eyes. You were certainly gawking at the sight of her but there was nothing you could do to pull your own attention away. She had a smirk on her face when she saw you staring but not saying anything. "You must be Y/N, it's very nice to meet you. Come in and lets get you introduced to everyone."

She reached out her hand to you and you took it gently. her palms were much colder than yours and her fingers were long and slender. her hair was shoulder length and fire-y. The room was massive, and clean. She had all of the blinds closed to keep any natural light and eyes from entering the den. Scanning the room some more you noticed a couple items around the room. Non-traditional furniture. It was going to be one of those events. There were also four other heads aside from the host's. She turned around once reaching the main room and faced you. "My name is Natasha, over there is Wanda," another read-head standing behind everyone else with a glass of wine in her hands, she lightly nodded, "...that is Carol in the middle," a blonde woman with a bright and bubbly smile. She seemed taller than the rest but she was also sitting down on a piece of equipment that will no doubt be used in a different way by you. Natasha gestured to a brunette, "...this is Maria," another tall and slender woman, didn't offer a smile but a simple wave to your direction. You were scared of her the most. "...and this is Yelena." A second blonde who's face was much more stoic than Maria's. You take it back, she scared you the most.

Natasha's hand unhooked from yours and made its way up your back to settle on the back of your neck. The pads of her fingers added slight pressure to the muscles there as if she could feel all of your tension in waves. You felt her lean in closer, her hot breath fanning your ear. "There's a bathroom in the hall to the right. I got a cute little outfit waiting for you." You could feel her soft lips smiling against the curve of your ear. the feeling made you shiver. You managed to follow her eyes and swiftly walk to the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You looked around and found the outfit in question. It was sleek all black leather body suit with a halter neck. You lifted it up in your hands and rubbed the material under your fingers. Next to it sat a bottle of lubricant no doubt to get the body suit on. You got to work shedding the current clothes you had on and began to slide on the little leather number. It wasn't too tight but certainly snug against your frame. The only thing out of the ordinary besides the material was, you noticed, a tiny little zipper in between your legs. If unzipped would reveal your very private essence. The thought made you blush a little to yourself. After cleaning up, you made your way back to the room where the women had sat prior.

Since you calmed down a little, you took the opportunity to fully take in your surroundings. The hall was adorned in art more than likely as expensive as this room. Everything seemed darker than when you arrived. To your surprise when you entered the living room area, the room lighting was red as opposed to the normal LED lighting.

Natasha held her hand out to you again for you to take. You obliged her and she pulled you close into her side. Natasha's deft fingers traveled up and down your ribs before finding purchase on your backside. "You look like the most delicious treat. None of us can wait to eat you. Would you like a drink before we start?"

The other women started moving closer almost circling you like sharks. "Yes please." Natasha poured you a glass as she went on, "We should go over some rules before we start. If at any point you feel overwhelmed, anxious, or hurt, the safe word is 'Heart'. We all stop what we're doing and will help you. If at any point you are gagged, two taps to the closest person will get all of us to cease as well. Because of those rules you will not be bound and gagged simultaneously...at least not this session." She ends her rules with a wink toward you. All of these women truly were stunning and it piqued your interest to know what they could possibly be capable of.

Wanda came closest to you first, she pulled the wine glass away from your lips and replaced it with her own lips. Holding your hand with the glass close to her chest and cupping your cheek with the other. Her lips were sinfully soft as was her kiss. She felt delicate and gentle against you, she almost seemed to not match any of this situation. Natasha took your wine glass away while you continued to make out with Wanda, who let her hands roam lower down your body. Your own hands moved behind her neck. Another set of arms wrapped around you from behind. "You're such a pretty kitten." They nibbled on your ear making you separate from Wanda to see who it was. Carol smiled down at you and found the very lips that left Wanda. You moaned into her mouth at feeling how she controlled and dominated the kiss, very different from Wanda's passion. Wanda moved down to kissing your neck and shoulder.

You could hear other giggles in the back. Natasha kept her eyes trained on you as Yelena and Maria began to touch each other in the mean time waiting for you. After a few minutes of watching her friends have all of the fun, Natasha made her way over to you, Carol, and Wanda. She pulled the other red-head back by her locks and pressed her lips to hers in a searing kiss. You heard Wanda moan out into the other woman's mouth next to you causing you to release your own into Carol. This made the blonde swiftly lift you up and wrap your legs around her waist. She brought you over to a nearby bench and kissed you harder. All of the sounds you were making began to rile her up.

"I'm not sure which one of us is more excited to have you here, pretty girl. All I know is I can't wait to ruin that pretty pussy of yours." You moaned at her words and yanked her back down into another kiss. Her words went straight to your core igniting a fire that had been waiting to burn. You made a mental note to find whoever recommended you to these ladies and thank them heavenly. Carol sunk her hips between your legs and began grinding against you seeking the friction she wanted so badly.

Even though the leather was a new material to you, you could still feel the faux member that rested in her pants; Carol was packing. This caused you to move your hands down to her pants to tear the buttons away. The tall blonde grabbed your hands and smirked, "Allow me." She stood to her full height and slowly removed the black jeans she was wearing and revealed her long, girthy strap she had been hiding. Your eyes widened which made Carol giggle. She sunk to her knees where she seductively pulled the zipper on your suit down. She held your eye contact until you saw them shift to behind you. Natasha and Wanda had pulled away long enough to see what Carol was doing and decided to join again. The two red-heads began to undress themselves where Natasha also sported a rather large strap but not Wanda.

In your distraction upon noticing the other women join in, Carol took to opportunity to shove he face into your pussy. You moaned out loud at the contact. Her tongue quickly lapping at your clit and sinking lower to curl inside you. Her ministrations were making you squirm on the bench. She reached up to hold your hips down. "Stay still kitten. Gotta get you ready for our cocks." Eating you out was an art to her. Every move she made, made you more and more wet. Natasha slid her fingers into your open mouth. You sucked on them harshly slipping your own tongue in-between her fingers and coating them in your saliva. Nat removed her fingers and started to rub them between Wanda's folds.

"Eat her out for me, malysh." Natasha requested. You looked up at Wanda as she slowly lowered herself over your wanting mouth. Your head went fuzzy upon seeing all of the quiet red-head's intimacy. Your tongue immediately poked out to welcome her to you. She let out a soft moan and slowly began to grind herself against your mouth. Carol was growing impatient watching you eat out the other woman and feeling you grow more aroused in her mouth. The blonde stood to position the tip at your entrance rubbing the head up and down your slit before she slammed her length in all at once. You yelped against Wanda's soaked cunt sending vibrations straight to her clit.

The whole scene was turning Natasha on more and more so she began stroking her own member, hoping to find some friction. The other two women walked over to join the rest of the group partially feeling left out. Carol continued to slam into you at a rather fast and rough pace. The tip of her strap hitting that blissful spot inside of you with every thrust. All of your moans and whines brought Wanda closer to her orgasm. She came hard in your mouth before she got up and was replaced by Natasha's own cock.

"Suck kotenok. Mommy's getting restless." Carol did not stop chasing not only her own high but yours. You could hear her grunting from below you. All of this attention was turning you on more than you think you've ever been in your life. Even though one hand wrapped around Natasha's strap and the other gripped Carol's wrist on your hips, you were finding it hard to keep blowing Nat. Carol moved her other hand down to your clit. "You better cum for me you little slut."

And you did; hard.

Carol continued her pace and upon watching you come undone, did so herself. Three quick thrusts and she was spent. She released the most guttural moan before her body was replaced by another blonde. Yelena had this look in her eyes like she wanted to make you pay for every wrong you never committed. She removed her clothing and sat right on your bent leg. At this point Natasha was fucking your mouth deeper and deeper. Needing to ground yourself you wrapped your hands around her thighs. Yelena began to rub herself against your thigh. You could feel how wet and warm she was, her hand sliding up and down your slit collecting your cum to rub your clit in tight circles. Your whines didn't stop especially when you were already beginning to feel another orgasm approaching. Yelena slipped her fingers inside you, finding your g-spot with accuracy. With every thrust of her fingers she hit that same spot over and over. tears started to run down your face with the feeling of Natasha in your mouth and Yelena in your core. Natasha gave one last thrust before she pulled out.

Maria shoved three of her fingers to the back of your throat. She giggled when you gagged around them. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at being finger fucked by the two women. "You're not allowed to cum before I do, else Natty here give you a nice punishment while I ride your face." Yelena only made the threat to turn you on more, but part of you was hoping it was true. It was hard, Yelena knew exactly what she was doing with her fingers but you could feel her slick slide down the sides of your thigh. God you hope she was close because you certainly were. Maria replaced her fingers with her lips and she kissed you hard sliding her tongue along yours. The brunette smiled against your lips when she felt your whimpers in her mouth. Yelena just kept slamming her fingers harder inside of you and rubbing herself quicker. Her breaths got faster and more shallow and as she came, a couple seconds later so did you. Your body shook with the most intense tremors, but Yelena couldn't fault you. She did cum before you, and something about it being in close tandem with hers turned her on a lot more than she would admit. You let out a soft whine when the coolness of the air hit your soaked thigh.

Maria left your mouth and moved between your legs. She put one leg over your left and the other under your right and brought your centers together. "You're a pretty little slut. I want to ruin you so bad." Maria started out ruthless. Her grinding was fast and hard as if she had been waiting to cum for weeks. You felt her in her entirety sliding against your own. The feeling started to overwhelm you. Carol took your face in her hand and rubbed her thumb along your bottom lip. "Open up you little slut."

You obeyed her and opened your mouth sticking your tongue out. At this point you were a blubbering mess and all the ladies were loving it. Carol spit into your mouth before shoving her cock in. "I saw you taking Nat like a pro, so I know you can take me." At least her pace wasn't rough but it certainly was quick. Your gags around Carol was making Maria closer to her release. She leaned forward to angle herself differently against you and put her hand around her throat. She could practically feel Carol's cock fucking your face. Sweat was running down your forehead and your hair clung to every part of your body it could touch. You were close to being spent and you never looked more beautiful this way. Maria's hand tightened, her grunts were heavy. "Such a good little fuck toy. I'm so close baby." You didn't think it was possible for Maria to go any harder but she did. She came with a loud cry and slowed her hips down to ride out her orgasm. You felt her wetness mix with yours. Maria's hand stayed for a couple more minutes, entranced by feeling Carol deep in your throat. The tall blonde slapped your face a couple times before she pulled out. You were too busy catching your breath, you didn't see Natasha move by your feet. She lifted you up and turned you over on your stomach with your legs and arms hanging off the bench. Just when you were hoping it was over, you forgot that Natasha never officially had her turn with you. She rested her strap on your lower back as she ran her cool hands in an attempt to soothe your burning skin. Almost mocking you for being the one to give you the final blow. Wanda walked up to you again. She ran her soft fingers in your hair and moved the stuck strands out of your face. Your breathing was heavy and your body was trembling. Wanda's fingers moved down to cup your jaw and she lifted your head. Tapping the side with her pointer finger, you got the silent request to open your mouth for her. In unison, as Wanda brought her cunt to your mouth, Natasha slid her strap inside you completely bottoming out. Nothing but incoherent noises left your mouth at being filled so sinfully. Wanda gripped your jaw harder as she rubbed her intimacy against your mouth for a second time. You lazily kept your tongue out to try your best to accommodate Wanda's wanting. Natasha on the other hand, had been waiting very patiently for her time and now that she got it she was going to make the best of it. She grabbed your hands in her own and pulled them behind your back to make it easier for her to pound deep into your cunt. When you felt her hit somehow deeper your eyes rolled back. Wanda picked up her pace just as Natasha did, both red-heads moving in perfect synch at opposite ends of your being. A jolt of paint hit your right asscheek igniting a new spark and effectively waking you up even if only for a minute. With every thrust administered, Natasha rained a hand alternating each side of your ass. All of this was sending more and more feelings to your core. You will not be lasting long if these two kept going the way they were. You could feel Wanda fumbling, she was about to come for the second time tonight. Natasha continued to get more rough inside of you until you felt the knot inside of you burst. You came hard around Natasha groaning against Wanda's own cunt. The sight caused Wanda herself to not be able to keep her composure and she came with a scream against your tongue. You felt her pussy pulsing with her orgasm on your mouth. As soon as Wanda backed away from your face, Nat yanked your arms back harder to push herself deeper than you thought was possible. You were screaming, a sweaty broken mess, absolutely spent in this five star hotel. Every thrust pushed harder against that spongey spot inside you. You could feel another earth shattering orgasm approach hoping it would be the last. Natasha's thrusting didn't let up, she was desperate to cum. She was moaning over you with every hit. You yelled her name as you came harder than you had before that whole session. Watching you absolutely spent around her

member, Natasha came just as hard with her final thrust. She stayed inside you to ride out the rest of her high before she carefully pulled out. Looking down she could see wetness all over the bench and her legs. Nat smiled to herself at being the one to make you squirt everywhere like a silent victory. Allowing you to lay and collect your bearings, the red-head began to clean up the room.

There wasn't much you could make out in your state, but you could partially hear Natasha thanking all of the women for coming over before hearing the door open and close through the ringing in your ears. Your were shaking, your whole body felt blissfully weak. The red-head padded over softly to your spent and soaked body and picked you up carefully to place you in her arms bridal style. Your mind was in a war with yourself between wanting just a little bit more or to just go to sleep. You couldn't even open your eyes at this point.

Natasha had brought you to the bathroom to help you clean up and as she moved about, she kept you in her arms. She made sure to hold you as she turned on the faucet and sit on the edge of the tub. As the water filled the tub, Nat moved between rubbing your back and gently caressing your cheek. Once the tub was filled up enough for the both of you, she picked you up again and cautiously lowered the both of you into the hot relaxing water. You couldn't do anything but mumble and cursed yourself for the state you were in even though it wasn't your fault. You desperately wanted to think your gracious host for a life changing night but nothing could come out. Natasha shushed you sweetly. Her time wasn't done until you were well taken care of in her company.

You don't know how long you were in the bathroom, hell you don't even know when you fell asleep as Natasha washed the night away from both of your bodies. Clearly still in no position to be able to make it back to your home, the red-head dried both of you off and brought you to the large bedroom. You had come back into partial consciousness long enough to feel the soft sheets and the plush comforter of this heavenly bed you were being gifted to rest on.

Natasha lowered you down and climbed on the other side before pulling you into her. She lifted your head to lay on her chest so she could easily hold you and play with your hair. She stayed awake until she heard your breathing even out again, signaling that you had fallen asleep again since the bath. She placed a soft kiss to your hairline before succumbing to sleep herself with a blissed smile on her face.

She'd definitely be requesting you again.

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AN: Not sure how I feel about this but yeah this is my wack attempt at something extra dirty.

#natasha romanoff x reader #maria hill x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #Carol danvers x reader #yelena belova x reader #reader insert #my fic #multi character x reader #fem!reader insert

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djarinsbeskar · 4 years ago

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PREQUEL ARC: PART 2 - THE HOUK

A/N: Part 2 is here! First and foremost, can I just say thank you so much for the reception Part 1 received and to those who (gasps!) actually want me to tag them for updates??? I don’t know how to react??? I’m so touched??????? It’s so motivating and has reminded me why I love sharing my scribbles!

There’s a greater focus on world/character building in this chapter so if it feels a bit rambling or description heavy, I do apologise! Like I said, I’m trying to build some context to the reader-insert before we get to the smut, and I hope that I’ve kept her general enough that she doesn’t cross the line too much into OC territory and becomes unrelatable. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! My style of writing leaves much to be desired so I would love to know if something doesn’t make sense so I can improve and fix it. But enough of that, on with the show!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language and slight injury detail.

Plot: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

8 ABY, Mynock, Dandoran.

The second time you met him, he had dislocated his shoulder after a nasty clash with a Houk.

Your dealing with the Mandalorian on Klatooine had moved to the back of your mind and you rarely, if ever, thought about it. It was merely another encounter with a rough character that needed some medical attention. You wouldn’t have been able to hazard a guess at how many similar characters you saw in a week while you worked at the clinic. Even more so when you’d left Klatooine after becoming disillusioned that the New Republic were actually trying to make a difference.

You had heard stories from the Core and Mid Rim planets. Stories of the investment and progress being made to rebuild after the tyranny of the Empire, of the billions of credits being poured into the development of new ship building centers on Corellia and large, extravagant residencies for government members on Coruscant. Things, you were sure, that were not actually urgent necessities as they were desires. Especially given that the funds you received from that same government to sustain the clinic thinned before drying up completely a few months after your encounter with the Mandalorian.

…Hemorrhaging more credits than is justified for the benefits we’re seeing in return.

The busybody politician with a colorful title and even more colorful robes waxed poetically, hiding the sentiment of disinterest in ways only a politician could. Half-heartedly trying to distract you by his explanations with empty praise and gratitude for your service during the Rebellion and your humanitarian work now, a true embodiment of what the New Republic stands for. He crowed like the colorful bird he looked like, dressed as he was with fine feathers lining the lapels of his robes.

You bristle at the memory of the hologram’s eyes flickering to look at anything besides you, running down the time you had spent weeks trying to get.

That was when the memory of the Mandalorian surfaced, surprisingly. How the day after you treated him you arrived at the medical center and saw a familiar pouch of credits sitting innocently behind the check-in desk. When you enquired with the receptionist, she told you it was sitting there once she opened up earlier that morning. The only note left being on one of the datapads behind the desk, the scrawling font reading; to help with your work. You had let out a chuckle to yourself as you checked your schedule, wondering if the brutish male you had treated last night really was as cold as he portrayed himself to be.

The memory had incited a righteous anger that a bounty hunter was more willing to support a voluntary clinic than the government that set it up in the first place was.

I thought the Empire were the ones who put a credit limit on what a life is worth. You had hissed in return, interrupting what you were sure was a well-rehearsed and well used speech, before hanging up. You pressed the heel of your hands into your eyes, taking a shuddering breath as you tried not to be nihilistic in thinking that you had spent nearly half your life thinking you could make a difference, when, you were just serving the Empire in different clothing.

It wasn’t a fair comparison; you knew the New Republic was neither as cruel nor as tyrannical and oppressive as it’s predecessor, but you had been made so dreadfully aware that in places like the Outer Rim, people would always be overlooked by those in power because they simply didn’t offer enough to be worth looking at.

The realization was a raw wound to your soul. You had lost brothers and friends to the fight for liberation, but it didn’t seem as though the grass was much greener on the other side. Maybe elsewhere in the galaxy it was, but where you were needed most, the grass was dehydrated and dying under the relentless sun.

With the clinic penniless, your meagre pension from the Rebellion was not nearly enough to keep it functioning. Add to that the reluctance of the other medics to run the clinic alongside you out of their own pocket and the intergalactic beacon for medical aid that alerted anyone in the parsec of where to go being disengaged, traffic stopped. The native Klatooinians preferred their own healers and very rarely, if ever, sought out medics from the New Republic.

For the first time in your life, your path wasn’t clear. If you even had a path anymore.

That was how you found yourself on Dandoran, flying off a week after the last of the medics left Derelkann to the first planet that was habitable to humans. But by the Maker, it was even rougher than Klatooine. The temperate climate and lush greenery were more comfortable for you, but the city you found yourself in, Mynock, was to say the least, undesirable. Having once been Hutt Space, there were still several illegal operations active that kept the city going and you learned early on what areas to avoid and to always carry a blaster with you. But at least where there was activity, there was work for you.

***

You met Biran Sonter the very day you arrived, asking directions to the nearest medical facility, hoping they could use another medic. He was an elderly Mirialan male with a wealth of history behind him, his facial tattoos creased with deep wrinkles and a kindly smile that reminded you of your grandfather.

