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havin-a-wee · 4 years ago

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Doctor's Orders

pairing: gynecologist!harry x reader/doctor!harry x reader

word count: 2.3k+

warnings: smut, fingering

this is so long overdue i apologize but this is a request! i kinda love this piece so i hope you guys do too!

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

You sucked in a harsh breath as you heard your name being called from the front desk, the smiley old lady gesturing for you to follow her. You timidly walked behind her, your feet shuffling on the obnoxiously patterned carpet that lined the hallways.

You aren’t one to fear doctor’s appointments, in fact, you have never been apprehensive about going to one until right now. This appointment was something you’ve been avoiding for a while since you had moved to London, but there came a point where you couldn’t put it off for any longer. Back in the states, you were comfortable with your gynecologist, and you had no issue talking to her about problems you were having regarding your genitalia. But now that you were in a new city, you didn’t have the comfort that came with visiting a long-term doctor and faced new ones for the first time since you were a child. The rest of the doctor’s visits were pretty standard, but your private parts were something you struggled with understanding, Sure, you have seen porn and had sex, but it was never a fulfilling experience. In fact, you have never reached an orgasm. About a year ago you gave up on looking for men to help you and made it a mission to bring yourself to a climax. But alas, none of your efforts seemed to work. At this point, you were convinced that something was wrong with you, hence the gynecologist visit. Male gynecologist, that is.

Over the past month, you have spent a lot of time researching gynecologists in your area. The first one that came up was the one you are at now, but considering his gender you continued your hunt. But it kept leading you back to this one doctor, Dr. Styles, and that was why you are currently sitting in an exam room in his office.

You reassured yourself by looking up his name on your smartphone, scrolling through the 5-star reviews. The number of people who seemed to absolutely love this guy helped settle your nerves, so you read through them as you waited for a knock on the door.

That knock finally arrived a few minutes later, and you picked your head up and looked at the wooden door. “Come in!”

A head popped inside from behind the door as it was pushed open, and the doctor’s eyes found yours while he made his way into the small room. He’s tall, with a mop of chocolate brown curls on his head and bright green eyes accompanied by a friendly smile. He sat down, eyes never leaving yours until he placed his computer down and the screen lit up.

“‘Ello Darlin, m’Dr. Styles, but y’can call me Harry if you’d like.” He stuck out a hand, and your palm swiftly met his, the two of you looking at one another as you shook hands. His hands were enormous, and the rings placed on his fingers were cold to the touch. “Considering you’re a new patient, I took a peek at y’records and such, and I saw that y’ve always had a female gyno.”

You nodded your head slowly, opening your mouth to respond but getting cut off by Dr. Styles. “So I just wanted t’let y’know tha’ theres nothing t’be ashamed off, and I know what I’m doin’ so I promise you’re in expert hands.”

“Yeah, I was nervous, but I couldn’t ignore the amazing reviews people have given you, so I made an appointment.” You appreciated his reassurance a lot, and it really helped in the easing of your jitters. He turned back to his computer after nodding in response to you, clicking on a few keys before diverting his attention back to you.

“So what seems t’be the problem today Y/N?” An initial wave of shock hit you when he said your name, but it quickly dissolved when you remembered that he literally has access to all your medical information, so of course, he knows your name.

“This is a bit of an odd thing to come in for on my first appointment with you, but I think my vagina doesn’t work.” You let out a breathy chuckle at your own words. Dr. Styles seemed unphased by your forwardness, and you assumed he had heard a lot more abrasive things than that. “I’m a 22-year-old woman, but I’ve never had an orgasm. For the past year I’ve been focusing on doing it without a partner, but no matter how much time I spent or how many fancy toys I buy, I just end up feeling unsatisfied and disappointed.” He nodded along as you explained your issue, placing his chin in his hand while his elbow was placed on the desk.

“Have y’had any STD tests recently?”

“Yes, I had one last week, I’m clean and I’ve never had one in the past.”

“Is there any possibility tha’ you’re pregnant?”