You were flabbergasted to learn that during the time of the Galactic Republic, he acted as the royal physician to the palace on Naboo.

As you choked on the tea he had kindly made for you at that revelation, you couldn’t ask him quickly enough how he ended up here? On an Outer Rim backwater skughole of a planet and his tale had been sobering. When the Republic first fell, anyone who did not immediately surrender to the rising Empire was terminated. Biran had, at the time, only heard word of the death of the beloved former Queen Amidala and blamed the Empire vehemently. Escaping on one of the last shuttles from the Mid Rim planet before legions of clones descended, he arrived on Dandoran where no one, not even the Hutts cared enough to notice him. All they knew, was that he was an excellent doctor who charged little for his services and kept to himself. That was good enough for them. While he treated a vast number of criminals ranging from thieves to bounty hunters, he was not wholly merciful. He somehow managed to avoid or talk his way out of treating anyone in the organized crime syndicates or known traffickers and killers. It may have gone against a physician’s code to do ones best to save every life, but he like many, made their own code in the Outer Rim.

You fell into a fast and easy friendship with the Mirialan after that, your similar histories of working in the medical field despite being decades apart giving you plenty to talk about. The practice Biran ran in Mynock was always busy and he was only too grateful when you offered to take the weight off his old shoulders and gradually, his clients began to expect to see you most of the day and Biran for a few hours in the early morning. You were never short on work between cantina brawls, accidents and the downright attacks that took place in Mynock and the next eighteen standard months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, Klatooine a distant memory, as was the Mandalorian you met there.

The night you saw him again, was no different to any other you spent enjoying a quiet drink before heading back to turn in for the night.

You had been in the process of leaving the cantina, recognizing that the later it grew, the rowdier and aggressive the clientele became. You could handle yourself as well as anyone who made their home in Hutt Space, but you knew better than to be blatantly reckless when you were on your own. It wasn’t like you had the squadron you stayed with throughout the Rebellion for backup as you once did, and your closest ally would probably break in half if you pushed him too hard. So no, you were not staying late with Mynocks newest resident of a Houk warlord and the company he seemed to attract.

The Houk in question was a cruel and belligerent brute, a former local warlord by the name of Gappo Teff. His reputation for inflicting punishment disproportionate to any slight committed against him or the Empire was one of the many echoes of the former imperial rule that was still being felt in the galaxy nearly three years after its collapse.

The stories of the chokehold he held over Sullust would make even a hardened soldier’s stomach churn. How he managed to escape the liberation of the planet without being dragged to the noxious surface of Sullust to suffer for the pain he had caused so many, was a mystery. But there he was, sitting like a king in the cantina you found yourself in, bellowing laughter ricocheting obnoxiously throughout the space, not a care in the world that he was a wanted felon.

It might have been to do with the fact that he was at least seven and a half foot tall, with a mass that could easily fit three of you side by side across him and still not be seen. It might have been to do with the cold, milky blue of his small eyes, sunk into a skull so large it could probably shatter ribs and rupture organs if one were to be headbutted with it. The last thing anyone wanted was those eyes focusing on them. It could have been the heavy artillery modified blaster he kept laying on his lap; the weapon more of a cannon for those of a more regular stature. Whatever the reason, very few bounty hunters and even fewer New Republic guards came to collect him. He was probably one of the most easily found quarries on all Guild registers and New Republic wanted lists and yet, he languished in Mynock as if the Empire had never fallen and his reign was still assured.

Making your way to the entrance, you came up short as someone walked in, your nose coming abruptly close to a reddish-brown durasteel chest-plate. Taking a step back, your eyes did a double take at the familiar unpainted beskar helmet. Subconsciously, you had stepped to the side, the Mandalorian continuing to walk without a word as if you hadn’t nearly walked into him. Mandalorians were a rare sight these days, so you could be forgiven for staring. Though, you were most likely staring for entirely different reasons compared to everyone else in the cantina.

The armor was the same, if not a bit more worn, as was the dark boiled woolen cape and pulse rifle strapped to his back. But it was the gait; how could someone walk both gracefully and arrogantly, almost cocky in his self-assurance that he was in control wherever he went. It explained why he was so determined not to let his injury be known by his walk the last time you saw him. Because you had seen him before, there was no doubt in your mind that this was the same irritable reek of a Mandalorian you met in Derelkann years ago.

He stood in the middle of the cantina, assessing the place as his helmet scanned the area. If you didn’t know any better, you say he was…

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You muttered to yourself when the helmet stopped on Teff. When you said bounty hunters didn’t bother to come after him, you should have been more specific. Smart bounty hunters didn’t bother hunting Gappo Teff, which explained why the one you knew of was right there looking for him.

A choice lay before you. Leave now and lock your doors until morning… or wait. For what, you couldn’t be sure. But if the Mandalorian wasn’t killed tonight by Teff, he was going to wish he was with the injuries he would probably sustain.

You let your head fall back on your shoulders as you exhaled. Why were you so soft for lost causes and wayward souls?

The Houks bodyguards left much to be desired, crumbling to the ground before they had even drawn their blasters, smoke rising from the blaster wounds inflicted effortlessly by Din.

The bodyguards weren’t what worried Din. Their boss hardly needed protecting, and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The groan and screech of the metal table being shoved away by Teff as he stood to his full height made Din grit his teeth, arms open as he boomed, “Ah Mando, I was wondering when you’d try your luck at me. Your reputation is becoming rather infamous throughout the parsec.”

A guttural, wet laugh left the purple skinned quarry as Din remained silent and kept his blaster aimed. Damn, but the piece of bantha crap was big. He quickly scanned his peripheral, but it seemed the residents of Mynock had more self-interest than to trade blaster fire over one warlord, the barkeep casually making his was into the backroom of the bar to keep out of harms way.

“Why don’t you hang up that Guild work and let me make you a better offer.” Teff boomed, taking a swing of his drink, streams of the yellow fluid running down the sides of him mouth as those frosty eyes stayed trained on the bounty hunter.

Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet; negotiations by the quarry were his least favorite reaction to being caught but he knew better than to think he had captured the colossal male yet. Until Teff was either dead or frozen in carbonite, he was a danger. Luckily, the orders were to bring him in dead or alive. Seems the New Republic were fed up with him still breathing. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

“No?” the Houk pushed when Din didn’t respond, “Too bad, you’d have made an excellent addition to my collection.” And with more speed than Din had anticipated from the large male, he charged.

You had the good sense to leave the cantina as soon as the first blaster shot was fired, pulling the hood of your dusty grey jacket over your head while you made your way back to the practice to gather a few things. Things that would be completely obsolete if he died but you wouldn’t think that far. You were a realist, not a pessimist. The Houk might have had the advantage of height and sheer strength, but the Mandalorian was quicker, possibly smarter, and decked with enough firepower to make a starfighter pilot drool.

So, you put the odds about sixty forty in favor of the Mandalorian. Not that you would ever tell him that.

Teff roared in anger as Din rolled out of the way again, shooting his grappling hook to latch onto the Houks shoulder and yanked hard enough to throw the male off balance. Despite his large size however, Teff was able to slide his foot back to catch himself, putting him in direct line with Din.

He was on his feet in no time as the Houk charged at him, lowering his head so that on contact, Din’s left shoulder was thrown back into the wall of the cantina. His breath left him as the impact winded him, a dull but growing pain throbbing from his shoulder before Teff’s vile breath permeated even his helmet and a large hand wrapped around Din’s throat. He could feel his feet leave the floor and the weight of his body pulling downward made the pressure on his windpipe all the heavier.

“Oh well, at least you tried.” Teff gloated, his head leaning closer as if to peer into the visor and that distraction was all Din needed to lift his hand and engage his flamethrower, engulfing the Houk in flames. Din gasped in a breath when he was dropped, the squeals of pain coming from Teff disconcerting as he staggered around the cantina, desperately looking for something to extinguish the inferno his clothing and more vulnerable tissue had become.

Din waited a few more measured breaths before lifting the blaster and shooting the quarry in the vulnerable side of the neck, satisfied with the resounding bang the body made as it fell to the ground, flames still burning bright until he picked up the half-drunk tankard on Teffs table to douse the fire lest he be completely unrecognizable upon delivery.

Din looked around, the cantina was empty; the silence suddenly deafening as he looked back down at the body.

Now, how to get him back to the Razor Crest.

Din sighed.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

You held up your hands unsurprised when the Mandalorian spun on the ramp of his ship, blaster raised and aimed right at you. He tilted his head slightly, taking you in and you tried not to fidget under the gaze you could feel raking over you despite not being able to see his eyes. What you could see though, was how limp his left arm was hanging to his side.

“The demon medic from Klatooine.” He muttered, finally placing your face and lowering his blaster slowly while you lowered your arms.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You snorted before nodding to his arm, “And you’ll probably be calling me a lot worse when I tell you that that arm needs tending to.”

He shifted slightly, turning his body so you wouldn’t be able to see. You just crossed your arms across your chest and stared at him pointedly. He held your gaze and was still as a statue. You could play the silence game too if that was how he wanted to do this. It was only a matter of time before one of you broke and you weren’t the one with a dislocated shoulder, so you’d say that the odds were in your favor.

It seemed like time dragged on before, without saying anything, the Mandalorian sighed and turned towards the ship.

You bit down on a smile, but you could still feel it creeping upon your lips as you congratulated yourself on winning. Two nil, you tallied in your head, not bad girl.

The ship… well the ship was a fossil and that was being generous. But it was clean and obviously well taken of, if the tidy hull was anything to go by.

Apart from the charred corpse lying in the middle of course, but those were just details. Easily overlooked. The smell however… that was a different story, but you held back any comments. You still couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to drag a fully grown Houk through the town one-handed, but then you knew that the strength and discipline of the Mandalorians was unrivalled. He could have done it through sheer determination and honestly, you were lucky to have found him at all. But people in Mynock liked to talk, so following the rumors' had let you there relatively easy.

A sigh broke your train of thought, “Let’s get this over with.”

The warrior seemed resigned to his fate as he stepped over the corpse and you followed suit, mind instantly running through the correct procedure and treatment.

“We have to get the bone in the upper arm into the correct position before it slips back into joint, otherwise the force will just break your arm.” You explained as you moved to stand in front of the large warrior when he sat back on one of the many crates pushed against the wall of the ship. You could barely hear the short exhales coming from the modulator and you could only guess that he was holding back speaking, whether in pain or frustration that you had strong-armed him into accepting treatment again.

“But hey, look on the bright side.”

His visor tilted slightly to look at you.

“No droids needed.” You shrugged a shoulder and sent him a grin when he said nothing. When he looked away, you focused your attention back on the problem shoulder; it wasn’t immediately clear that it had been dislocated, the pauldron he wore hiding the jutting ball of the joint that was no doubt pressed uncomfortably against his flesh. What you could see was that his left side was hanging just a bit lower than his right, and the inability to move the arm was a dead giveaway.

“Are you just going to stare at it or actually do what you said you would when you barged onto my ship?” The rasp was closer to you as he turned his head, the rumble of his voice decidedly deeper than you remembered last time. Or perhaps it always had been, and you just hadn’t been paying enough attention, more focused on the very real threat of having a dead body on your hands as the poison spread. You rolled your eyes; or it was all the short and biting commands he only seemed to know how to give as opposed to actually speaking that made you forget the voice. The man could be attractive, if he wasn’t so frustrating.

“I can’t see it properly.” You replied, agitated with him again. He got under your skin too easily, and ruined your cool demeanor.

“You dealt with the problem just fine before.” He snapped back, pain making him cranky.

“You didn’t have a bone out of place last time!” You stopped yourself, sucking in a breath before releasing it to prevent yourself from snapping again.

“At least,” you bartered, “let me remove the pauldron. I can feel around the duraweave to get an idea. I won’t see any more of you than I did last time.”

He didn’t say anything again for a time and honestly, he was the slowest person you’d ever met at receiving emergency medical care. Half the men you treated during the Rebellion would yell until you’d taken care of the worst of their injuries before they even considered if it was what they wanted or not.

“Fine.” Was all he responded, making no move to remove the offending piece so you took that as your cue to feel around the curved metal cautiously, feeling where it attached to his duraweave and releasing it into your hands before placing it down on a separate crate.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” A warning growl echoed in the hull, turning you back to your task with a hum.

It seemed the joint had popped forward, no doubt from caving in as Teff collided with Mando’s shoulder. You leaned forward, your fingers feeling around the area as gently as you could while his breathing came out a little shorter. You sent him an apologetic smile.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stay still, okay? Usually I’d have someone to hold—”

“I can keep myself still, just do it.” He snapped finally, turning to look at you before he looked away again. You said nothing more as you took his gloved hand in yours, turning the forearm over and feeling the hand clench in yours when he hissed.

“Shh, nearly there.” You soothed, moving your hand under his elbow to lift it so it was aligned with Mando’s shoulder. You stood, keeping the arm in place and twisting yourself to stand facing his side.

You were definitely out to get him. There was no other explanation for why he only seemed to be seriously injured in your presence. Din tried to tell himself he was being over-dramatic and irrational, that you hadn’t even been on the same planet when he was injured the first time, but then you opened your mouth and he felt justified in his petulant thoughts.

“On three.” He heard you warn and all he could offer was a single nod; the sooner he got this over with the better.

“One…” You jerked the arm forward and slipped the joint back into place quickly with a sickening crack and searing pain took his breath away before it began to ebb immediately.

“DANK…. FERRICK!” Din yelled as his good arm reached across to grip his left, bending forward as he breathed through the flash of pain. You moved out of his way, waiting for him to look back up at you through the helmet, deep pants making his chest heave. You cocked your head to the side when his eyes found yours, a clear question there.

He groaned as he sat back, leaning his head against the hull, “It… doesn’t hurt as much anymore.” He admitted, thinking that the smile you gave him was somewhat worth the knock to his ego at having to admit such a thing in the first place. And like last time, before he could even worry about the concerning direction that thought had led to, you were fluttering about opening crates and bins as if you owned the place.

“What the hell—” he made to stand indignantly.

“Do you have any spare cloth?” You interrupted, “Your arm needs to be bound for a few days. If you have bacta it might reduce the healing time a bit but honestly, I don’t think dislocations can be rushed despite recent studies. Rushing back to heavily lifting or activity for at least six weeks is a sure way to hurt yourself again.”

You were rambling now as you set a pile of disused yet clean cloth you found on your lap, sitting across from him as he just blinked at this enigma of a woman. Giving him orders in his own ship, were you daft?

Your eyes sharpened and shot to his and he was suddenly glad you couldn’t see behind his mask. His eyes had widened guiltily at the thought that you had read his mind.

“You will do what you’re told, understand Mando?” You warned as your fingers tied a loose sling from strips of cloth you’d pulled apart without even having to look at it, deft fingers looping the material and strengthening it with several more layers woven in for good measure.

“If you insist on getting injured so often, you live with the consequences. And the consequences are doing what you’re fucking told and being happy about it, got it? Sulk if you want, so long as you keep the arm bound and don’t take on any jobs for at least two months.”

He opened his mouth a few times at the audacity, did she have a death wish? He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him as if he were no more than a child and it made his blood boil. But just as quickly as the anger arose, it simmered as she muttered while watching her fingers tie off the sling,

“You don’t actually seem like a bad guy, and the galaxy can’t afford to lose anymore… not bad guys.” She seemed unsure of giving out even this level of praise but then again, she only had their first encounter to go by.

He grunted; not sure how to respond. And when Din was uncomfortable, he resorted to silence.

You got to your feet once the sling was suitably strong enough to support the weight of his arm without unravelling or breaking and you indicated to him, “May I?”

He jerked his head up in affirmation and you maneuvered the sling to sit correctly under his elbow and forearm, coaxing him to lift it slightly with a tap before you looped the tied end over his helmet, adjusting the length slightly to fit against him.

“You left Klatooine.” the statement rose from the warrior, his tone quieter than you’d heard him all day. Was he... trying to make conversation? Din told himself that it was merely out of curiosity from seeing you by chance on two totally different planets.

Blinking in surprise, you sat back on the crate in front of him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on one of your hands, “New Republic stopped funding the clinic and I realized that they’re all the same when it comes to the Outer Rim.”

He snorted in agreement, honestly, he wasn’t surprised to hear the New Republic had cut their losses on charity. It wasn’t in their nature to funnel money away from the Core planets.

“But it’s not all bad,” you continued, “I work with a doctor here. He’s old now so he should be enjoying his retirement. I’m kept busy and…”

He watched you while he waited for you to finish, surely there was more? But when you just shrugged and sent him a tight smile, he felt an uncomfortable niggle at the back of his neck, a familiarity that made him almost want to smile back even if you couldn’t see it. Almost. But not quite. He was unnerved at the… empathy he had for your situation. He too just… kept busy. It wasn’t towards any end beyond supporting the covert and the foundlings there. But for himself, he just kept working towards some translucent, non-existent goal, one job ended, and another began.

Something in your eyes told him you were doing the exact same thing. It unnerved him to think about.

“Echoy’la…” the word left him without knowing and you blinked,

“Hm?”

He shook his head and stood, grunting a bit at the ache in his shoulder when it jostled a bit, “Nothing. It seems I owe you my thanks again, demon medic.”

“I do have a name you know.” You snorted, letting the previous topic go as it seemed to just make him more awkward and grumpy than he already was. You packed away the medikit and replaced the unused cloth back where you found it.

“Somehow I don’t think it’ll be as fitting.”

“Whatever, sunshine.” You looked over your shoulder at him, the sling looking so out of place as he hooked a thumb in the utility belt he wore. It was amazing that he could still look as intimidating as he did. You gathered your things and started down the ramp leisurely. He followed you silently until he was standing at the entrance to the ship.

“Demon or not… thank you.” He called out as your feet hit the dusty ground of Mynock once again. You looked back over your shoulder and gave a single wave, calling something back to him that did make him smile behind his helmet this time.

As you disappeared into the streets of Mynock, he tested the name you had thrown back to him, rolling the syllables, and testing the vowels as he repeated it to himself.

Pity, he thought. He hated being wrong about anything, but somehow, your name was a much better fit than demon medic.

Not that he would ever admit that to you, of course.

Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog

#the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #din djarin imagine #mando imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic

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starlightrows · 3 years ago

Text

8 — The Healer

The Queen of Tatooine Masterlist

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Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: NSFW, Blood and injury, medical, unintentional self inflicted harm, mention of disordered eating (Not graphic, but warnings still apply), oral sex (f receiving)

Summary: You get the chance to start working on a long awaited project, and get in over your head.

A few days later your breakfast with Talece and Mira is interrupted by the head of one of the construction and renovation crews to let you know that the sunless garden space is complete.

You’re so excited you can hardly finish your meal. You find yourself wanting to sprint down the halls to see the room. It takes so much self restraint to compose yourself and walk beside the rather stoic and unbothered construction lead down to the room.

Before the renovation it must have been either a ballroom or a massive storage space. Either way it was not well maintained. It was full of piles and piles of junk that climbed all the way to the ceiling, the floors and the walls were damaged, and it was unusable.

It had been your idea to gut the room and turn it into something usable and unique. You loved having a garden on your homeworld, and since nothing grows on Tatooine due to the excessive heat from the suns and the lack of fertile soil, this seemed like the perfect use for the room.

Boba didn’t have much of an opinion on it either way when you initially pitched him the idea. In all honesty, he was just happy to see how happy it made you. He was quite impressed by your ingenuity creating this room. Artificial sun and moon lighting in real time with the seasons, water reclaimer and distributor so that whatever plant you choose can be watered without wasting it, and holo panels covering the walls to make the entire space look like an enclosed greenhouse.

And when you finally get to look at it, it’s perfect. Rows of raised garden beds, the lighting and holo panels look so real you’re almost sure they misunderstood your directions and just built out a patio instead.

“If there’s anything we missed or not up to your standard let us know, my lady” the foreman tells you

“No no, this is absolutely perfect” you can’t contain the smile on your face “Thank you! Thank you so much, it’s wonderful”

The foreman has to hold back a laugh, you’re practically vibrating, you're so elated. In all his years of doing large scale projects like this, he’s never had a client seem so appreciative.

“I’ll leave you to it my lady” The foreman politely exits the room, leaving you to wander around and admire their handiwork.

As you walk you begin taking notes on your data pad, for what plants and flowers you want to put in which planter boxes. It’ll be a tall order to get all the seeds and plant bulbs delivered here, but once they’re planted and growing, this will be a sight to behold!

You land up spending the entire day in the garden, labeling planter boxes with bits of flimsy tacked on the sides. Talece brought down a tray of food and insisted you eat something, but she also took the time to let you gush about the vegetables you planned to grow and how beautiful the room will be when things begin to bloom.

When you’re too exhausted to stand up straight any longer you make the long trek through the palace back to your room. Only to lay down on the bed with your data pad to begin placing the orders for soil, seeds, bulbs, labels, and plant pots. When you finally power off the data pad, you’re so happy. You can’t wait for Boba to be home so you can show him how amazing it all is.

You hear from Boba a couple days later, he is finally returning to Tatooine, and is “very excited” to see your new projects. He can’t help but smile picturing you squealing with delight as you show him all of your little plants and paintings.

On the same day, your soil and seeds finally arrive at the palace. You almost feel bad for having guards and some of the stronger looking servants help you drag bags of soil down to the garden. You feel less bad because you’ve got your sleeves rolled up to do the heavy lifting too.

Once everything is down there though, you release them to go back to their everyday duties. You get into a rhythm. Slice the seam off a soil bag. Dump into a planter box. Distribute evenly, and rake to till it. Move on to the next planter box.

Hours and hours and hours of this pass. You couldn’t be happier. It reminds you of summers back on your home planet, planting the seeds that would eventually become your fall crops. That would later become your fall meals. Soups and stews thickened with vegetables, roasted root and tubers to go with roasted meat, and gourds to be cooked down into mush to be put into pastries. It’s too hot to have such a need for hearty hot foods like that here on Tatooine. But you still crave them from time to time. It’s one of the only things you miss about your previous home.

As you’re slicing open a bag of soil, thinking about soup, you put in just a little too much force and swipe the blade farther than you expected. At first you don’t really feel it. But then you see the colorful bloom of fresh blood staining your sleeve. You’re stunned for a moment looking at it.

Your hands are covered with dirt. Mind over matter you resist the urge to clamp your dirty hand down over the bloody wound. Instead you calmly stand up and go back to your room. Staring straight ahead, not really able to look at it at the moment.

You get back to your room and know without looking that it is still bleeding but not that bad. I’ve had worse. I’ve had worse. I’ve had worse. You recite to yourself. You start the facet in the fresher and clean your hands, some of the blood has dribbled down your arm into your hand. You scrub it away quickly so you can peel off the shirt.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror. It’s bloody. But not bad. You figure if you can clean it well and wrap it tightly it’ll be fine. You decide you’re done for today and it might be best if you just clean it in the shower. Perhaps not your best decision, but people make poor choices when they’re in shock.

Eventually you are clean, dry, dressed, and have the wound wrapped in a clean bandage. The shock has finally worn off, leaving you feeling exhausted and in quite a bit of pain. You know you’ve probably pushed yourself a bit too far today, and not just because you got hurt. You didn’t remember to take breaks, drink water, or eat meals at all today. A nasty habit you’re still trying to break.

Tomorrow will be better, you promise yourself. You do the responsible thing and lay down for the rest of the evening, falling asleep to an older episode of one of the shows Boba likes to watch.

In the morning, your whole body is sore and the wound hurts pretty badly. You risk taking a peek at it, the bandage is mostly soaked through but not enough to stain the bedding or your clothes… your clothes from yesterday.

You groan in frustration, blood stains are difficult to remove if you let them set. Sitting up you feel a little dizzy, chalk it up to lack of food and water plus everything that happened yesterday. Today is going to be better, you remind yourself. You start by getting out of bed and drinking a glass of water from the fresher. There you already feel a little better.

Next you search around for your dirty clothes from yesterday. Just as you thought, stained. You decide to run some water in the bathtub and let it soak with soap while you take care of the wound. It’s certainly not a pretty sight, but you muscle your way through it and get it clean once more and wrapped as best you can. It’s not perfect but it will have to do.

Just as you finish up you hear a knock at the bedroom door followed by the door opening on its own. You flinch at the sound. Usually if someone in the palace needs your help they will knock but wait for you to bid them entry or open the door yourself. This can only mean one thing.

“Cyare?” It’s Boba! You turn quickly and dash out of the fresher, leaving the medical supplies on the counter.

“Boba!” You exclaim running into his waiting arms. He snatches you up in a bracing hug and laughs at your enthusiasm.

“I tried to com you last night to tell you I would be home in the morning but you didn’t answer. I figured you were asleep” He explains releasing you from the hug and pressing a kiss to you cheek.

“Oh yeah, I was really tired yesterday. I fell asleep with the holo on” you tell him with a bit of an embarrassed heat creeping up into your cheeks.

“You needed rest, can’t be blamed for that my dear” he assures you, tilting your face up to him to give you a proper kiss on the lips. The kiss deepens, both of you finding that you can’t seem to pull away.

“Stars I missed you” you say quietly when you finally have to break for fresh air

“I missed you too cyare. Let me clean up a bit and we can have some breakfast together” he lets you go completely now. You smile and nod happily. He kisses you one more time, and moves past you to go into the fresher while you go find clothes to wear for the day.

Suddenly Boba is calling your name from the fresher. Your heart fills with dread at the thought of what he’s just seen in there.

“What the hell happened in here? Are you alright?” He begins scanning you up and down with his eyes, zeroing in on the bandage on your arm.

“It’s okay! I’m okay” you assure him, trying to push past and clear away the medical supplies from the counter

He places his hands on his shoulders and spins you around to face him, carefully saying your name again with a warning air about him. His hands stay on your shoulders and he looks you in the eye when he asks again. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing really, I cut myself opening a bag of soil yesterday” you explain

He sighs and shakes his head “And what did the healer say?”

“I… I didn’t see a healer” you admit sheepishly

“What? Why not?” He’s appalled and a little frustrated

“I didn’t think it was necessary, I’ve had worse before” you realize his shock and frustration is not unfounded, any rational person probably would have spoken to a healer about this.

“Had worse? And you handled it yourself? Cyare, that is a serious injury” He says, as if repeating it would get you to understand the severity of the situation.

“Boba… I wasn’t welcome to visit the healer on my homeworld. I’m sorry, I didn’t think to ask for help” Suddenly you feel guilty and a little defensive “I don’t… I don’t know how to do that when I’m in trouble. I didn’t even think about it”

Then he understands. Of course you wouldn’t think to ask for help when you hurt yourself. Because you’ve been conditioned to think you would not get it if you asked. He has to remind himself that he too used to struggle with asking for assistance, and it’s something that he needs to be understanding about in this relationship.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry cyare, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you” he apologizes “I was just worried when I saw the bloody clothing and used medical supplies. I know you did your best with what you had at the moment. But now you’re not in danger, and we have the resources to have a healer that will actually help you. May I call someone to come look at it?”

You nod in acceptance and let him guide you back out into the main living space in your quarters. He sits you down in a chair, and asks that you just sit and relax for a couple minutes while he steps outside to give instructions to a guard or staff member.

He instructs a guard to go into Mos Eisley and bring back a healer, and a second guard to instruct the kitchen staff to bring a pitcher of hot water as well as breakfast. A few moments later there’s a gentle knock at the door. Boba calls for them to enter, and Mira comes forward bringing the pitcher of water and a tray laden with tea, toast, and eggs cooked the way you like them. She has a look of horror on her face as she sees Boba tending to your injured arm, and you cringe thinking back to your conversation with her the other day.

But Boba doesn’t seem to notice at all, “Thank you Mira, we might need more water if the healer asks for it later”

She gives a shaky curtsy and small voiced “Of course, my lord. My lady” before quickly leaving the room.

“So” Boba gives you a look “Cut yourself opening a bag of soil aye? Does that mean your fancy garden is finished?”

“Yes” you smile a little shyly, knowing that if he gets you talking about it you won’t shut up for the next half an hour at least

“Go on then, tell me everything” he encourages you, because more than anything, he missed hearing you gush about things you care about while he was traveling.

As you eat your breakfast you tell him about your new painting studio and the garden and all the plants you’ve ordered. Which things have arrived, which things you’re still waiting for. You tell him the truth about yesterday, that you had been at it for hours and your hand just slipped when you hurt yourself.

“Accidents happen cyare” he reminds you “I just want you to be more careful”

Just then there is another knock at the door, Boba calls for them to enter. The guard he sent into town has returned with the healer, and you’re surprised to see that you recognize him.

“It’s you, hello again” you greet him.

The man looks a little stunned. When you had asked him to make a remedy for chemical burn scars, you had said it was for your partner, not the kriffing king!

“Y-yes… nice to see you again… um… What seems to be the problem?” he asks, struggling to get his bearings.

Boba takes the liberty of explaining your injury to the healer, and invites him to come take his place so he can examine the wound and assess if it needs further treatment. While the healer works Boba excuses himself to remove his armor and get cleaned up in a different room of the palace. But he leaves two guards to watch over you. When Boba’s gone the healer looks up at you.

“You didn’t tell me your partner was the kriffing king” he hisses as he unwraps the bandage

“That was intentional” you explain “I can’t just go broadcasting to the entire city what my business is”

“Yeah but you might have mentioned it” he grumbles “would have charged you more”

He takes a look at your wound and takes on a look of concentration and disappointment

“What?” you ask with a touch of worry in your voice

“This needs stitches and bacta. You should have come to me or another healer immediately” he chastises you

“Hey, I did my best okay. And if you’re going to get mouthy can I at least know your name so I know who to curse in my mind when you stitch me up?” You bite back

“Darius” he replies “And you can curse me all you like, but you’ll thank me later when this heals without an ugly scar”

“Fine” you relent and let him get to work recleaning and stitching up the wound.

By the time Boba returns Darius has the wound rewrapped and is writing out instructions to keep it clean on a spare bit of flimsi. Darius gets markedly more tense when Boba is in the room, clearly he’s more intimidated by Boba than he is by you. He hands you the piece of flimsi and reminds you to be more careful next time before hastily departing the room with guards escorting him. Boba sends the breakfast tray out as well, finally giving you both some privacy.

“Now then, I believe I promised you a reward last we spoke” he leans forward to kiss the sensitive spot just behind your ear.

You hum in contentment as he continues kissing down your neck.

“Have you been a good girl while I’ve been gone?” he purrs

“Yes” you say with a little gasp and he sucks a particularly pleasant spot

“Go lay down for me” he pulls away from your neck and nods his head towards the bed. You get up quickly and toss the pillows up to the head of the bed and lay back.

He crawls up the bed slowly, pushing your legs apart at the knees dipping down to start a trail of kisses leading up and over your thigh. He breezes right past your needy pussy and instead continues kissing over your hips, and across to your tummy.

“You were so good for me on the com” he murmurs, dragging his nose across your skin, down from your belly button to top of your mound. He’s looking up at your pretty face, wanting to see every expression cross it.

Without blinking an eye, pushes his tongue between your lips and licks a broad stripe up, already tasting your arousal. He continues, slowly stroking you with his tongue up and down, up and down, up and down.

You can’t help it, you start squirming. It feels amazing, but his slow pace is driving you wild. Normally Boba might be a little mean and make you stay still, but it’s been too long and he’s loving watching you writhe in pleasure.

He maintains his long strokes but begins increasing his speed. Finally working an audible moan out of your chest. He switches tactic and pauses mid stroke, and begins fluttering his tongue just barely inside your dripping hole.

“Fuck!” You whimper trying to force yourself not to buck your hips into his mouth.

He knows you’re getting close and he knows just what to get you to the finish line, he makes one more broad stroke with his tongue and stops at the top of his path and latches onto your clit. Suckling and circling the swollen bud with his talented tongue.

Your whole body tensed with such force that you’re sure you might have pulled a muscle and moan in ecstasy as you cum on his face. Boba doesn’t stop, he continues to lap up your release all the way through your orgasm. When you’re finally laying back boneless with your eyes closed, breathing heavily he pulls away kissing back up your belly with feather light pressure until he’s hovering over you, kissing your neck and waiting for you to feel ready to open your eyes again.

Eventually you do open your eyes again, and place your hand on the back of his head to guide him away from your neck. He follows your direction and comes back down to kiss your lips.

“That was one hell of a reward” you say with a breathy laugh

“What can I say? I’m a man of my word” he shrugs laying down beside you

“You certainly are” you smile “I’m really glad you’re back”

“You really did miss me” he chuckles

“Of course I did! I love getting to talk to you about the garden and my painting and my projects. And I really missed getting to relax with you at night. And I love watching your weird holo dramas and hearing about your clients and having dinner with you. I just love… you” you find yourself admitting

He reached out, cradling your face in his hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb “I love you too cyare. I missed you dearly while I was gone. Thought about you every morning when I woke up and every night before I went to sleep”

Your heart soars hearing him say that. It’s easy to fall in love. Day in and day out, it just happens. It’s hard to admit you’re in love. You have to find the words to explain to someone why they are the most important person in your life and they give you unending joy even when you’re not right next to them. But with Boba it’s easy. It’s easy to be in love and it’s easy to say it.

“I love you”

Tag List: @cannedsoupsucks @otterly-fey @paige6768 @littledragonlady @star-hoes @aeryntheofficial @xx-small-town-witch-xx @lokigirlszendaya @ladysongmaster @2clones-1kamino @cagrame @ashbyrhymer @adancedivasmom @4rosydreams @heybub @thefact0rygirl @elinedjarin

#Boba Fett #Boba Fett x Reader #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x f!reader #The Queen of Tatooine #QT

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shivada-jade · 3 years ago

Text

magical mischief (2)

hogwarts!au

character(s): diluc ➡ mentions: kaeya, sucrose, childe, venti, baal, diona warning(s): swearing <3

notes: it was supposed to be diluc, zhongli, and thoma but diluc's unexpectedly got longer than i hoped oOPS so i made a separate one for zhongli and thoma

part 1: kaeya, childe, albedo

gryffindor!

diluc

everyone knows of the gryffindor prefect. some people would mistake him as ravenclaw for being so studious; some people would mistake him for slytherin for being so closed off. in his first year of hogwarts, people often mistook him as hufflepuff for being friendly, overly polite, and outgoing. the hufflepuff mistake changed when he turned sixteen.

no one knows what happened to his sudden change of personality. no one but kaeya and a strange, childhood, ravenclaw friend that works with another even stranger ravenclaw.

sucrose pushes her glasses up, watching you create another explosion in her room.

you cough, wiping off the ashes from your face. the black smudges on your face don't go away. sucrose hands you a handkerchief and you gratefully accept it, finally getting the grime off.

"project sixty-two oh-eight is unsuccessful." the mint haired girl notes in a journal. "moving on to..."

you tilt your head, giving her a nod to go on but she stares at the space behind you. you turn and see kaeya, cracking open the door with a quiet knock. you frown, his uncharacteristic actions feel so weird. he usually just blasts open the door with a flick of his wand and sashays inside.

"kaeya?" you ask after apologizing to sucrose for interrupting her. "what's up?"

the slytherin clears his throat, opening the door more widely. "may i have a moment of your time? preferably not here, though."

he's so... formal. unlike himself.

you wave goodbye to sucrose and promise her to do another experiment next time then direct your attention back to the boy in front of you. "sure, outside?"

he nods. with a swish of his robes, he walks out. you note his posture is so unlike him. his strides are more rigid, less carefree. it's like a comparison from a beauty model to an uptight CEO.

he leads you right in a place where you can see the black lake. it's awfully farther than you expected. you thought he was going to lead to to the court yard, or at least the slytherin common room.

"kaeya, you're not acting like yourself." you comment.

"haha!" an airy laugh escapes from someone. you jolt, surprised from the unexpected guest. you feel two hands clamp your shoulders. "you're absolutely right, my dear."

you knit your brows, walking away from kaeya and... diluc. you slap a hand over your mouth. "wait, diluc- did you just laugh?!" did he just call you 'my dear' with a peppy tone

kaeya grumbles in displeasure. his arms cross while his brother leans on him with a carefree attitude.

you make an 'o' shape with your lips, piecing the clues together. "oh.. oh." you try to remain stoic and serious about the situation, seeing how uncomfy kaeya- no- how uncomfy diluc is.

you gasp out laughing, clutching your stomach. you crouch on the ground unable to control your laughs and look up to the brothers with tears in your eyes, "oh- please! you've switched bodies! how?!"

no wonder the slytherin had been acting all curt and polite. diluc in kaeya's body pinches the bridge of his nose. "the new first year did this," he starts to explain. "took one look at me and said, 'i will destroy the wine industry!' i don't even know how the kid knows of my family's business in the muggle world."

"placed a spell on us with weird words while having a quidditch practice match," kaeya finishes. "but really, who doesn't know of the winery? even the purest of purebloods know of it."

kaeya (still in diluc's body) looks at the red portion of his robes with a scrunched up nose. you're unable to tell if he hates how the robe feels on him. or if he hates wearing gryffindor's colours.

you hum, scratching your head. "you want me to undo the spell, right?"

"if it isn't a problem," diluc presses his lips together. with one glance at your unsure face, his shoulders droop. "you don't know how, do you..."

you smile sympathetically. "i'll try my best to undo it, but just in case, we need to find that first year, to the source itself"

kaeya raises his arms behind his now red hair, "great! it feels so weird to be seeing with both my eyes. or well, with both diluc eyes. the kid's name is diona. she's also in slytherin like me. diluc will lead you to her."

"what? why me," diluc asks.

"because you're the one who looks like me, duh! i cant go in the slytherin common room if i look like gryffindor prefect. just bring [y/n] with you. childe can also help-"

diluc glowers, "you still hang around that scum?"

"you still keep that vase?" kaeya throws sweet poison to diluc.

you chuckle nervously when you see them bring their wands out. "so, diona? let's find her."

kaeya raises a brow, and smirks. "toodles~! i dont want to spend another minute in this grump's body. that donna girl keeps trying to give me a pie- i dont want seven different pies." he wriggles his fingers to show his goodbye.

you shiver. it's so weird to see diluc- when you know diluc isn't actually diluc in his body. but his face keeps smiling and showing emotions with kaeya's soul inside. it's weird to not see only little quirks of his mouth or his typical sighs.

but really though, you could stare at kaeya's new face. it's strange seeing diluc with a scheming face: the one kaeya typically wears

"please at least try to not get into any trouble..." diluc purses his lips. "i'll try to act like you- you try to act like me."

you stare at diluc with owlish eyes. diluc? acting like kaeya?

it seems kaeya has the same reaction, because he freezes. luckily for him, he's quick witted, "oh? act like you?" he musters the grouchiest face and crosses his arms. "hello, i am diluc ragnvindr. i am a grouchy gryffindor. i hate kaeya. i hate lots of slytherins, especially the beautiful, gorgeous asshole named kaeya," he praises himself.

diluc fights the urge to throw him into the black lake. you laugh, dragging diluc away and leading him to where the slytherin common room is.

"i've only been here once, but i am acquainted with childe, so he can show us around." you bump his side playfully and stand outside the slytherin common room.

"CHILDE." you yell with your hands amplifying the noise.