“No, I haven’t slept with anyone in over a year.” You knew what questions he would ask, so to avoid wasting time you were giving him all the information he would need.

“When y’are sleeping with someone, do y’feel any sort of pleasure?”

“Yeah, but it’s just never enough, I guess.” His lips curled into an expression of concentration, and he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. The room was silent for all of around 30 seconds, but soon enough Dr. Styles spoke up.

“Based on yeh’ history and what y’telling me, it seems that y’just haven’t found the right bloke.” Your eyebrows lifted in surprise at his simple answer. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? “M’guessing y’can’t get y’self off cause’ y’tense and not fully relaxed. And the guys y’ve been with ave’all been doin’ a rubbish job.” He chuckled along with you, and you couldn’t help but agree with him. There was no one you could think of that had actually made you feel good the entire time and had actually focused on your pleasure and theirs. Most of the hookups you took part in were with frat boys who would stick their dick into anything with a hole. “But just in case, lemme’ check y’out just to make sure.”

He stood up from his chair and you swung your legs up on the cot, laying down on it. While you had waited for the doctor, you changed into the gown you were provided with, so there was only a thin piece of fabric between you and the curly-headed man that had taken a seat at the end of the seat.

It was now that you were faced with a dilemma that your anxious brain hadn’t even thought of prior to the appointment.

Dr. Styles was attractive. Like, really, really attractive.

Dr. Styles was attractive. Like, really, really attractive. And probably because of the nature of your discussion (and the fact that your body is severely desperate for sexual release), your core had been heating up since he first stepped into the room. So now, he would lift the skirt of the gown and see a pool of velvety wetness coating the inside of your thighs.

The back of the seat was propped up, allowing you to see him. This was a good thing for him because he could talk to you while he does his job, but it means you will have to look at him after he sees the mess you’ve made.

“May I?” His fingers gripped onto the edges of the gown, and you swallowed hoarsely before nodding your approval. While you know that he probably has witnessed much more embarrassing situations than the one you were in right now, it didn’t make the predicament any better. As you suspected, he kept a straight face when he lifted the flimsy material from your legs. Without taking a second glance, he turned to a bottle on his desk and pumped a dollop of lube onto his glove-clad fingertips. He used his other gloved hand to spread the lubricant, only turning back to you when his two fingers were both well coated in the substance. “Y’alright?” Once again, you nodded at his question. “Tell me with words darlin’, wanna make sure y’comfortable.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What kind of exam are you doing exactly?” That question popped into your mind right before it rolled off your tongue because you noticed he had never specified exactly what he was looking for.

“M’just gonna use m’finger,” he held his lube-covered fingers, “and feel around, just t’make sure everythins’ fine.”

“Ok, sounds good.”

“M’gonna start now, s’gonna be cold at first.”

You hissed when his fingers met your sopping hole, and you had to resist the urge to kick your legs while he slowly pushed his fingers inside of you. The feeling was strange, but definitely not unwelcome. The contrast from his icy fingers to your warm center was sending a tingling sensation down your spine. You could feel his fingers push around inside of you, caressing your walls. And you know you shouldn’t. But his fingers were hitting all the right nerves, and you couldn’t help but find the experience immensely pleasurable.

Despite your best efforts, a small moan of satisfaction escaped your lips. Immediately, you went stiff, and you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. You just moaned while your doctor had his fingers inside you. For a moment you thought he would ignore the sexual noise that you had just made. But he suddenly looked up at you, his eyes previously locked on his fingers.

“Well, if y’moanin’ just from that, y’more sexually deprived than I thought.” He chuckled, and you cracked a small smile, but that was before his words actually hit you.

Was he, hitting on you?

Maybe not flirting, but that definitely wasn’t something that doctors say to their patients very often. His smirk was also giving you the idea that he had certain intentions.

“Everything seem good down’ere, so I think tha’ problem is with the guys y’gettin with, not you. What type of people do y’usually sleep with.”

“When I was sexually active, it was usually frat boys, so I guess I should’ve known I wasn’t the problem.” You let out a small laugh, Dr. Styles seems to have found it much more amusing, as his chuckle came from deep within his chest. A small movement came with the laugh, which also reminded you that his fingers were still very much inside of you.