"WHADDUP SHAWTY," you hear a shout from behind you.

you nod to diluc, encouraging him to somehow find a way to get the slytherin password from childe. you know he hates him, but you want to see dilucs words come true. you want to see how he acts as kaeya.

he lets out a shaky sigh and smiles so casually. the smile is so pretty, it hurts. it's a shame he doesn't do that with his own face.

childe beams seeing the two of you, "hey comrades! what are you all standing around for?" he prods around, eying diluc then snaps his fingers as if realizing something.

you wait a bit for diluc to say something, or act more, but it seems he's done his acting gig and goes straight to the point. "what's the password?"

you deadpan. childe's gonna question him now and he'd have to say he's actually dilu-

"yeah sure no problem! it's 'reckoning'"

diluc says the word to a blank wall and enters through the door. you squint your eyes and make a face at childe. "you're up to something, i know."

he shrugs and pushes you in after diluc. "tell diona i said hi."

...

you sit at the lounge, waiting for diluc to show up with diona. your brows crease, because diluc is right. childe knows something others don't. you don't recall telling childe you were trying to find diona.

you doubletake, seeing a hufflepuff drinking an absurd amount of butterbeer from who knows where. they hang their arms around a slender, purple haired slytherin who tries to push him off with disgust.

what is venti doing hanging out with the slytherin queen. he'll die-

"venti," you hiss, reaching out to try and let him live a bit longer.

he hiccups and waves you over. he 'whispers' to the slytherin next to him. oh he's in trouble now. "psst, baal. is that the one all the slytherins are talking about?" his whispers are shouts at this point.

the slytherins at the lounge freeze, hoping you havent caught on yet.

baal hits venti's head with a hand, "shut up. you're ruining the plan."

you snort seeing venti spill his drink on his clothes.

"but baal," venti downs what's left in his mug. "if that grumpy gryffindor wont confess to [y/n] then how on earth is the plan even going to work? he barely even talks to [y/n] these days because hee likes [y/n] too much." he says as if you're not in the room. he continues babbling even after baal kicks his shins, "kaeya's plan won't work if diona-"

oh shit so it's kaeya's plan and every slytherin is on it

baal drags venti out of the common room and throws him out and all the other slytherins hastily leave to their own rooms.

diluc coughs from behind you, now transformed to his normal self and with who you assume is diona. pink peppers his face while he tried to cover his face with his fiery hair. "um, i found diona. she swapped me back."

diona sticks her tongue out. "that ugly kaeya made a deal with me on something and i had to oblige! it's honestly so pathetic how you can't confess so deal or no deal: i had to do it, but the uglier bard ruined the whole plan so i turned you back."

diluc dusts imaginary dust off his cloak and grasps your hands. he looks down to his feet, still unsure of whether to do this or not. "well, you heard it all. it's a shame it couldn't be from me but-" he rambles. with other's he's confident, but with you he's a mess. "i hope you can accept my feelings. if not i understand, i'll go on with my day and you'll never have to see me."

he holds his breath, silently quivering with the lack of response you give. a hand lifts his chin up and he stares at your eyes, nervous.

you didn't say anything, but you smile and give his the warmest hug.

he knows the answer now.

he wraps his arms back, silently thanking kaeya for his idiotic plan. it's stupid, but it worked in the end.

BONUS!:

"KAEYA I WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS"

kaeya swirls a gold goblet with sparkling grape juice inside. he wolfishly grins and holds his cup up with a hand. "a toast for master diluc! for finally confessing, if people can even call it that."

he lowers it, placing it on his lips but never drinking it. he grins under the cup seeing diluc's wand in his hand flaming red.

"it's not even my fault." kaeya starts to explain his bullshit to diluc, "you can blame yourself. honestly, it gets tiring seeing you pine for so long and avoiding them like you weren't childhood friends with them."

the tips of diluc's ears turn red, not wanting to agree with his brother, but it was true. he was hopeless in the romantic department by himself. he can reject thousands and millions of people. he can have who ever he wants, but you aren't "whoever." you're the most special someone to him and that made him scared.

kaeya hands his drink to diluc, "do i get a thank you?"

diluc scoffs, yet accepts the drink. "thank you," he quietly mutters.

part 3: thoma, zhongli

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader

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bittydragon · 3 years ago

Text

The Ant King

Note: Huge thanks to Bittydragon for inspiring me to write this. I’ll be honest, this is the first fic I've ever actually written, as well as the only piece of creative fiction I've written in like two years so… fingers crossed it goes well hahaha.

TW: tight spaces, darkness, uh,,, bugs i guess. Near death experience

There are things you have to know about ants when you get an ant farm. Basic fundamentals. What to feed them, how to keep them alive, what type of ants you have, etcetera. Even if your intentions were… torturous. After all, you need to know what makes something tick in order to make it stop.

One of the more common facts about ants is that every colony has a queen. She orders her ants to keep her alive so she can make more ants. Simple biology, the continuation of a species. Every nest has a queen, or it dies.

Apparently, this colony didn’t get the memo.

These thoughts buzzed in grumpy circles around Wilbur's’ head as he followed his ant companion, Tommy, deeper into the ant-farm. They had been wandering these tunnels for what felt like days now, in the center of the farm so there were no glass barriers to show the outside world. They were deep too. Almost at the bottom of the compound. Wilbur was not one to show fear, but even he was beginning to get claustrophobic.

Tommy, who up until now had been jabbering like a toddler the whole trip through the ant-farm had also gone uncharacteristically silent. The whole trip Wilbur had wanted nothing more than a few seconds of quiet from him, but now he missed the carefree noise.

They were on their way to see the ant King. A type of ant that, as far as Wilbur knew, didn’t exist. So either they were on a wild goose chase, or Will was way out of his depth.

The further they went, the more he was convinced it was the latter.

“Tommy do you-” Wilbur paused, his echoing voice in the tunnel almost felt like a taboo. An affront to the maddening silence that stalked them. He lowered his voice.

“Do you think… Will I ever get back to normal? Will the ant king change me back?” He hated that little quiver in his voice. He hated the uncertainty. The waiting.

Tommy continued to march forward silently, pondering the question.

“I dunno big man, I think you’ve changed heaps since you got here.” He turned his head to flash Wilbur a grin “Then you’ll be out there and all nice n shit. It’ll be poggers.”

The tunnel was dark, but not dark enough to hide the flash of uncertainty in Tommy’s eyes.

Wilbur's heart sank. “Thanks mate.” He mumbled, and they trekked on, once more in silence.

By the time they saw light, it felt like they had been walking for days. Wilbur was almost glad he was about to meet possibly one of the most powerful ants in this colony. They rounded one last bend, and they were there.

Before them stood a huge double door set in the wall. Two vines with some kind of glowing fruit framed the door, shedding light on the small space. In front of the door, leaning on a spear made from a twig was another ant with a pair of large white rimmed goggles.

“Well… This is it I guess.” Wilbur muttered. He cleared his throat “Hey, um. I-i’m here to have an audience with the King? If that's alright.”

The guard ant didn’t respond, continuing to stare at them with no discernible expression.

“H-hello?” Wilbur glanced at Tommy, who shrugged.

“Excuse me? Anyone home?” Wilbur snapped his fingers in front of the ant's face.

He seemed to startle slightly, before slumping down a bit and letting out a loud snore.

“What the fuck” Tommy said.

Before anyone could do much of anything, one of the massive double doors creaked open and a voice came through.

“George, I swear if you fell asleep again, I'm going to rip off your antenna and use them as- oh.”

Another ant entered the room, this one also carried a twig-spear and had a strip of white cloth tied around his forehead. As soon as his gaze landed on Wilbur, his expression soured.

If looks could kill… Wilbur thought nervously

“It’s you” The new ant spat “Took your sweet time getting here Soot. Earthquake slow you down? Didja get a taste of your own medicine from your big pals out there?”

Wilbur pursed his lips, and the ant snorted. “Yeah. Thought so.” He walked forward and gave George a hard shove, sending the other ant sprawling with a startled yelp.

“Sapnap what the hell?!” He snapped, before spotting Wilbur and Tommy. “Oh hey. That guy is here.”

“Yeah he’s here, idiot.” Sapnap smacked George over the head with his spear “And we would have known a lot sooner if you hadn't fallen asleep on duty again!”

“OW! Sapnap stop! Get off me!”

Wilbur cleared his throat, drawing their attention “Sorry to interrupt, but me and my friend have been walking for a long, long time, so could we please have an audience with the King?”

Subpoena glared “Yeah. He’s waiting for you. Against my advice, he wants to see you.”

Oh. That… didn’t sound great.

Wilbur tried not to think about the implications of that statement as he approached the double doors. Tommy moved to follow, but was stopped by the guards.

“Hey!” He groused “Let me through dickheads!”

“I'm afraid the King only wants an audience with the great and powerful Wilbur Soot” Sapnap said with a smirk.

“But I want to go too! Let me in! You stupid ugly bitch ill fight you! You may have a fancy stick but just wait until I pull out my knife-gun!”

“Tommy its fine.” Wilbur interrupted “I’ll be fine mate, promise. Just wait here. I wont leave without saying goodbye.”

The last thing he saw was Tommy’s antenna drooping sadly, before the doors swung closed behind him.

If Wilbur thought the tunnel was dark before, that was nothing compared to the room he was in now. The darkness was so thick, so absolute, that it made no difference if his eyes were open or closed.

“Hello?” Wilbur called “Uh… your majesty? I was told that you wanted to see me.”

His voice echoed slightly in the huge space, but there was no reply.

Wait. What was that? Something rasped ever so slowly across the opposite wall. Something big. As it moved, the moss where it had been standing glowed a dull green.

Bio-luminescence Wilbur reasoned. Trying to distract himself from the fear creeping up his spine. Touch activated, it seems.

He swallowed dryly “L-look, just tell me what you want. I’m not here to cause trouble”

The thing moved again, its raspy scuttle reverberated through the chamber.

“Wilbur Soot, not here to cause any trouble” A thoughtful voice hummed from the dark “Now that’s a first.”

The bio-luminescent moss was lighting up more of the room. If he squinted, Wilbur could make out a... leg. Probably.

Wilbur inches slowly to the side, the moss lighting up his own path. “Okay, I get it, I've done morally questionable things in the past, but I've learned a lot from my time here. I’m sorry.”

“For now” The voice replied. The thing was moving on the other side, matching him step for step. “What's to say you aren't faking remorse to get out of here? And maybe you really are sorry. How can I be sure you wont change your mind the second you're back to normal? It's too much of a risk.”

Wilbur continued to back away nervously “Your majesty-”

“Please, call me Dream. Everyone else does.”

“Right… Dream. I can say with 100% certainty that won't happen. I've seen people die in front of me. That’s enough to change anyone's stance on something.”

“And yet I'm still not convinced.” It was moving faster now, scuttling across the floor, walls and even across the ceiling. Wilbur's head spun with the motion. “And since we’re talking in hypotheticals, riddle me this: Whoever said I was going to let you out anyway? What if I just like to play with my food?”

Dream stopped suddenly, rearing over Wilbur, and with all of the lit up moss, he got his first proper look.

This ant was huge. Twice- no, at least three times the size of Wilbur himself. He looked a bit like a centaur, with a human torso connected to a pure white and thorax and abdomen.He also wore a strange white mask with a blank eyed smiley face drawn on.

Two huge claw arms- similar to those of a praying mantis- extended from Dreams waist and slammed into the dirt either side of Wilbur, startling him enough that he fell onto his ass. The king leaned forward with that lifeless grin, and Will closed his eyes, preparing for the end.

“But…” Dream said thoughtfully “A proper experiment should account and test for all variables, shouldn't it?”

“Y-yeah generally” Wilbur stuttered

“Oh good.” Dream hoisted him roughly to his feet. “I’m glad I asked you. After all, you know all about experiments, don’t you?”

Wilbur chose not to answer, glowering at Dream as the eyes on his mask briefly glowed a dull green.

A moment later, Sapnap and George marched in, dragging a cussing and struggling Tommy behind them.

“YOU STUPID MOTHEFUCKERS!!! Let me go or ill get married in rage!! Fuck you and-! Oh. wow that is a big fella.” Tommy stopped and stared in awe at Dream

“Sapnap, give Wilbur your spear.” Dream ordered.

A flicker of doubt crossed Sapnaps face but he obediently shoved the spear into Wilbur's hands.

“I’ll make you a deal, Wilbur Soot.” Dream purred, circling him. “I will let you go to your old life. You can do whatever you like; kill us, torment us, throw us away… it doesn't matter. All you have to do is kill one ant.” He gestured to Tommy.

“What?” Wilbur whispered.

“WHAT?!” Tommy roared “fuck you! I'm not your dumb-ass pawn, I'm going to kill you! Rrrrrrrrrrr!” he writhed, attempting to bite George who did a surprisingly good job of holding him still.

“Go on.” Dream cooed “It's just one insignificant ant standing between you and freedom. You've killed hundreds. What's one more?”

Spear in hand, Wilbur took a hesitant step forward.

Tommy's gaze snapped up “Wilby?” He asked, his struggling pausing for a moment.

Their eyes met, fear clashing with sorrow. Tommy seemed to see something in Wilbur's expression and hung his head in defeat. As if he had expected Wilbur to betray him.

Oh hell no. Fuck that. Wilbur angrily tossed the spear aside.

“No. I won't.”

“What?” Dream spat

Wilbur rounded on him “No! I won't kill him! Keep me here, kill me, hunt me for sport, whatever! Just leave him out of this! Tommy has been nothing but nice to me since I met him, even though it don't deserve it!” He rubbed his arm. “God knows I don't deserve it.”

“Hmm…” Dream hummed “Are you sure, even if it costs you your life?” One of Dream's massive claw arms grazed his side, a subtle threat.

Wilbur looked over at Tommy, who had a look of hope on his face.

“Yeah.” Will smiled, “I'm sure.”

I probably could have written more, but i wont. I hope you like this fic bitty! Thanks for reading :)

Edit: Fortune, this is amazing! Like, I hadn't really thought about this encounter in a lot of detail, but I honestly like this a lot! And Dream being a big boy since he's the king ant. Just yes. Thank you so much for this.

#submission #fan work #tiny!tommy #tiny!wilbur #tiny!dream #tiny!sapnap #tiny!george #giant!dream?#maybe?#mcyt gt #thank you again!#betmyfortune

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cheekygreenty · 3 years ago

Text

Little Witch - Part 20

The Darkling x Reader

He carried you to your bed that night, gently slipping off your kefta and taking out the uncomfortable hairpin in your hair while you slept like a baby.

Zoya had barged into his office earlier and mentioned that you were swarmed with duties so naturally he did was had to be done and took it all on himself for that day. Your door felt no vibrations from knocks after Zoya left and the 'accidental dozing off' turned into your full night sleep with Aleksander by your side yet again.

You were furious as you woke up, to say the least. Your enraged muttering breaking Aleksander's sleep as you whipped out from under his arm and out the bed. You only dared to shoot him a look of displeasure before you slammed the door shut as you left. He barely registered your body running around the room, nevermind the nasty gaze sent his way

'Good morning to you too'

****

'Is everything in order?' You were still fixing the kefta belt as you approached the head of guards.

'Yes Deputy. We've been letting performers in for about an hour now and it's all going smoothly.'

'No requests to see the Sun-Summoner?'

'Plenty, but we've taken care of them just as Zoya Nazyalensky told us to.' He curtly nodded, tilting his head in the way of the prison-holding cells.

'I'm glad to hear that.'

As you went to see how Marie's kefta was coming along, you found the room empty and her nowhere to be found, the seamstress looking equally as confused as she entered the bare room. You caught Genya heading for the Vezda suit out of the corner of your eye and called her name loudly.

'Marie is late to her kefta fitting, like very late. Do you have any idea where she is?'

'I think she may be with Alina, I'll be sure to fetch her' she said and waltzed away from you.

'Genya wait!'

'Yes?'

'When you get Ms.Starkov ready, give her this ring' You dug around in your pocket for the metal ring and handed it to the red-haired Tailor. 'Make sure she's wearing it.'

'Of course Deputy.'

You watched her white kefta diminish behind the doors and sighed loudly, going down the mental to-do list of the morning. I'm already tired.

*****

'Have you seen the Deputy?' Aleksander asked Ivan as they headed for his chambers.

'Last I seen she was helping conduct perimeter checks with Fedyor.'

'Good.' He wanted to see you in your winter fete kefta, silently hoping you chose to keep with the black but he knew he was being greedy. He can't have both you and Alina.

'Get her for me, I need to speak to her.' Ivan nodded and turned back around in search of you, clearly displeased at the task.

Putting his lust for you away, Aleksander returned to a working state of mind. He needed to speak to you before the fete started. It was essential you heard what he had heard from the Grand Palace.

He retreated to his chambers and began to get ready for the fete until a certain someone entered the room unannounced.

***

'Deputy Y/L/N, the General wishes to speak to you.' Ivan was at your door with a glum look on his face as a team of ladies tended to your hair and face.

'Now?' You laughed but he only shrugged. You rolled your eyes and signaled for them to finish what they were doing and let you leave.

The ladies frowned but stepped away, clearly dissatisfied. Not only did they get a late start due to you chasing Alina and Genya down on the Palace courtyard, but now they had to finish early too. You had yet to change out of your kefta and into the fete's outfit but for now, you ignored your appearance.

All that mattered to you was that the evening went smoothly and without security threats and if the General requested to see you, you would be there to discuss whatever had gone wrong. This is Ravka after all, something always goes wrong.

'I'm coming, relax your frown for once.' You joined him at the door and walked silently alongside him to the Darkling's quarters. The Palace was buzzing with life as foreign ambassadors took up residence in the rooms and servants prepared the spaces with brimming luxury. Ravka needed to display its strength and wealth today and if it meant meticulously counting the fresh roses in each room, that was what was had to be done.

Although your demeanor showed a relaxed and posed facade, you were very stressed. You hadn’t gotten enough sleep recently and given your extreme training schedule before you arrived at the Palace, the amount of time you spent using them now, or lack thereof, had managed to dwindle you mentally. You were hanging on by a mere thread.

Ivan knocked on the door for you before moving away to the side. You didn't wait for his response and just walked in but stopped short when you looked ahead. The Sun-Summoner you had scolded not even 30 minutes ago was standing in his quarters, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He stood next to her looking equally as red-handed. Realization flooded you that you had interrupted an intimate moment between the two summoners. You cleared your throat, trying your best to act normal.

'You requested to see me, General.' His head tipped up at your collected demeanor, wondering whether you felt the tension too.

'Yes, I did' He moved around to the table, walking past Alina who decided it would be best she left and got ready. You smiled at her as she left, muttering some pleasantry about seeing her at the fete but deep inside the jealousy began boiling in you despite your attempts to rationalize it.

'Y/N -'

'Let's not talk about it. Please.' Your voice was a whisper, a strong contrast to the voice Alina heard. 'I agreed to the plan, I have no right to argue with you.' You feebly smiled. His stare was pitiful on you but he did as you asked.

'I need you to speak to the Queen when she arrives at the Little Palace.'

'Why?' Your face contorted into an expression of confusion and disgust, quickly forgetting about what just happened.

'My intel tells me she is in awe of you. Genya overheard her speaking to one of her aids about you and a possible position for you in the Grand Palace'

Your eyes widened at his words. You had been tolerating the Queen like a toddler, giving into her whims and tantrums in hopes of her staying calm, not in hopes of being whisked away to work for the crown.

'Are you serious?'

'Yes'

'Saints' The weird headache was back, settling into the back of your head like a dull drum.

'Listen to what she has to say'

'Do you think I would accept whatever she has to offer? You'd be a fool to assume I would even consider it.' He turned away from you, displeasure obvious on his face.

'I just ask that you entertain her. And would it really be so bad? Whatever it may be, it would aid our course substantially-'

'All I ever wanted and needed were my Grisha, Aleksander. That's why I came back, not for the Lantsov Crown.'