“It seems y’need someone who knows his way around,” he cleared his throat, and you smiled as you realized what he was hinting at. “and y’my last paitent of the day, so m’more than happy t’help y’out.” He looked down at his feet shyly, and you found it adorable how he was nervous about what he was proposing. But you were on the verge of tears from how hard it was to hold back your physical response to his touches. Your body relaxed when the words came out of his mouth, and you let out the whine that had been building up in your throat.

“Yes-Harry, god yes.” It was the first time you were using his first name, but the smirk on his face showed his approval.

He quickly removed his fingers from your heat, and you whined again, this time in frustration. Losing contact left you feeling cold, but that feeling only lasted a fleeting moment, as soon as he was pushing his fingers into you again, this time bare.

“Y’already so wet love, what got y’this worked up hmm?”

“Y-you, Harry, I want you.” You tripped over your words, but they came out clear enough for him to understand because he began moving his fingers at the encouragement. His fingers began to pump in and out of you, and you knew he must have been right about not being with the right guys before, because the simple movements left you as putty in his hands. You barely got any pleasure from fingering in your other sexual encounters, but you were already a moaning mess underneath the man. He lifted his other hand, which had also had the glove on it removed, and placed the pad of his finger on your puffy clit. You mewled loudly and his smirk widened.

“Any o’those boys ever make y’feel this good darlin’?” You shook your head furiously, and he smiled, rubbing circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You were already seeing stars, and you could feel an unfamiliar knot forming in your stomach. “Y’so pretty, did y’know tha’?”

You couldn’t muster up enough strength to respond to his second question, but the loud moan that you let out was enough of an answer for him. His movements sped up, fingers pumping in and out of you and his other thumb pressing circles on your button.

“Harry-”

“Think y’close darlin’? Ready t’come fo’ the first time?”

“Yes, yes..” Your voice trailed off when a guttural moan rumbled through your throat. Although you haven’t had one before, you were sure that he was about to bring you to an orgasm. There was a tight feeling in your stomach and you knew it was just about to burst.

“Fuck-”

The knot burst and your orgasm rolled through your body, reaching every nerve inside of you. The feeling was euphoric, and your senses were heightened as your body experienced this new feeling.

“Thas’ it, good girl,” he cooed, slowing his movements and removing his fingers from your now overly sensitive clit. He worked you through your orgasm until fully removing his fingers from you, and you let out a sigh as he did so. “Definitely not somethin’ wrong with ya’, I can tell y’that.”

He smiled up at you and you returned the gesture, your smile only faltering when he turned away to write something down. You took the opportunity to get up and change, quickly dressing while his back was turned.

He turned in his chair to face you once again, handing you a small piece of paper. You took it from between his fingers to see a phone number scribbled on it in black ink.

“Is Doctor Styles giving me his number?” You said it in a cheeky way, smirking back at him.

“Yes, and he’s telling you to text him when you get home. Doctor’s orders.”

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #blurb #one shot #request #harrys styles request #harry styles fic #one direction #smut #fluff

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awkward-and-indecisive · 3 years ago

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The Lazy Chose Me

Gif by @crowleysfavouritedemon

Summary - Y/n wants to have a lazy day but her boyfriend, Dean, wants to take her on an impromptu date. Will she have a good time at the date or will the date, the green eyed hunter organised, be a total wreck?

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Warnings - FLUFF!!! A little language, crack, lots of kissing a certain green eyed man, Dean being the best boyfriend ever, Dean being an adorable dork. Reader’s thoughts are italicised. If I’m forgetting anything please let me know!

Word Count - 4224

A/N - This randomly came to me at four in the morning. Also, I love Stitch with everything in me. 🥺😩

This is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.

Please tell me what you think about it.

FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!