'I'm not forcing you into anything Y/N. Just listen to her.' His voice was soft and gentle like he was lulling you down from an outburst but you knew he was plotting, taking every advantage he could grasp.

'Alright.' you sighed, still processing all the information at once. The Queen, The Fete, The Grand Palace, Alina, and Aleksander. It was clouding your mind like a fog. 'I should go get ready' Your mind was bursting at the seams with thoughts and speculations, you needed to have some alone time and you prayed to the Saints 20 minutes would be enough to put yourself at ease.

He reached out for you but you were already moving to leave, leaving him hanging in his chambers with a look of sorrow on his face.

Your feet dragged you to your chambers with little energy but much heaviness. The Summoner blue gown and kefta hanging on the door were glued to your gaze as you debated even going to the fete.

Within a span of 10 minutes, Aleksander had somehow managed to overwhelm you to the point of a lingering breakdown. You weren't sad or angry or jealous, you were overwhelmed, your mind was blank yet full and it made you want to cry. The stress of the last couple of days did not help either.

But alas you got yourself together, wiping the lone tears away and putting on your fete attire. It was heavy and comforting, like an armor ready to be destroyed as you entered the battlefield. The foreign diplomats were to meet you today and bring word back to their home countries about the Witch, the Deputy Commander of Ravka's Grisha Army and you would look the part too.

You held your head high and radiated the most powerful energy you could muster while you walked to the makeshift throne room before the official start of the fete. She was sitting there next to the King looking every part of a Lantsov Queen.

The crown settled on her head nicely and looked to be of perfect fit as you approached her, curtseying and making pleasant conversation. It was draining to listen to her empty stories in anticipation of what you knew was coming. In a shocking reality however, you had no idea what she was really thinking and neither did Aleksander, or Genya, or anybody.

It wasn't until she grabbed your wrist tight in her hold and made you kneel next to her in the empty room did you freeze and crumble beneath her. The King was watching eagerly with his head held high and a smirk on his face. In that moment all you were was their subject and she was the Queen, commanding a commander. You were no General, or Grisha, or high ranking officer. You were simply a girl who held their eyes for too long. A girl who was not simple but regal.

It was nothing short of debilitating. The facade crumbling and crashing to the ground with silent thuds while the words stuck in your head like a pulsing bee sting.

'We wish for you to marry my son, my dear Nikolai'

--------

Part 21

Shockerrrrr I know but don’t worry for those who haven’t read the novels, I will not be introducing Nikolai as a character. Maybe I will when I decide to move this to AO3 but not as of right now.

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb @grisha-of-shadow-bone @rosiethefairy

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ur-favorite-queer-queen · 4 years ago

Text

Warmth

For Maribat March day 3 theme warmth

Master List

Dick was excited, he found out that there was a carnival happening in Metropolis and to his delight everyone’s schedule was free. So, whether they wanted to or not, they were going!

Unfortunately, because they can’t leave their city abandoned, Bruce, Duke, and Alfred would be staying. Damian had wanted to stay too, but he wasn’t going to let that happen, he wanted brother bonding. Which he had already gotten with Duke when he found out he couldn’t come.

Everything was great, there wasn’t a lot of traffic and there were still a few empty parking spaces when they arrived. Now, there were quite a few activities he saw on the carnival’s website that he wanted to do. As he turned around to address his family he noticed someone missing. It wasn’t Damian or Jason like he had expected and it wasn’t Tim or Steph. No, this time it was Cass.

He knew they hadn’t left her behind, which means she had ditched them, but why?

“Have any of you seen Cass?” Dick asked, eyes darting around to see if he could spot her.

“No we haven’t.” Steph responded, just as confused.

“TT, if Cass can leave why can’t we?” Damian scoffed.

“Cass didn’t leave, I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.” Dick responded, trying to convince everyone including himself.

They started searching, when Jason called them all over to him. “I tried looking at the tracker we have on Cass’s phone but it’s turned off, and then she sent us this.” He turned his phone around to show them all the text she had sent, ‘I’m currently with a friend, I will meet up with you guys later. Enjoy yourselves.’

The message seemed like something Cass would say. Just as everyone finished reading the text they were sent another one, by Alfred. ‘Miss Cass is safe, you do not need to worry. She has already informed me of her plan. You will have to plan another bonding trip with Cass next time, Master Dick. Enjoy the carnival and I will alert you if Cass is in trouble.’

“Of course Alfred would know that she was going to ditch us and not tell us.” Damian remarked, he felt no ill will towards the butler/grandfather figure, however he wished Cass would’ve taken him with her.

“Cass probably asked Alfred not to tell us,” Steph assured, “But while we’re here we should enjoy it. Alfred will tell us if anything is wrong with Cass and if we happen to spot her before we’re supposed to leave, maybe we can meet her friend.”

Everyone agreed and Dick started to drag them all to the first activity. It was going to be a long afternoon.

Cass didn’t want to ditch her family, but she was already planning on going to the carnival before Dick decided to drag them to it. Marinette had found out about the carnival a week before Dick. While she lived in New York she had planned for her and Cass to meet up at the carnival in Metropolis.

Things had gotten pretty busy in her life, between maintaining her grades in college and getting ready to soon take over Style Queen. While her best friend Chloe would be taking over the business side, she would be taking over the fashion side and that was still a whole lot of responsibility. She was just happy she would get to spend time with her girlfriend.

Did her family know about Marinette, no. Well, Alfred knew because she told him, he would’ve found out anyway. She was happy her honorary grandfather was helping her. She would love for Marinette to meet her family, one day. But right now her girlfriend was stressed enough as it is and her family would not help if they were to meet. They would add to her stress if anything.

That’s why Cass had been making sure to steer clear of where her family was supposed to be. She had memorized Dick’s schedule of what they were going to be doing when, just to make sure that they didn’t catch her with her girlfriend. There was definitely going to be a talk interrogation later, but right now, staring at her girlfriend’s carefree smile, she would think about the consequences later.

“What do you want to do next Cass?” Marinette asked, holding a stuffed animal that she was planning on giving away. Yet just as she said this her stomach grumbled.

Cass grinned at her girlfriend, signing, “Let’s eat food,” before grabbing Marinette and dragging her to a place she saw selling hot dogs earlier.

They quickly ate their food, with Marinette making comments about how Cass could eat the monstrosity that was mustard and Cass making weird faces at the ketchup on Marinette’s hotdog. Both knew their chosen condiments were superior.

By now it was starting to get dark, they had already played most of the games, with Marinette giving every single prize she won to a little kid she saw staring, and they were wondering what to do next. Cass knew that her family was planning on going on the ferris wheel a little later, so she figured that if she and Marinette went now they would be able to evade her family. Marinette had wanted to leave early and still go on the ferris wheel and this gave Cass enough time to turn her trackers back on at the entrance once Marinette had left.

“Go to the ferris wheel?” Cass signed. Marinette nodded her head eagerly, quickly throwing away their trash before taking Cass’s hand and walking towards the ferris wheel.

After a 10 minute wait Cass and Marinette were being loaded into their cart. Marinette was all smiles and Cass even let a small smile creep onto her face at the sight. However, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her family getting in line for the ferris wheel. As they were making their way up, she turned her head slightly to face them and it was then that she made eye contact with Damian. She let a small smile show on her face before they were out of view and she turned back to her girlfriend.

Damian was not happy with his current situation. Dick had been dragging them to all the different carnival games and food stands when he just wanted to go home. Was it satisfying when he beat one of the rigged games, yes, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be here.

But at last they were doing the final thing on Dick’s list, the ferris wheel. Steph and Jason were arguing over something, Dick was trying to play peacekeeper, and Tim was on his phone. As Damian observed those already on the ferris wheel, he spotted a familiar girl being loaded in. His thoughts were confirmed when said girl turned and looked him in the eye and had the audacity to smirk at him.

“Grayson, Todd, Drake, Brown.” Damian stated, when they turned to look at him he nodded his head in Cass’s direction. They all turned to see what he was motioning too and Dick gasped.

“Is that Cass?”

“Yeah it is, but who is that girl she’s with?” Steph asked the obvious question.

“I just got a picture of her. It’s a little blurry but I think I’ll be able to do a facial recognition when we get back to the manor.” Tim added in.

“How come Cass never told us about her friend?” Dick asked, a tiny bit of hurt could be heard in his voice.

“Probably cause she knew we would scare her off.” Tim retorted, trying to clear up the picture as much as he could.

“Or because she’s not just a friend.” Jason piped up, for the first time since the start of the conversation.

“Todd what do you mean by that?” Damian sneered, but he was curious as to what Jason meant.

Jason proceeded to snatch the phone from Tim’s hand and pointed to the picture. “For starters, they look much closer than ‘friends’ would be, Cass looks much more relaxed than she is with any of her other friends, and they’re holding hands.”

Everyone took a closer look at the photo and sure enough Jason was right.

“Wait, those are great points and all but what if…” Dick started but was interrupted by Jason.

“They’re also making out right now.”

Tim went to his camera app and zoomed onto the cart Cass and her ‘friend’ were in. Sure enough, they were kissing. Not full on making out like Jason had said, but still very intimate.

“We are definitely questioning her later, right?” Steph asked, breaking the silence.

She was met with 4 nods before they were being loaded into their own carts.

“Thanks for coming with me Cass.” Marinette tells her girlfriend while they sit at the top of the ferris wheel.

“Welcome.” Cass signs. However, Cass also notices how her girlfriend is shivering and signs, “You’re cold.”

She proceeds to remove her jacket and place it on Marinette’s shoulders.

“It’s fine Cass, really.” Marinette tries and fails to convince her.

“Much better.” And Cass was right about that, Marinette had stopped shivering and was much more relaxed under the warmth of her jacket.

“Yeah, yeah. So how is your family gonna react?” Marinette changes the subject.

“Badly,” Cass signs, “But it’s okay. I have you.” Before wrapping her arms around her girlfriend.

“Yeah, I love you Cass.” Marinette whispers to her girlfriend giving her a soft kiss on her forehead.

“I love you.” Cass simply states, returning the kiss with one of her own and cuddling with her girlfriend until their cart comes back down. With a couple more kisses and a plan to get together soon Marinette leaves for the bus to New York, while Cass waits at the entrance for her family. It’s when a chilly breeze blows that she realizes Marinette still has her jacket. One more thing to add to the interrogation that’s coming her way.

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I think the world would be a better place if we got more Cassinette! So I give you Cassinette! If Cass seems out of character I apologize, I have no prior experience writing her.

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #maribat march #warmth #cassinette #fluff

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harrylilies · 4 years ago

Text

The Royal Series | Pt. IV

The Royal Series Masterlist

"Your Highness," One helper tipped his head at you before, discreetly, glancing at Harry who was in awe by the surroundings.

"I'm taking Noir on a walk, can you please get her ready for me, Albert?” You asked with a smile.

"Of course, your Highness. I'll get her ready this instant." "And Albert,” you tilted your head, “Don't tell Granny about this unless she asks." You said, watching as he glanced at yours and Harry's intertwined fingers for a split second.

"Of course, your Highness." By nodding at him, he was off to get the white horse ready.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Harry asked, looking down at you.

You looked up at him and a smile instantly was drawn on your face, "I'm not."

He chuckled, shaking his head at you. "Your grandmother hates me, doesn't she? The Queen hates me?"

You sighed, stepping closer and facing him, letting his hand fall from yours as you place your hands on his chest. "She doesn't know you to hate you. She just had," you paused, mind rushing to the plans your grandmother had for you that were the reason behind the tension in the relationship between the both of you, growing uneasy to tell Harry just yet about the Prince she was persistent for you to marry. It was too early to let it slip like that. "She had some plans and dreams for me. But she'll come along when it's the right time."

"You know I don't want to be the reason to start issues with your family, right? I mean, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that I'm not the person your family wanted you to be associated with."

He was gentle. The emerald green colour that you loved so much was beautifully – almost – painted in his eyes that pooled with care and genuineness.

But despite that, the smile on your lips faltered a little. "Are you having second thoughts?"

Instantly, Harry replied. "No," he shook his head, "Told you I'm not scared, didn't I?"

You hummed, waiting impatiently as he leaned down, pressing lips on to yours in a soft kiss that had your insides fluttering.

"Your Hi-Oh," you pulled away, looking at Albert who blushed, diverting his eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry, your highness."

Yours and Harry's cheeks were tinted red as you stepped beside him instead, a small bashful smile on your faces. "It's okay, Albert."

"Noir is ready, your highness."

You grinned excitedly, holding Harry's hand and dragging him behind you inside the stable, giving a "Thank you!" over your shoulder. "Noir is the gentlest horse ever, you'll love her!"

"I haven't ridden a horse since I was so young." Harry chuckled, letting you drag him behind.

"Don't worry, she's friendly when I'm around."

You led him towards a place where you kept the costumes and other safety equipment. "Here," you handed him a brown helmet. "I'm sure there are boots your size."

After helping Harry with the equipment and wearing your own, the both of you walked out of the other end of the stable where you found one of grooms standing beside Noir.

"Good morning, Ken."

"Good morning, your Highness." He smiled, tipping his head.

"This is Harry." You smiled, watching as they greeted each other with a polite nod and a “hello.” Turning to look at Harry, he almost melted at the smile of excitement adorned on your face, "Do you need help getting on?"

Despite looking at the white horse you had talked to him for hours on end, taking it not only its beauty, but size, Harry shook his head.

Watching you gracefully get on the beautiful white horse's back, his hands seemed to grow clammy as you held the reins.

Almost as if he remembered his mother, Anne, taking him and his sister, Gemma, horse riding when they were younger, Harry was thankful that he remembered how to simply get on a horse, though not as graceful as the Princess before him.

He got on Noir's back who fidgeted in her place, only calming when you stroked her hair in assurance, "Easy now."

Harry was seated behind you, his chest to your back which was enough to have you feeling flustered and blushing but nevertheless, you slowly began riding your horse down the greenery. "And this, is Noir."

Harry smiled to himself, his hand stroking the white horse softly. "She's beautiful. Has she been yours for long?"

"Ever since I was 4. She was only a filly of one year when Grandpapa got her for me. This babe is 17 years old." You proudly stated, patting her head.

Amused, Harry let out a small whistle. "She's old."

Gasping feigned shock, you moved one hand to gently swat Harry’s knee, “Where are your manners?” Harry laughed, wrapping one arm around your waist.

“My apologies, dearest Noir.” He said dramatically, making sure his accent sounded thicker.

“Grandpapa has one that’s 23 years old." You giggled, glancing behind your shoulder at him.

"So, the entire family is into horses? I mean, I have seen it in the news of some of your family horse-riding but are they really into it?" Harry asked.

You nodded, "Pretty much. Will, Har, and I were trained when we were only 3. Although we don't ride horses now except for friendly polo matches but Noir here, is someone I frequently take a walk with. Has a special place in my heart." You smiled before giving him a shake of your head, "Enough about me, what's something you used to do back home in Cheshire? It's quiet there, isn't it?"

"It is. Quite peaceful. I actually used to work in a bakery." He sounded so happy about it, almost as if he was reminiscing. Deciding against telling him that you've been a fan for long and knew about the fact, you let him continue. "Barbara, who still works there, would always just pinch my bum. She's the sweetest old, child-at-heart, woman you can ever meet."

You laughed, "You know quite the cheeky people, huh? Even in your shows, your fans can be quite cheeky."

Harry laughed, "Facts,” he nodded as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “Think I can be, too.”

“Oh, I know alright.”

---

"I think-I think this one goes here," you attempted to put the piece of puzzle in your hand in one of the empty spaces as you sat cross legged on Harry's floor, the puzzle on the table in front of you, with Harry sitting right opposite, attempting to complete the picture with you. "Or not."

"I think we should've seen the picture, love." He chuckled, looking at the image you had created that was yet to be comprehendible.

"Where's the fun in that?" You shrugged, "There! We're done with the sky."

"I think it's a tree house, I'm not sure." Harry tilted his head, looking at what you both had finished so far. "Me, too," you nodded, "Like, that's the lad-" You were interrupted by Harry's doorbell, making you look up and towards it.

"I ordered Chinese while you were in the loo, hope that's okay." Harry smiled, standing up.

You tried to hide your shock – and excitement – by nodding, watching as he took his wallet and walked towards the door.

The sound of Harry's socks-clad feet against the floor made you straighten up and clear your throat, attempting to act natural, smiling slightly and looking at him.

"There we go," Harry smiled, putting the bag beside the puzzle you had been trying to complete for the past 40 minutes. He took out two boxes, unaware of your confused but curious face, your eyes traveling between the square boxes. "Chopsticks or fork?"

You didn't even know what was inside but since you knew how to use chopsticks, you answered the former which Harry handed you. He took his box closer to him, opening it, as if he was a natural and so used to it. You, on the other hand, remained wary and in place, eyes only set on the box that was supposedly yours.

As he was about to put the noodles in his mouth, Harry's eyes landed on you, closing his mouth and setting his chopsticks in the box when he noticed your confused face and your untouched box. "Do you not like Chinese, love?"

You hummed, your head snapping towards him. "Wh-what?"

He smiled, seemingly absorbing what his mind was telling him, "I asked, do you not like Chinese?"

You looked bashful; cheeks turning to a tint pink as you put a locket of hair behind your ear. "Well..."

"Y/N?" Harry's tone changed, leaning his head closer, "Have you-Have you never had Chinese?"

At this, it seemed like your entire face was pink. You let out a small groan, covering your face with your hands. "This is so embarrassing."

Harry chuckled in surprise before crawling towards you, "No, no," he took a hold of your wrists, prying them from your face. "Come on, look at me, please."

You let out a soft giggle, looking up at him. "Fine. I've never had-never had whatever that is. They don't allow things like that. Just McDonald’s if it’s a good day."

"So you've never had Chinese takeaway?"

"I just said that, stop making me repeat it." You groaned, looking down.

Harry laughed, wrapping his arm around your and bringing you closer to his chest, hugging you. "Awwwe, Y/N,"

"You're so annoying." You laughed, swatting his chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promise I think it's cute." He assured you, leaning back a little to have you look at him. "It's okay, means you get to try something for the first time with me. So what do you say? Want to give Chinese takeaway a chance?"

You nodded eagerly, looking back at the box and bringing it closer to you, "What's inside?" You looked at him right before opening it.

"Noo-"

"Hush, let me get surprised!" You grinned, opening the box, "Ooo, noodles." Harry chuckled, leaning on his palms and staring at you in amusement. "Is that- Oh, is that chicken?"

"You had sweet and sour chicken on our third date so I figured you'd like it." Harry answered casually, oblivious to the butterflies in your stomach at the fact that he remembered that tiny detail.

"Alright," you smiled, taking a hold of your chopsticks. "Let's do this." You took a hold of some noodles, glancing at Harry before you eat. "I'm so nervous."

Harry grinned, sitting straight and rubbing his hand on your back. "Come on, love. Give it a try." You nodded, putting the noodles in your mouth and slowly chewing so you could get every taste just right. "Well?"

Your eyebrows were raised as you chewed before swallowing, "Oh my God," You quickly dug in for another, making sure to try the chicken.

Harry grinned, wrapping both arms around your waist, "Like it?"

"Love it! What restaurant is that?”

---

You adjusted your brother's, Har's, polo collar as you sat in the car alongside him. "Guess what I had today."

"Hm?"

"Guess what I had today." You repeated impatiently, tugging on your simple and plain navy-blue blouse.

"What?"

"Chinese takeaway." You grinned, nodding as he laughed.

"And how was it?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It tasted heavenly! Have you tried it?"

He nodded, "The good ol' rebellion days."

You frowned, "Hey! Why didn't you bring me some?"

He laughed, raising his hands up defensively, "I'm sorry. I'm a fool. Didn’t want them having my neck for staining sweet little Princess Y/N by getting her fast-food that doesn’t go with her diet."

"That you are actually." You smiled, nodding.

"Wait," Your brother furrowed his eyebrows, leaning back the window, "How did you try it?"

"Uh," Your mouth hung open and your hand reached to scratch your temple. "You know, I was out and about this morning."

He hummed slowly, crossing his arms across his chest. "So instead of being saucy and cheeky with your boyfriend, you try Chinese takeaway?"

"One, he's not-not really my boyfriend and two, you want me to get saucy and cheeky with someone?"

"God, no, Y/N," He cringed, his face twisting in disgust. "Let's just, change topics."

You snickered, looking out the window to see your father's home, Clarence House. "We're here." You announce quietly.

Walking inside, you meet up with your oldest brother who instantly greets you with a kiss on the cheek. "Where's Pa?" You ask.

"He-"

"There you are!" William was interrupted by your father's excited and cheerful voice, making the three of you look towards him and Camilla walking towards you.

You grin, letting your father embrace you. "You look lovely, darling."

"Thank you, Pa." You rub his back for a second before pulling away, watching as he moved to greet Will. Camilla instantly opened her arms at you, making you smile as you let her pull you into a hug, feeling her kiss your cheek.

"Shall we get to dinner? Made your favourite, darling," Your father said, holding out his arm for you to link, "Shepherd's pie."

"This is why I love you." You joked, leaning your head on his shoulder for a second as you giggled.

"Only cares about food." William joked as you all walked towards the dining room. "You're my least favourite sibling." You joked, not looking at him.

"This is no way to talk to your older brother, Tiny." William teased you as the rest laughed at your banter.

"The only brother I have is my dearest Har here. I don't know you."

"Y-"

"For the love of God, you two!" Prince Charles laughed, putting his hand on top of yours.

As you took your seats on the table and began eating, it was natural for the family to joke over the smallest thing in the day – that, until one name was mentioned.

"Charles, when's Fred coming tomorrow?" Camilla asked, oblivious to what she started.

Your hand stopped midway, all heads turning to look at you except for Camilla who looked at your father. You let down your fork, looking up to look at Camilla. "If I may ask, who's Fred?"

"You know, Prince Fred." She said before taking a bite of her food.

You looked at your father who sighed and laced his fingers together on the table, avoiding eye contact. "I wasn't aware of your friendship with Prince Fred, Pa."

The tension in the air was thick and enough to have your brothers quietly let down their utensils and look at your father, waiting for an explanation.

"Darling, your grandmother especially requested this dinner with the young man."

"My grandmother requested a lot of things, Pa," You chuckled half-heartedly, "Like marrying him."

"Y/N, I-"

"You told me I can control my own life," you started, shaking your head in disbelief. "What was that then, huh? Were you getting my hopes up for nothing?"

"Of course not, Y/N! Listen, Y/N, it's-" he sighed, closing his eyes momentarily before looking at you, "It's complicated."

"Complicated?" You asked in disbelief, furrowing your eyebrows, "It's my life!" You laughed bitterly in shock.

"You have to understand that it's not easy to change your grandmother's mind and Fred's family is entirely depending on the marriage. We gave them a word years ago, Y/N." He spoke softly, something that contrasted what you felt, “This is politics, darling, and politics is messy.”

You slumped in your seat in disbelief, looking down at your lap for a second.

"I think we should all calm down a little." Your brother, Har suggested gently, glancing between your father to you.

You looked up after taking a breath, tilting your head to look at your father. With a calm and collected voice, you spoke, "I'm not marrying anyone I'm not in love with and no one is changing my goddamn mind." With that, you stood up, your chair screeching as you pushed it back, eyes set on your father, “It’s your word against mine.” And with that, you stormed out of the room, Har instantly standing and jogging after you.

William sighed, rubbing his face with his hands before looking at his father who rested his hand on his temple in distress. "This is unfair to her, and you know it.”

“Your grandmother believes this will strengthen the ties between our family Fred’s! It was agreed on ever since your sister was a child.”

“Well she’s not anymore, is she?” William replied, tossing his napkin on the table before standing up and walking away.

#Long overdue!#the royal series #harrylilies #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x princess #harry styles series #harry styles au

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jamaiskookie · 4 years ago

Text

meet me in your memories (knj)

✂︎ pairing: memory traveller namjoon x gender neutral reader

✂︎ wc: 11.8k

✂︎ TW// car crash, mentions of death, crying, mental health, mental breakdowns, spoilers for frozen 1?? um, vomiting, mentions of PTSD, three seconds of family drama, memory loss

✂︎ notes: a little gift from me for being away so long <3 luv yall also ignore how short and shitty this is!!! ignore it!!!!!

✂︎ synopsis: namjoon is a memory traveller - he is thrusted back and forth into his world and the world of his memories, forced to re-enact his past experiences. but he doesn’t recognise you, who keeps showing up in his memories. why doesn’t he remember you? why can’t he recall any of these scenes if they’re supposed to be his memories? and why does it always feel like he’s forgetting something?

he comes to find out that he would choose you over and over again, in whatever lifetime or world he’s in. because he always returns to you.

✂︎ fic tunes: "eight"- iu (prod. & feat. suga) but you're at your favorite secret spot after a long day by neptjoon

masterlist asks

The road is slippery and Namjoon cranes his head out to look at the window. Rain splattering everywhere, he notes worriedly. He hopes that nobody crashes. The bus driver sitting about three meters in front of him is humming a melody to a song he doesn’t know nor recognise. While listening to the poor man hum the off beat tune, Namjoon sits in silence, wondering how sad it must be to drive a bus with no passengers but himself.

Suddenly, his stomach drops and his head spins, and this time Namjoon is certain it’s not from the rain or the driver’s subpar driving. He lurches forward, watching as the rain knocks against the window and falls in thick ribbons.

Click.

In an instant, Namjoon’s world collapses around him and he is thrown into his mind.

Seoul is sweltering hot - hot like he’s never felt before. Namjoon reaches up to clutch his head, which is still spinning, and finds himself standing in a pair of light washed baggy jeans and a sleeveless tee shirt, unlike the padding coat and thick boots he had on just a moment ago.

“Namjoon!” Someone squeals behind him and his heart jumps. He jumps around, facing you and the view of hot street food stalls and tall buildings behind you. Suddenly, his hand is reaching out to grab onto yours and you smile softly.

He hears his own voice ring out, clear as day: “Don’t run. I was looking for you.”

“Psh.” You wave off his concern, handing him a shiny golden hotteok. You hold an identical one in your fist, so he accepts it and murmurs his thanks, tearing apart the pancake and stuffing it into his mouth. Sweet, hot honey and small pieces of walnut flood into his mouth, and Namjoon is momentarily surprised. Science states that you cannot taste or physically feel anything in your dreams.

But Namjoon already proved that wrong long ago.

He takes you by hand and drags you over to a shelter, for some rest, apparently uninterested in your cries of wanting more tteokbokki or some Chinese food. He flings you over to his side and places his hand over your shoulder, while you both silently devour your hotteoks.

“This was a nice date.” You mumble tentatively, and oh. That’s what this is? A date? He wants to turn around and ask you for your name. Where are you from? Why am I here again? He wants to scream it out until his lungs hurt and he gets an answer that makes sense, but no matter how much he tries, his throat will not allow those words to tumble out of his lips.

Why don’t I remember you?

Instead, he replies: “Yeah, it was. This was fun.” He tilts his head down to smile at you and Namjoon finds himself nervous. Nervous enough that his hands are shaking against his will, but he tells himself that the sweat and the nervousness are all side effects of the swampy heat this summer.

You beam at him and Namjoon thinks you’re an angel. You lean up onto his chest to place a soft kiss onto his lips and Namjoon thinks about when he’s going to be thrown back out of his head.

“Wanna go home?” He asks, nudging at the sky, which is already filled up with first streaks of the sunset. Purple hues and pinks and blues that all blend together nicely. You watch the sky for a moment.

“Never.” You offer no explanation after that and Namjoon doesn’t pry. He feels like he understands you, which is scarier than any other encounter he’s faced, in real life and in here. You stare up at him more intensely, and a shudder of fear runs down Namjoon’s back. “I just want to stay here forever,” You enunciate, like you want him to remember this. “Just Y/N and Namjoon.”

Something tugs in his chest and Namjoon screams in his head, no. Longer. Not now. He slips away, gone, disappeared from the world before he can even tell you how pretty your name is. And he awakens back at the bus, where the driver is shaking him and yelling at him to get out.

Namjoon walks home in the rain, yelling out your name in happiness until his neighbours come over politely asking him to shut the fuck up.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N… Y/N?” He keeps repeating the name over and over again, enough to make Seokjin annoyed, who has moved away from Namjoon’s desk to the sofa in his office just to escape the random spiel that Namjoon is hurriedly rushing through.

“I can’t find a single Y/N in here!” Namjoon cries frustratingly, and the corners of Seokjin’s eyes soften in something that is either pity or empathy. He discards his non-fiction novel about drag queens and wigs to come over and clap a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“My friend, my crazy, idiotic, slightly insane friend.” Seokjin bends down. “You’ve checked all your yearbooks, social media, archives, newspapers… Have you perhaps considered that this person wasn’t that important? Just a passing stranger?”

“No.” Namjoon shoots down stubbornly. “They appear far too often for them not to be important.” So Seokjin shrugs, leaving Namjoon to, once again, search through the Facebook friends of a friend of a friend of a friend.

But no Y/N’s pop up, and he’s wondering if Y/N was just a nickname. Was it even your real name? With a sigh and one single (rather impressive) agitated brow wave, he lets go and spills. He tells Seokjin about how he finally learned your name, about the places you’ve been together and how much you adore street food.

He appreciates Seokjin for being a good friend, for sitting there and not interrupting to call him a crazy person, even if he is most certainly thinking about it in his head. Because Seokjin, at least, knows about a miniscule part of Namjoon’s tragic life. He doesn’t understand, but he gets it, and that’s all Namjoon needs in a friend.

He doesn’t tell Seokjin about how soft and pillowy your lips feel against his, he doesn’t tell you how much he longs to do unspeakable things to you when you show up in those blue short shorts. He definitely doesn’t tell him how much he loves your name.

Seokjin suggests a number of things. That perhaps you are a character from long ago, or maybe a passing stranger Namjoon once had a summer fling with. You may be someone long forgotten like a mutual friend in high school or college. He also suggests a psychiatric hospital to screw his head back on (as a joke, Namjoon’s pretty sure.)

But none of those seem right. Namjoon does his best to explain, he really does. For an award winning journalist and aspiring writer, he does just about a terrible job of trying to string his words together. Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose and falls back onto the sofa, already spacing out. Namjoon weakly cries out that he knows you. He really does - he just doesn’t remember how, or why.

Like a puzzle with a few missing pieces.

He wonders when and if the missing pieces will ever make their way over to him.

Namjoon gives up and flops down onto the sofa next to Jin, who squeaks out various protests about how heavy he is and how stupidly huge his arms have gotten after he started working out, along the lines of comparing him to Jungkook and calling him a gym rat.

As usual, Namjoon doesn’t listen.

It’s difficult to explain the feeling of falling to someone who hasn’t experienced it. The cursed Click echoes out and suddenly, the world spins around, the axis breaks and he’s physically thrown into another time, another place… another memory that he can’t seem to recall. His stomach lurches, his head hurts and there’s a small breeze flowing in.

For a short moment, the loops of space and time are completely open to him. He can’t see it, but he can feel it. It flips his mind completely upside down and boom. He’s in a specific, random time and place. His body feels light, and every step he takes, he can physically feel it: He doesn’t belong here. He isn’t supposed to be here. Everything feels different. Even the air is more smoky, because something in this world is suddenly wrong, and it’s him.

The next time he meets you, he is in just about the worst place to fall. Sitting in a press conference, his stomach drops and he’s dreading the fall. Namjoon can already hear his boss screaming at him, and he desperately tries to root himself to his seat, typing whatever the assemblyman is yapping on and on about. About farming and agriculture and tax cuts…

Click.

He can distantly hear the assemblyman candidate talk about corrupt government workers as he’s thrusted out of his world and into another.

The memory he has the pleasure to be in this time is something not too unfamiliar. For a second, he thinks if this is just a normal day of him in his cramped, tiny city apartment. Until he turns around and realises you’re lying right next to him, sound asleep and nuzzling into the side of his neck.

The air is crisp. It’s spring, not winter anymore, and he can hear the flower petals outside his apartment complex falling lightly on the ground. This, Namjoon thinks, may just be the best memory he’s been in. The press conference and his life and his boss slips his mind and he cradles you in his chest, holding you closer and closing his eyes shut.

“Mm?” You mumble, half asleep. “You’re suffocating me.” You hoarsely call out, and Namjoon releases you with an insincere apology. He brushes the hair out of your hair and grins, framing you in his head. He reaches to his alarm clock, which is right next to his bed as it always is to check the time.

April 1st, 2017.

Oh god, Namjoon winces. This means he still has that god awful haircut right now. He reaches up to feel his head, and sure enough, the horrible slicked back bleached hair is still there, an unfortunate result of his friend Hoseok daring him to drunk dye his hair.

“You’re awake?” He asks you, and you nod slowly.

He wonders if this memory precedes or follows the one he had with you last time, and he desperately hopes things are going in chronological order. He wants to know you just as much as you know him. Namjoon naively prays to whatever deity that controls his dreamworld: Please follow things step by step, follow the clock.

You roll around, saying something he can’t really catch. He asks you what you said and for the first time today, you peel open your eyes directly facing him. Namjoon’s heart almost falls out of his ass, seeing your eyes bore into his own.

“Where’s my morning kiss?” You ask cutely, nudging his nose with your own button nose.

“Right here.” He finds himself saying, leaning in to close the inches in between your two faces. You taste like hotteok, even early in the morning. You taste like a spring day and a never ending forever. As your lips capture his and his everything is consumed by thoughts of you, Namjoon begs himself to kiss you harder.

His past self declines politely, and Namjoon thinks about whether this counts as himself being controlled if he himself is still controlling what he says and does.

In that moment, listening to your slow breathing and someone across the street playing simple, melodic piano chords, Namjoon tells himself: Do not ever forget April 1st, 2017. You rise from the bed and some form of protest bubbles up from Namjoon’s mouth, to which you just laugh and drag him out of bed with the excuse of wanting breakfast.

You push him into the bathroom, where he expects to meet his sad single grey towel and foggy mirror. You push him in front, and he cringes at the sight of his hair in the mirror. You sigh.

“Calm down. The blonde looks sexy. You can dye it back black later.” He laughs, because it’s clearly not very sexy. For once, his past self is doing exactly what the current Namjoon is pleading him to do. Does it count as reliving your memories if someone else was living through them originally? But, he reminds himself while you hand him a green toothbrush and squeeze a dollop of toothpaste on both your toothbrushes, this is him. He lived through this once and he is just taking a trip down memory lane.

The person who lived through this before was him.

He has to remind himself many more times before it sinks in.

You brush your teeth next to him, fluffing your hair and squinting in the mirror to wake yourself up. Without a second of hesitation, Namjoon brings the toothbrush up and starts to brush his teeth. Nothing has ever felt more domestic or right than this, despite the tentative steps and heavy lead feeling in his throat telling him he still isn’t supposed to be here.

You spit out toothpaste in the sink to gargle your mouth and Namjoon mimics you exactly. Somehow, you find yourselves in the kitchen, giggling while making some sort of french toast with an abundance of cinnamon floating through the air. Which makes Namjoon cough and makes you laugh even harder.

“This is a perfect morning.” You say, peering out the window to watch the city life slowly bustling to life. People scrambling out their doors, ushering their children or pets with them. People you don’t recognise going on walks or runs. Mailmen and delivery people dropping off packages and people yelling into their phones as they hurriedly walk along the sidewalk.

And you and Namjoon, calmly staying in your pajamas while frying toast on the pan.

“Is something burning?” You ask, sniffing the air, and Namjoon’s blood runs cold.

“Oh, shit!”

You smile and shake your head while Namjoon attempts to save the blackened piece of bread to no avail. He catches sight of the corners of your mouth lifting, even as you chastise him about watching the stove and ranting on about how you’re never going to trust him in the kitchen again. Namjoon watches your pink lips, stained with a brown mudge of cinnamon french toast mixture, which lifts up and your head falls back, hair flowing around your head like a halo.

Your laugh plays out in front of him in slow motion, and absentmindedly, he thanks that deity he prayed to for slowing this moment down. Because if there’s anything he yearns most to remember, it’s the way you laugh. A chuckle makes its way out of his own throat as well, and he’s not sure who’s in control at the moment.

Himself or himself in the past?

Either way, they both did the right thing. Namjoon forgets. He forgets the life he has back home, he forgets Seokjin’s warnings, he forgets that he has at least a hundred articles waiting for him at work to be written. He forgets that this world is nothing but a chance for him to follow the footsteps of what he once did, with no control to say or do anything he wishes to do himself.

But, oh, he really can’t bring himself to care.

Those piano chords from before blend together beautifully, and you scrape the black toast into the garbage can, still teasing him relentlessly, and oh. Oh, this is what it means to have a home. You made this junk of a house into a home, and he feels like he has to return here. This is where he’s meant to return to, everyday. Each time.

You turn around after discarding the toast and with a bright smile, you ask him to kiss you again. Namjoon thinks that he doesn’t ever have the capability to deny you when you smile like that, so he complies and crashes his lips onto yours.

The lead, heavy feeling in his throat is still weighing him down. Except Namjoon isn’t sure whether it’s weighing him down to this world or the real world.

The cursed deity pulls him back, pulling him through the time and space back to his own responsibilities and life. His heart is wrenched out and he reaches out, trying to grasp your hand for the last time. He falls back to his own world in a hospital bed and an IV attached to his arm with half a piece of french toast dangling in his mouth and another promise he makes with himself to meet you again with a smile on his face.

Memories… memories that he’s lived through but can’t remember. Memories he slips into to live momentarily through the actions and words of his old self.

Somewhere along the line of diving back and forth his own life and this past one, he has forgotten which is which.

“Most likely due to exhaustion. Lack of sleep, lack of rest. It’s quite common with working young adults, workaholics. I’m putting him on medical leave for the rest of the week. He needs a rest - He needed it yesterday. Don’t worry too much, Mrs. Kim. A long nap and a meal or two will fix him right back up.” Namjoon groggily registers the white walls and beeping noises, the chatter of doctors and nurses rushing around.

He’s in a hospital, and a rush of fear runs straight through his blood. He sits up to eye his mother, sitting next to him and holding his hand. She shushes him, laying him back down on the bed, but all he can do is panic.

“No, not here. Not here again.” He mumbles incoherently. His mother puts a hand over his eyes, shushing him again and telling him softly to go back to sleep. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, he wants to get out of here. But his eyelids are already feeling heavy and he weakly fights against his body, but before he can even process it, his eyes are shut and he is asleep.

Seeing her son close his eyes and drift off to sleep, Mrs. Kim turns back to the doctor.

“I’m not surprised,” She starts. “He’s always worked himself to the bone. But that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about his brain.” The doctor cocks his head and looks through the papers which are clipped to a clipboard in his arms.

“Ah, yes. I see he was in a car accident a few years ago.” Doctors are some of the most heartless people, and you can always tell how experienced a doctor is by how much sympathy they show. This doctor shows none at all, which must mean he’s been working for a long time.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Kim.” The doctor continues, peering over Namjoon’s sleeping body. “I see he suffered light effects after the accident. Selective amnesia, no external damages to the skull. He didn’t suffer as much. In fact, I believe the doctor in charge believed that the amnesia was mostly due to the shock of the event. But he’s received treatment for PTSD since then, right?”