Happy Reading :)

*****

You were having the laziest day of your life. Sitting on your side of the bed in a hoodie and sweatpants, you were stuffing your face with popcorn while watching reruns of your favourite show. With no hunts for the day, you were having a lazy day after months and you were enjoying it way too much. Crumbs of the snacks you’ve had earlier were scattered on the bed, decorating the sheets like confetti. Little pieces of popcorn were falling everywhere but you didn’t care. And you didn’t care that you didn’t care. You were loving the fact that you had nothing to do all day but lie in bed and eat junk and be lazy and messy and ugly and dirty. You were basically a zombie for the day.

Ah! This is what dreams are made of. You thought to yourself, sighing after another episode ended. You stretched your body, a few of your joints popping due to not getting any movement for so long, and hummed happily to yourself. You pressed play on the remote, the next episode playing, and changed your position on the bed. Lying on your side, you brought up your knees to your chest, one of your hands supporting your head, and kept the popcorn bowl within arm’s reach.

You had only continued your munching for a few minutes when your green eyed sex god of a boyfriend entered the room, excitement making his huge frame shake. He stopped at the foot of the bed, bouncing on the balls of his feet and you got a little annoyed at how energetic he was being. Your eyes were still glued to the screen, hand going in the direction of the bowl, blindly picking some popcorn and gorging yourself with it.

Dean moved in front of the tv and switched it off. You let out a ‘hey!’ in protest and he came to sit beside you. You scowled at him for interrupting your plan of being a zombie all day and he kept a hand on your hip, a cheeky smile playing on his lips which told you that he was up to something.

“Get ready, sweetheart. We’re going on an impromptu date.” He said with eagerness, clapping his hands together, and you still kept scowling at him. He seemed to have figured out what was swirling around in your head and started shaking you lightly.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s been so long since we had a date night and I have the perfect thing in mind.” He whined, making puppy dog eyes. You almost gave in right there but the lazy part of you stopped you from saying yes.

“But whyyy?! I don’t want to get ready or dress up or do my hair or look pretty or take a shower. I want to spend all day in bed doing absolutely nothing.” You whined back.

“Y/n, come on! You can be lazy all you want tomorrow. And look at all this mess and you haven’t even showered?!” Your boyfriend exclaimed. You just shrugged in return. So what if I didn’t shower today? It wasn’t like I smelled. Or did I?

You shook your head to get those thoughts out of your head and pulled the covers over your head, trying to hide under them and not let Dean force you to get out of bed. He tried to snatch the covers from you, going to stand at the foot of the bed again, but you had a deathgrip on them. Of course you were no match to him when it came to strength and he managed to steal them from you, throwing them on the small chair in the room. You groaned and folded your body more, tightly wrapping your arms around your knees and burying your head in the space between your knees and chest.

Dean grabbed a hold of your ankle and easily pulled you to the end of the bed and you screamed in protest, grabbing whatever you could to hold on. To anyone else the scene would surely look extremely comical, you clutching the sheets like your life depended on it and Dean dragging you towards the end of the bed. You knew you were being childish and throwing a tantrum like a kid whose mother refused to give in to their unnecessary demand they made in a public place right now but you didn't want to leave your bed. You were so comfortable and happy spending the day there and your boyfriend was bursting your peaceful bubble of lethargy.

“Why. Are. You. So. Damn. Lazy?!” Dean huffed exasperatedly, pulling you more and more towards the edge with each word.

You finally gave up on your plan, knowing you were no match for your stupid boyfriend’s stupid strength. You swiped the strands of hair that stuck on your face from all the scuffle in annoyance, when you stood up on your feet, and looked him in the eyes.

“I didn’t choose the lazy Dean. The. Lazy. Chose. Me.” You huffed with every step you took to leave the room and go to the bathroom to get ready for your impromptu date.

Dean chuckled and shook his head at your antics, taking a pair of your jeans, your undergarments and a jumper out of the drawer to give to you since you didn’t take any with you. He dropped the clothes on the bench of the bathroom, shouting ‘don’t take too long and get ready in 45 minutes’, and came back to change his clothes too.