Mrs. Kim nods.

“Good. Doctor Park also noted at the time that his amnesia actually didn’t affect much of his memory. He couldn’t remember distant relatives or kindergarten friends, but that seemed to be the extent of his amnesia. Oh,” The doctor slipped through the clipboard. “He also couldn’t remember certain knowledge about philosophers such as Freud, which he was, quote, ‘devastated over’ un-quote.”

Mrs. Kim stays silent.

“So, you don’t have to worry too much. Best thing your son could do for his well being is rest. And a therapist if he has a relapse or shows some symptoms such as sleep difficulties or nightmares, or physical signs like fatigue and nausea.”

Mrs. Kim nods. “Thank you, doctor.”

That’s it, and she turns back to her son, with her hand in his. She stays there, unmoving until he opens his eyes, mumbling incoherent questions and asking his mother why he is in the hospital again, demanding to be discharged immediately. Her heart breaks a little, small cracks form for her beloved son and she kisses him on the forehead, telling him he’d be out of here in no time.

“What did you see?” She asks quietly, and Namjoon is surprised. She never asks him about his memory walks. It’s taboo to mention it in his household. Not even his sister is comfortable talking about it. “Anything? At all? You passed out at a rather unfortunate time, I heard.” She continues.

“Nothing much.” Namjoon replies, lying through his teeth and trying to justify it with the sight of your laugh. He leans back and closes his eyes once more, bringing up his memories of you and your bedhead. He tries to fill the gap inside of him with thoughts of you, as if that can make up for the empty feeling that he’s forgetting something.

In the hospital, staring at a white ceiling and glaring lights, Namjoon is left to think about what’s happening to his head. During the end of his rather short stay, he comes up with a terrifying conclusion. One that scares him more than he could imagine, but it’s the only one that makes sense. He’s falling in love with you.

He voices out this concern to Seokjin when he visits after his mother leaves. Seokjin stays silent, mumbling out an apology that feels like the wrong thing to say. The elder boy can only look at his friend with sadness in his eyes, telling him that someone as great as Namjoon shouldn’t be suffering so much pain. Namjoon jokes that a witch must have cursed him when he was born.

None of the two friends laugh.

This routine continues on and on, without Namjoon dwelling too much on it. Which is so much unlike Namjoon, whose main personality trait is overthinking about the smallest things. He lets the flow of time and space take him wherever they wish to plop him down. He lets the evil deity toy with his heart and wrench him away whenever you smile the largest.

It hurts right after he is torn away from you, but he’s filled with so much joy in the moment that he can’t bring himself to do anything else about it. Even if he wanted to do something without it, he has no idea where on earth he might start.

Sometimes he questions the validity of his memories. What is real, what is fake? He still can’t answer, and this is what he spends most of his time wondering about. The memories he has with you don’t make sense. Those are large gaps in his life that he seems to have no recollection of.

He goes everywhere with you.

One day he showed up on November 5th, 2015.

The next day he jumped to August 23rd, 2017.

Another time, he was thrown into March 15th, 2016.

None of it makes sense. Are they not memories? He thinks. There’s no possible way he’s spent this much of his life with you and can’t recall any of it. What is real - the world he spends with you, or the world where he always returns to by default?

And yet, nothing else can explain these short periods of blackouts. Ever since one day in some horrible hospital, he’s gone under and pulled and thrusted into some land where he has no control over his own hands. Everything else makes sense. This world, everything else is accurate from the settings to the props, with one anomaly in his memory.

A character who goes by the name of Y/N.

He could go the science-y logic route that he so often frequents, come up with theories that can somewhat explain these periods of time. Theories that include explanations such as hallucinations, or that Seokjin’s right and he’s finally gone crazy. You’re just a figment of his imagination, that this is all in his head and he’s out of his mind.

But he rejects all those theories when he’s clicked into another memory. Somehow, he just understands. These are memories. These are memories he’s had with you, whether that was in a past life or in some sort of messed up alternate timeline where he’s actually happy.

Is this a gift or another curse from this stupid deity?

He has too many questions.

He cannot explain these memories using science, logic, common sense, or even using his own words. But in the moment, while you’re in his arms, he can feel it. He can explain it by describing the way you smell, like pancakes and fresh mint. He can explain it by describing the way you feel, like a warm marshmallow filling up his insides and consuming him.

It’s cheesy, cringier than Seokjin’s dad jokes, but only he gets it.

Namjoon is in his living room, switching channels on the TV and thinking about this when his stomach sinks again. He braces himself, and disappears.

Click.

Seoul is freezing cold. The air is light and he is sitting on a bench on his college campus, rubbing his hands together and zipping up his huge jacket over his sweater. Namjoon shudders, his body not yet used to the bite of the cold compared to the warm breeze he was just enjoying.

He sniffles, nose slightly red like some knockoff Rudolph and wanders around. His body pulls him to go to the right, despite the warm coffee shop being on the left. He shudders again and tries to protest, but his body won’t listen, standing up and walking over to the right with no particular destination in mind. Students are rushing around, complaining about the cold and talking about their next party or study session.

Namjoon pulls himself forwards, and thank god this version of himself still has terrible tolerance for the cold, because he reaches up and pulls his beanie down over his ears, still wandering around aimlessly. Where are you going? Namjoon wants to scream out frustratingly.

His brain doesn’t reply and Namjoon sulks.

Eventually, he is pulled over to another bench, outside in the cold, and he sits down, deeply resenting himself and wondering why on earth he just stood up from one bench to walk to another one. If anything, it’s colder here. He watches the students that pass by for a minute or two, thinking that this is the most boring memory he’s ever been in.

There is no snow falling, but almost everything on campus is lined with a sheet of ice or cold steam. Namjoon nuzzles deeper into his own clothes, cursing himself for not being able to go buy another sweater or something to fight the extreme cold.

Suddenly, you appear in front of him and Namjoon perks up. There you are. He thinks. Finally. You come over and sit down, holding something in your hands. He smiles, waiting for you to speak up and greet him with a kiss that will surely warm him up, but you silently sit next to him, ignoring him. Namjoon urges himself to say something, but instead, he continues to watch the students bustling through campus grounds without looking at you.

Are we fighting? Is Y/N mad at me?

This is excruciatingly frustrating, Namjoon bites his tongue and thinks. Why can’t he just say something? Abruptly, something lands on his jacket with a splat and he straightens up, snapping his neck towards you, who is looking at the yogurt splat on his jacket with a look of terror.

“Oh my gosh!” You squeak out, quickly setting your yogurt aside and reaching for some tissues in your purse. “Oh, god, oh god, I’m so sorry. Please, let me-” Namjoon frowns, taking his hands out of his pockets to thumb at his jacket, debating whether he wants to take it off or not.

You lean over, pawing at his jacket and wiping the yogurt off of his jacket. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, don’t worry.” Namjoon says, chuckling. He reaches for another tissue, helping you get the yogurt off of him. “It’s no big deal.” The yogurt is mostly wiped off and you side eye him with the unmistakable look of guilt filling your eyes. Namjoon laughs again.

“It’s fine, really! No, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m literally so sorry. Do you want me to pay for dry cleaning? Laundry? I can, um, wash it for you! I’m not the best at laundry, but it’s the least I could do?”

Namjoon briefly wonders why you’re being so polite.

“No, it’s fine.” The words tumble out his mouth again before he can process it. “Really, this jacket is old, anyway.” Not really, Namjoon thinks. It feels really new. “But who the hell eats cold yogurt in this kind of weather?” He jokes. “You sure you’re not a demon?”

You freeze, terrified before realising he was cracking a joke. “Oh. Hah! Yeah, no, I guess I just really like yogurt.” You offer lamely, and you break out into a small giggle. “Yeah, I guess I kind of am a psycho for eating it right now. It’s freezing today.”

“God, tell me about it.” Namjoon says, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

“Thanks for not going bonkers on me. This jacket looks insanely expensive.”

“Not really.”

“I’m Y/N.” You greet, holding a hand out for him to shake. I know, Namjoon thinks with a secret smile, but everything makes sense now. You don’t know him yet. To you in this moment in time, he’s just a random stranger who didn’t blow up on you after spraying some yogurt onto you. To him, you’re… you’re…

“Oh, um, I’m Namjoon.” He says, hurriedly taking a hand out of his pocket to shake your outstretched hand. Your fingers meet and Namjoon swears a small zap just went through his hand.

“Namjoon. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.” You say with a small smile, yogurt already long forgotten on the bench beside you two.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He says in return, even though he doesn’t mean it. He already knows you, he knows you better than everyone. He knows your favourite food is Korean street food, and you always wake him up with kisses and your favourite colour is periwinkle and you absolutely hate abalone with more passion than he’s ever seen in his entire life.

But this is your first time seeing him, ever, he reminds himself. This is your meet cute. This single moment set off the events in the next god knows how many years. This is the first time he ever had your name grace his tongue. This is the first time you’ve seen him.

Another moment to treasure. You let go of his hand, after realising you two have been shaking hands for much longer than the socially acceptable rate of hand shaking. Blushing, either from the cold or humiliation, you sit, turn back around, grabbing a hold of your yogurt once more.

Suddenly, Namjoon finds himself blurting out: “Hey, you wanna go get some coffee?” You look over curiously, pointing to yourself like you can’t believe he’s asking you out, because you don’t know that you’re all he ever thinks about at any given moment in any given day. “You’ll probably freeze your ass off if you keep eating that yogurt.” He jokes, pretending like this is all because he’s caring about how cold you are and not how cute or incredible or kind you are.

“Sure.” You say, nodding shyly. He stands up, leading you to walk over to the left where the campus coffee shop is. Along the way, you throw the yogurt cup in the trash.

“You can’t bring food brought from outside into a shop, right?” You ask.

Namjoon smiles. “Yeah.” He stays there until night takes over the sky and one single twinkling star in the sky is signalling that it’s time to go home. Possibly the longest time he’s ever spent in a memory. He keeps glancing at the clock, praying that he gets one more minute with you, one more second, one more moment.

At any time, he could be pulled out of this world, and he needs to make the most of it. You tell him about your childhood bedroom and your major. You tell him about the love you have for pancakes, and how much you want a puppy even though it’s prohibited in the on campus dorms. He nods, pretending like this is all new information even though it’s not, and he’s known all of this for the longest time. He knows you better than you know yourself, which he keeps to himself.

In return, he tells you about his own childhood bedroom, which was adorned with posters of western hip hop rappers. He tells you about his passions for writing and music, that if he didn’t major in journalism, he’d be studying music production in school. He tells you that he’s obsessed with philosophy, and in all honesty, is a bit of a nerd.

Instead of laughing or pulling a face, you nod and smile, saying that you think he should tell you more about philosophy on a second date.

You leave the coffee shop with a small goodbye, and even though he desperately wants to, Namjoon can’t kiss you.

He gets pulled back after you disappear pass the corner of the street, and the world morphes into a huge motion blur. When he gets pulled back into his living room, the TV is playing late night TV shows already. Namjoon checks the time. He was pulled in for five hours, the longest he’s ever been in that world.

After that, no matter how much more he prays and begs, he never stays any longer than that.

Three days later, Namjoon suddenly pops into Hong Kong, which is hotter than anything he’s ever felt. The streets are heavy with people, squabbling in cantonese while selling raw meats in a wet market. The sun is glaringly bright, and Namjoon starts to sweat almost instantaneously. Taxis and huge buses drive past, Namjoon jumps to a side only to find a vast ocean. He’s at the harbour front.

The smell of food, of egg tarts and pineapple buns and meat dumplings along with other Hong Kong delicacies waft through the air, combined with the salty air of the sea. It makes for a strange combination that confuses his senses but works nonetheless.

He thought he knew a city like Seoul, but this is a true city. This is busy and fast paced like he’s never even seen before. People shove each other aside to catch the bus, dogs are yapping everywhere and he soaks it all in before the thought enters his head.

What the hell is he doing in Hong Kong?

It’s like every time he wonders aloud, you pop up. “I’ve been looking for you.” You say, echoing the words he said to you that day in the streets of Seoul.

“I was exploring!“ He says defensively, and you roll your eyes.

“Come on.” You say, walking along the harbour front.

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” Namjoon asks, the words spilling out and surprising himself. Are you mad at him? You’ve never been mad at him before, not in the memories he’s seen. He hasn’t ever seen you fight with him, and immediately, he wants to apologise, fix things before he’s pulled back out and he has to live with the guilt and overthinking of whether you’re still mad at him for the next week.

“Can’t believe you’re mad at me during our vacation.” Namjoon says, and that’s why he’s in Hong Kong, he realises. He’s on vacation. How strange. Namjoon thinks back to when the last time he took a break from work and the only thing he can think of is when that doctor put him on medical leave not too long ago. Oh no, you’re mad at him on holiday?

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You retort back, and Namjoon has never heard your voice this curt. “Just sit around pretending like everything's okay?”

“What do you want me to do?” Namjoon replies. “You act like this is my fault!”

“It is your fault!” You cry out indignantly, and Namjoon knows that, but why? What did he do? What did you do? “Is this even a vacation?”

“Yes!” Namjoon cries out again in response, and you shake your head.

“You promised, Namjoon.” You say like it’s a warning.

“Yes, I know,” Namjoon says, even though he doesn’t and really, what on earth did he do? “But this is out of my hands! I can’t just say no, you’re not looking at this from my point of view.”

“You’re not looking at this from my point of view!” You argue back, and Namjoon looks around, realising that this squabble is attracting a small crowd of chinese people, gathering around to watch the free entertainment along the sidewalk of Victoria harbour. He awkwardly laughs, raising his hand and bows, a universal sign of apology, grabbing your hand and walking to the other direction.

“Come on, I’d rather not have the whole city witness our fight.”

“Oh, so this is a fight now?”

“What? Yes!” Namjoon says exasperatedly. “How else would you classify this argument?”

Once he makes it to somewhere with at least a sliver of privacy, he turns around with his brows furrowed and a glare etched on his features. Why do you look so angry? Namjoon chastises himself. Just relax, relax, relax. As usual, his body doesn’t listen.

“Why are you so mad at this?” Namjoon asks, and feels a flow of relief go down his spine. Finally.

“It’s not just this instance, Joon. I know work is important, but sometimes it feels like you put literally anything else above me! Like last time? You bailed on our date, like, at least twice. You keep saying you can’t say no, but you can. You have that right, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s heart softens a little bit. His workaholic tendencies ended up biting him in the ass after all. Sighing he rubs the back of his neck, eyes glued to the floor. “I’m not prioritising work over you, baby.” He tries to explain, and tries to ignore how his heart sinks when your eyes turn stony at the sound of the pet name he often uses to address you.

“It’s just important to me as well, okay? It’s not my fault my boss heard I was going to Hong Kong and insisted I come to interview some investors about Hong Kong’s economy.” He explains slowly. “It couldn’t take more than a single day to get everything organised and tidied up.”

“But-!” You huff angrily, spitting out your words. “You don’t understand! You keep doing this, Namjoon. You keep working, working, working. It’s been this way since college. It’s like you’ll die if you just take a break to come talk to me. I even went over to your office to have lunch with you last week and they told me you were in a meeting.”

“It was important!” Namjoon insists and he can feel things sinking and getting worse and worse with every word he says. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? You can’t expect me to put you in front of all of my responsibilities. I’m sure you have things you can’t give up for me too.”

Hearing that felt like a slap to the face to both you and Namjoon, and he’s screaming at himself internally, why would you say something so, so, stupid?

“Excuse me?” Your broken voice rings out and Namjoon’s accusatory finger falls.

“Wait.” He mumbles, fumbling with his hands. “Wait, I didn’t mean that. Wait, I-”

“Fine!” You yell angrily. “You think nothing’s more important than work? You think I haven’t given up anything for you, Kim Namjoon? Because I’d quit and give up anything for you, you asshole.” You bite out, tears desperately trying not to fall. “You fucking asshole.” You say, before turning back around to weave through the crowd.

“No, wait, baby!” He calls out, and even he knows that he’s messed up. Messed up big time. That was more hurtful than any cuss word or insult he could’ve ever said. “Kim fucking Namjoon, you idiot.” He mumbles to himself. Seeing you cry is more painful than anything else in the world, Namjoon thinks. He’s not ever going to see that sight again if he can help it.

He walks forward, trying to find you. Maybe you went back to the hotel, or went to look at the sea to clear your head. He thinks he sees the back of your head for a second, and he reaches forward, clutching at air. He’s about to cry, and Namjoon has never seen himself be more pathetic.

“Oh no, where are you?” He murmurs to himself like a crazed man. What if you were hurt somewhere? He needs to know you’re safe, he needs to know you’re okay, he needs to make everything better. With each step, the lead feeling in his throat grows heavier and heavier until he feels like it’s sunk to his chest. He wants to kneel down, he wants it to stop hurting, but he can’t.

He must aimlessly follow his shell to do whatever he is doing now.

The lead feeling continues to grow, and Namjoon feels like he’s suffocating. He’s not supposed to be here, he reminds himself. But he has to find you first, then he can leave. Then he can go, but where are you? He wants to cry, he wants to breathe.

Namjoon tells himself to gasp for air, but he cannot. He tells himself if this is the last time he ever sees you, he needs to see you smile. He needs to see you laugh.

Like the pattern in the rest of his meaningless life, an evil deity always pulls him away from the ones he loves when he needs them most. He feels the lead feeling being lifted and pure panic races to Namjoon’s head. He tries to croak out no. He tries to resist, he shoves people aside and calls out your name. But no one answers him, and the cruel deity laughs at his demise.

He is too weak, too weak to control himself.

Namjoon is plucked out of the world and transported back to his bedroom with the threads of time slowly ravelling and tangling themselves around his neck, all while he reaches forward, only to grasp at air and pretend in his head that everything’s alright.

When he reaches his bedroom and wakes up, he stumbles into the bathroom and vomits, all while longing for the warmth of your lips.

Walking around dazedly, Namjoon somehow manages to make his way to Seokjin and Jimin’s apartment, knocking and hoarsely asking them to open, open up please. Because he’s not sure he can hold on to another night alone. Jimin opens the door instantly and catches Namjoon in his arms, frantically calling for Seokjin to come fast.

They lay him on the couch, hearts slowly breaking and trying to convince themselves their friend will be fine as they watch Namjoon whimper in his sleep.

Namjoon wakes to the smell of breakfast, of bacon on the stove and Jimin chattering around while watering his plants. He gets up, headache pounding and throat sore. Seokjin wordlessly hands him a few pills and a glass of water, while Jimin plates up breakfast, placing the sausage, eggs and toast separately on the plate because Namjoon can’t stand it when food on his plate touches.

Silently, the three friends eat. Nobody speaks until Namjoon clears his throat and looks up.

“Thank you.“ He whispers.

“What are friends for?” Jimin says.

Namjoon wonders why he’s got such amazing friends. Jin replies that he was born perfect and God created him like this, so Namjoon shouldn’t dwell too much on it. Jimin and Namjoon both throw a spoon of scrambled eggs in his direction simultaneously, high fiving without missing a beat when Jin lets out a protest of unjust behaviour.

As the three friends sit quietly, Namjoon says: “I think I’m going mad.”

“I’m glad you’ve realised.” Seokjin replies offhandedly.

“I don’t think I can keep going between these worlds. I think it’s making me lose my mind.”

Jimin stills. Seokjin stops washing the dishes and turns off the faucet.

“Do… do you know how to stop it?” Jimin asks hesitantly. Namjoon shakes his head, and Seokjin sighs, in deep thought, which is a strange and rare sight to see itself.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to figure this out together.” Seokjin says casually. Jimin agrees and the faucet comes back on, Seokjin going straight back to washing the pan he used to fry up the scrambled eggs. Jimin unplugs the toaster and Namjoon sits, smiling at his beloved friends.

“You can borrow some of my shirts.” Jimin calls from the bathroom. “You know, if you want to stay over a couple more nights. Feel free.”

“Make yourself at home and shit.” Seokjin mutters, waving his hand around sarcastically. Namjoon almost bursts out into tears of happiness, but he decides to hold it in until Seokjin doesn’t have access to his phone and won’t put Namjoon’s breakdown on instagram live.

The next day, the entire gang comes over, all with varying degrees of understanding what the hell is going on with Namjoon. For example, Yoongi pretty much knows as much as Seokjin does, who still doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Taehyung was just told Namjoon’s been feeling down because God knows that boy has a big mouth and definitely can’t keep a secret to save his life.

Seokjin supplies homemade snacks and burgers fresh off the grill, Yoongi brings over his unlimited Netflix and HBO account passwords he probably stole off of some innocent family member to watch Disney movies, Taehyung comes over with Yeontan clutched to his side because that’s the group's emotional support dog. Jungkook and Hoseok offer up their extensive alcohol collection and bring over some quality wines. Jimin, after a long three hours of consideration, gives up his lucky plushies and fluffy blankets to build a fort.

For one night, the seven boys crowds around the television, watching everything from The Lorax to Tangled to Frozen and bawling their eyes out when Anna turned to ice (spoiler alert!!!) For one night, the fully grown men all turn back into their 8 year old selves, playing video games and staying up as late as they wanted even though they all had responsibilities to tend to the next day.

When they all awake from their mega-sleepover the next morning, the remaining six friends all insist they just felt like watching Disney movies and drinking wine suddenly. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Namjoon’s been feeling a little off in the past few days.

Absolutely not.

Namjoon’s eyes brim with tears and he tackles all the boys to the ground in one incredibly coordinated group hug, ignoring Yoongi’s complaints of being anti-social and that his love language is not physical touch.

“Thanks, guys.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jungkook mutters. “Now could you please get the fuck off?”

“Never.” Namjoon says, muffled because he says it while his head is buried in Hoseok’s chest.

“Love you.”

“... Love you too.”

The next time he falls, Namjoon thinks he’s prepared. Ready, not to get attached, ready to make clear of what belongs in his world and what doesn’t, after lots of pep talks and therapy sessions with Seokjin and Jimin and Yoongi, who is surprisingly helpful with shooting down ideals of toxic masculinity and talking about mental health.

He’s wrong- he’s not ready, but he doesn’t know that yet.

Click.

He’s come to resent that stupid sound. In an instant, he’s dropped into a car, which is strangely familiar. You are next to him, driving, and thank goodness, because everyone knows Namjoon cannot drive. If he were dropped in the driver’s seat, things may have taken a turn for the worse.

“You want to play some music?” You ask, and Namjoon nods.

“Yeah sure, turn up the radio.” You reach over to flip a switch and a pretty tune fills the car, echoing and bouncing off the walls of the small vessel. You bring your hand down and interlace it with Namjoon’s, who is suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings.

“You’re driving, baby.” He says, and a great sense of relief floods back into his system when he sees you smile at the pet name. He hopes this moment is after the Hong Kong trip. He hopes he did the right thing and made up with you afterwards.

“We always do this. When there’s not many cars around, anyway.” You hum along with the music. “Nobody’s on the road tonight.” Sure enough, there are no cars in sight and Namjoon sighs, curling his hand tight against yours. He looks out the window.

“No stars tonight, either.”

You snort. “There are never any stars around the city, babe.”

“Ahh.” He huffs playfully. “Fuck global warming.”

“Fuck capatalism.” You add on, and he nods, wholeheartedly agreeing.

“I love you.” He murmurs.

“I love you too.” You reply with a sweet smile and Namjoon just realises that no, he’s not ready to let go of you, because his heart still flips like crazy when he hears you say that. He’s so unbearably, horribly, absolutely in love with you. Not in a creepy or obsessive way like he was probably in love with you a few months ago, but so in love with you.

He wonders why on earth he’s so drawn to you, but as usual, there’s no definite answers to his questions. Namjoon thinks about how he likes the way you cook pancakes, and how he likes the way you always reach down to pet a puppy no matter where you are or where you need to be. He loves the way you’d give up anything to defend the people you love. He admires your bravery and your courage. He admires the way you present yourself to the world.

He loves you simply because you are who you are, unapologetically and unashamed, which is something he never had the guts to do. But he gets pretty damn near to being fully and truly himself when he’s around you, so maybe that’s why he’s so in love with you.

Namjoon feels bad for a moment because he realises his love isn’t selfless or humble like the ones he sees on dramas and TV. His love for you is shamefully selfish, because he needs you more than anything else. He voices this out to you in a long speech while you keep your eyes on the road.

“I need you more than you think I do, Joon.” You say, while laughing, and Namjoon doesn’t know whether to feel offended or relieved.

“You think your love for me can trump my love for you?” He asks with his eyebrows raised.

“One hundred percent.” You drawl out, and this time, Namjoon’s offended.

“Excuse me? Who the fuck?” He asks, sitting up. You laugh bashfully, enamoured but mostly just entertained by your needy boyfriend who is very willing to prove how much more he loves you right now. “I love you way more than you love me!”

You laugh, your eyes still fixed on the road. “Oh no, please, we’re not arguing about this.”

“Yes we are!” Namjoon demands with a huge smile on his face. “How could you possibly think you love me more than I love you?” Your laugh only grows louder.

“I don’t even know if you’re being serious or just joking around anymore.” You say through bit back laughter.

“I’m being dead serious.” Namjoon softens for a bit, laying a hand on your thigh. “You’re my everything. You’re my future, you’re my present, you’re my past.” A part of you wants to tell him he’s being cheesy again, but the romantic in you who doesn’t want to hurt your boyfriend immediately shuts the realist in you up.

“That was sweet.”

“I try my best.”

You turn your head back to the road and he keeps his eyes on you. On the hoodie you’re wearing, which definitely doesn’t belong to you and he now has a certain inkling of where his missing hoodie went. He likes how it swallows you up. He likes that you have something of his on you.

Not as a weird mark of possession, but he likes that you’re comfortable with wearing something that essentially brands you as his. But you are his as much as he is yours and wow, Namjoon thinks in his head, is this the real Namjoon or the past Namjoon speaking? And his brain replies that it’s both.

“I love you.” He repeats, because as much as he seems to say it, he can’t seem to express how much he loves you (hint: it’s a large amount).

“I love you too.” You say right back.

He wants to say it more. He wants to say it better. He wants to repeat it until you get annoyed and tell him to shut up, he wants to let you know how much he loves you. But his lips are sealed, and he can’t say another word. Instead of what he wants to say, the words that come out his mouth are, admittedly, just as true.

“You’re pretty.”

You giggle. “Did you just realise?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “You’ve always been pretty. You were pretty on the day we met. You were pretty the day we fought in Hong Kong. You were pretty the first time you stayed over. You’re pretty when you cry, you’re pretty when you… I wanted to think of something that rhymes with cry, but it slipped my mind and now everything’s ruined.”

You laugh, a real, huge one this time. He can always tell when your laugh is real or not.

“Thank you.” You say. “For the record, you’ve always been pretty too.”

Namjoon leans back into his seat. “Damn straight.”

“When d’you think you first fell in love with me?” You ask, genuinely curious, and Namjoon thinks for a moment. He thinks about what the Namjoon in this moment would say, and he thinks about what the present Namjoon would say.

If he had verbal control, what would he say? That he fell in love with you during the very first memory he was thrusted in? But that wouldn’t be true, and that wouldn’t be honest. He fell in love with you during the memory of when you met? But that wouldn’t be true either. He fell in love with you in between memories, when all he could think about was the next time you could be in his arms, or how much he longed for your touch.

He tries to say that, he really does.

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is:

“I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s a specific moment. Maybe it was that time we went to the movies and watched Coco while crying over popcorn, or maybe it was that time we went to Disneyland.” Namjoon’s heart slouches, because he doesn’t know any of those moments. He hasn’t been in any of those memories.

“But I don’t think falling in love is a one moment, time stops kinda thing. I was always falling in love with you. From the time you spilled yogurt on my jacket to right now, where you’re asking me when I fell in love with you. I’m going to be falling in love with you tomorrow and the day after that, until the day where we shrivel up and die from old age.”

Oh, good answer, Namjoon thinks.

“Good answer.” You say. “I think I’d say the same thing.”

“Great minds think alike.” Namjoon sighs out.

Something strikes Namjoon’s heart. It’s not the lead feeling or the heavy weight he’s grown used to. It’s strange, like a wave of deja vu. And suddenly, Namjoon stops thinking. He glances over to the control board to look at the time, which proudly reads: December 3rd, 2018.

So that’s why he’s always had the feeling that these were memories. Why he was so adamant to believe these things really had happened to him. Even more strangely, what feelings strike him then is not panic, nor fear. It’s a strange flow of calmness that rushes through his veins. He looks over at you again, driving now with both hands on the steering wheel.

He wonders why the deity would make him witness something as cruel and horrible as this, and he gets the weird feeling that this will be one of his last memories to enter. Namjoon looks at the dark blanket covering the sky and sadly thinks that the deity could have at least placed a few stars in the sky on this night. As consolation, or perhaps an apology.

Something is ticking in the background, and Namjoon has no idea if it’s coming from the car or if he’s imagining it. Flashing memories go through his mind, so fast he can barely register them as images or moving pictures before they are gone again. Your smile, your laugh, your first date, your second date. The day he asked you to move in, the day you told him ‘I love you’ for the first time and he literally fainted.

The day he came to pick you up from work for the first time, the night where he first laid his hands on you and kissed all your worries away.

It comes fast and hurtles towards the two of you, but Namjoon doesn’t even see it coming because all he is looking at is you. Your face, your lips, your eyes, trying to engrave it all in his memory. You yelp out something to him, which he doesn’t hear. Floating images spin around both your heads and a high pitched screech rings out, a spark of orange lighting up like a stack of fireworks. The dark van shoots forward and collides into the driver’s seat.

The world collapses. It goes sideways, rotates then flips completely upside down, and the dark fog starts to eat up Namjoon’s eyesight. Oddly, nothing hurts. Perhaps because of the shock, or panic, but nothing on Namjoon’s body is in pain. Everything crashes, Namjoon’s head hits the window with force. Something breaks, glass cracks, people scream and he cannot tell which is which. Red and white flashes are all he can see before everything fades to grey and he can only reach around in the darkness, to find your hand.

He clutches onto your unmoving, still hand desperately, trying to calm his jumping heartbeat. Are those sirens in the background he hears or is that his imagination? Is that your voice he hears or is that a hallucination?

In the end, his final thought before leaving the world once again is a wish. A wish that he prays the deity will grant him. He hopes that in your final moments, you were not scared.

He falls.

When Namjoon arrives home, his entire body is numb. He doesn’t know where he is, nor what he was doing before he was clicked in. He opens his mouth and screams for a full minute without stopping.

It feels good in a fucked up way.

Namjoon has never been one for confrontation. Just ask his middle school bullies, who tormented him all they wanted because he wouldn’t do anything but put up with it. Just ask Mingyu from work, who keeps piling his unwanted projects and articles onto Namjoon because he never protests or complains to the higher-ups.

But while walking towards his childhood home with the birds chirping and his hands placed casually in his pockets, confrontation is all he can think about. He lets himself in the door; his mother never locks it and walks in calmly.

His mother is sitting on the couch, stitching up a sock which has a hole in it.

“Mom. I’m home.” He says softly, and his mother greets him normally. Namjoon leans on the wall and his mother stares at him strangely, calling him over to sit and have some fruit. He declines, telling her he won’t be staying very long. “That car crash that happened two years ago.”

The needle in his mother’s hand stills.

“They said I had selective amnesia, right?”

The needle picks up speed, stitching faster and faster, his mother’s hand moving faster than light.

“What did I forget again?”

“What did you remember?” His mother asks, never one to beat around the bush.

“Mom.” He says, firmly this time. “What did you do to me.”

The sock is torn apart in his mother’s hands. “Namjoon,” She starts and Namjoon already has a growing urge to shake the truth out of her. “When you got into that crash two years ago, you came out of it with very little injuries. We were all so relieved. When you woke up, you didn’t remember Y/N.” All that fills the air for another moment or two is the spongy sound of silence.

The gap in this family became clearer than ever to Namjoon. He thinks about how everyone must have been in on the secret, even his sister. And he was left to suffer, wondering why his life seemed so empty after forgetting something he couldn’t clutch onto.

“And what?” He demands, screaming and throwing his hands out of his pockets. “Do you think you can just keep something like that from me? The love of my life, and you just decide to erase them from my memory?” His mother stills and looks up at her son.

“You didn’t remember Y/N. You lost contact with all your college friends, and then when I asked the doctor how selective amnesia worked,” His mother cleared her throat. “Sufferers often forget some parts of their memory. Relationships, talents, skills, certain areas or certain people.” His mother looks up directly in his eyes. “Sometimes, especially after going through a traumatic event, people forget certain parts of their memory as a coping mechanism. To erase bits of pain and regret.”

“I thought,” Her voice breaks and her face twists in regret and bad memories. “I thought maybe by forgetting her, I’d be saving you from more pain and hurt. I just wanted you to stop hurting”

Namjoon held eye contact with his mother for three full seconds before collapsing and gasping for air, lying with his head on her lap. All words of scolding, anger. All the confrontational tactics and all the accusations he’d thought of shooting towards her had gone.

“Hurts.” He let out through large gasps of breaths. “Hurts, mom.” He lied there, with tears threatening to spill out his eyes for the rest of the night, with his mother caressing his hair and apologising to him with tears in her eyes.

“Miss Y/N. I miss Y/N.” He hiccups out, and his mother wipes away his tears, but it feels different from when you used to do it.

“I know, I know.” The woman looking down at her son wonders why she put him in so much pain. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” The night carries on like that, with the lights eventually dimming and the night covers up the light in the sky. The mother son pair repeat their grievances and apologies to each other until the sun comes back up, peeking through the curtains and extending out their warm embrace as if it wants to comfort the hurting humans.

It doesn’t take long for Seokjin and co to come knocking on his door, sent by his mother who must have filled him in on everything, judging from the looks on their faces. It only takes one single glance at his friends, tilting their heads and all asking to come in for him to burst into tears. Ugly crying, with snot coming out of his nose and eyes bloodshot red from the nightmares.

Jimin is the first to reach forwards and bring Namjoon into a hug. Soon after that, the six friends surrounded Namjoon, comforting him with the warmth of their arms and soft spoken words of encouragement.

“You did well.” Someone mumbles into his hair.

“We’re all proud of you.” Someone else says.

Namjoon’s sweater sleeves are sopping wet with tears when he asks the boys to help him get into therapy.

Things went on like that for another while.

Therapy isn’t as bad as Namjoon had thought it might’ve been. He wasn’t forced to be vulnerable or open up or confront his worst fears. He certainly didn’t want to tell the truth about the world he’s thrusted in, for fear of getting thrown out of the building and into a mental institution.

Even his mother didn’t believe him the first time he told her about it. She urged him to visit a doctor. How could a therapist who doesn’t even know him believe the nonsense he spouts? Even he himself wouldn’t believe himself if he hadn’t experienced it firsthand. Slowly, but surely, he began to open up, and to his surprise, there was no calling of hospitals or kicking him out. His therapist sat there and listened like everything he was saying was valid.

He started eating again, mostly because of Seokjin, stuffing his creations down everyone’s throats every two seconds, claiming he needs opinions on his new recipes even though Namjoon’s fairly certain that the past three dishes of spaghetti were the exact same recipe.

Namjoon started to workout again with Jungkook, much to the younger boy’s surprise and happiness. They talked about their own struggles while panting on the treadmill and spinner. Jungkook eventually tells him that he also has a secret he keeps from the rest of the guys, which is his high school sweetheart who broke his heart so horribly that he still feels hurt from it.

Jungkook told him to cheer up though, because most of the pain fades away with time. It’s still there, ever as present, but other things will become more important to you and cover up a scar or a wound with blooming flowers.

“Like us,” He said cheekily. “Your friends.”

He talked to Yoongi most days of the week about nothing in particular. He enjoys the time with Yoongi because he’s the only one who never walks on eggshells around him. He still pelts him with pillows and roasts the outfits on Rupaul’s Drag Race with him. Taehyung and Jimin even helped him adopt a dog, an furry white Eskimo named Rap Mon which is literally now Namjoon’s entire life.

Would likely kill all of his friends if one of them hurt his precious baby.

Life is good, Namjoon learns. He gets better at his job. He never forgets you, but things seem to hurt less. But he gets relapses sometimes. Some days he wakes up screaming about the stupid lead filling up his throat. Sometimes he gets nightmares so intense he has to take medicine.

Therapy isn’t as bad as he painted it out to be, but recovery is ten times harder than he thought it would be. Some days all he can do is lie in bed or do nothing, thinking of you.

His therapist tells him that his life is more than his past memories. Both Yoongi and Hoseok agree, when he pulled up a random conversation about it late at night. Hoseok says that there’s never going to be a time where he won’t think of you, or still love you. Perhaps not as much as he once did, but he’ll never forget about you. Yoongi tells him he’s healing, and that they’re all proud of him.

Namjoon meets his friends, for the first time in the two years he’s known them. Taehyung has an extraordinary and (slightly strange) obsession over art museums. He’s been to almost every single one in Korea, and he dragged Namjoon over to one an hour away in Gangnam in the summer. Jimin is an amazing dancer, which Namjoon never knew.

Until Jimin brought it up casually, looking through old footage of his dance competitions. “Nothing big,” He said. “I used to dabble.” Namjoon’s eyes bulged out of his head and he told Jimin if that was ‘dabbling’, then he was wasting away his talent. He asked Jimin why he never made a career out of dance, and Jimin replied casually:

“I feel like if I start to make money off of it, and I’ll lose my love for it. Now that I haven’t really has time for it... I dunno. I feel like I’ve lost the talent a little bit.“

Namjoon told his friend that talent is nothing but a bunch of practice and time dedicated to a certain skill. Nobody loses talent, people just get a little unfamiliar with it. Jimin turned around in deep thought and told him he may just have a point.

Still, some days, he can do nothing but sulk around, feeling like a waste of space. Take today for an example. He walks down the street and out of the corner of his eye, he thinks, and he might be wrong, he thinks he sees you. The back of your head, anyways, but you’re wearing a red sweater with headphones over your ears and you turn around the corner.

Namjoon panics. He drops his coffee, which splashes all over his leather shoes and runs. He runs past the corner and he doesn’t know what on earth he’s doing but all he can do is run, and the wind dries his tears faster and faster, and he forgets all over again, that you aren’t here, that there’s no way he can go back and see you unless it’s in his memories, which he doesn’t even know how to control.

Somewhere deep in the depths of his mind, he knows something about this doesn’t seem right. That it couldn’t possibly be you, because he watched you go right in front of his eyes. He knows that in order to heal, he can’t chase after you or center his world around you. He knows all of that. But in that moment, he forgets that he still doesn’t remember everything about you.

He forgets that you’re dead.

And one day he’ll be free from this constant spinning. One day he won’t ever have to think twice when he cooks pancakes but that day and all that work he’s put in is the last thing on Namjoon’s mind and all he can think about is if that’s really you.

He sprints faster and reaches out, misses your wrist by an inch and ends up clutching at nothing but air. He heaves a huge breath, about to clap his hand over your shoulder-

Click.

tags; @jksbbyfacebunny @extremeobsessions101 @dwcljh @bishuthot @s0seo @stonyiscanon @cecedrake2217

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