Rolling your eyes for the millionth time in the last hour, you dragged your boot clad feet to the bunker’s garage. You would have been spending the whole day in sweats and a hoodie and here you were now, wearing jeans and a bra. Oh how cruel life is to break my dreams like that! You internally groaned.

You found Dean humming a tune to himself while leaning against his precious Impala, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded. His head perked up when the sound of your footsteps reached his ears and he immediately opened the passenger side door for you. You grumpily took a seat and Dean, still acting all gentlemanly, closed the door and rounded the car to take a seat in the driver’s side.

He jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, driving out of the garage. The green eyed man turned on some soft rock tunes, his fingers drumming to their tune. His whole demeanor was annoying you, testing your limits. How was he so happy after literally dragging me off the bed and stopping me from being the sack of potatoes I so desperately wanted to be all day?

“Why couldn’t we have a lazy date night in the Cave?” You asked, turning your body towards him.

“Because I can’t remember the last time we went out on a nice date and what I have planned is gonna be so much better than a lazy date night in the Cave.” He replied with confidence.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You grumbled, folding your arms.

“At least tell me where we’re going!” You whined after a few minutes had passed, stomping your foot like a child. You were really in a mood today.

“Then it won’t be a surprise.” Dean said, like it was obvious. You faced him and gave him your best puppy dog eyes, jutting out your lower lip to make the pout he could never say no to. He gave you a glance and then chuckled, “Nice try, sweetheart. But my hands are tied.”- he raised his hands in defeat and shrugged, -“I’m sorry but no can do.”

You let out a groan of frustration and decided to give up on prying information from him and just wait to see what this great plan of his was.

After a little over an hour of driving, Dean put Baby in park and you could see a tent with some lights and stuff. It was a carnival.

He brought you to a freaking carnival?!

“A carnival.” You said, judgement dripping from your voice.

“What? It’ll be fun!” He shrugged, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“I swear to god Dean if i don’t have any fun-”

“If you don’t have a good time then I’ll do whatever you want for a month.” He rambled out before you could complete your threat.

“Whatever?” You asked him, wanting to know if he was sure what he was signing himself up for. He nodded in reply and you thought about the little deal he was presenting you.

“Make it two and you have yourself a deal.” You countered, giving him a huge fake smile and putting your hand forward so you could shake on it.

“Deal!” Dean said and instead of shaking your hand, he crashed his lips on yours, kissing you like he hadn’t for years. He parted from you and you weren’t sure if you were out of breath because of the kiss or because of how good he kissed you. “That’s the way to properly seal a deal, sweetheart.” He winked and got out of the car, leaving you breathless and in a daze in the car.

You shook your head to get your brain back to working and got out of the car. You rounded and saw Dean holding his hand out for you. You couldn’t help the genuine smile and warmth that graced your cheeks. You hated how a tiny gesture from him made your heart do somersaults like a teenage girl even after all these years of knowing and dating him. Intertwining your fingers with his, you started walking towards the entry to go inside.

You were mesmerised by the hundreds of lights that were acting as a roof over your heads, looking like a galaxy of stars, as soon as you stepped foot into the carnival. You uttered a ‘Whoa!’ and could already see the smug smile forming on your boyfriend’s face. He gave you a ‘Hate to say I told you so’ look which you just ignored, pulling him towards the first stall your eyes fell on.

Dean suggested that you two eat a little before indulging in any activities and you quickly agreed since you didn’t have anything to eat all day other than those few snacks. You both opted for a hotdog and quickly finished it, feeling the hunger once the food was in your hands. The both of you roamed a little around the fair, watching everything that was on display.

The various games that were hard for normal people but to you both were as easy as pie and all the different prizes they had. A particular prize caught your eye and you memorised the stall number to visit later. The numerous contrasting foods and their delicious aromas wrapped around you like a blanket as you passed their respective stalls.

You saw a stall with flavoured lemonade and urged Dean to try some. You continued exploring while drinking the flavours of your choice. You reached the end of the ground, where the carnival was set, where a huge Ferris wheel waited for you and Dean.

You could only imagine the view you would get from the top. You tugged at your boyfriend’s jacket sleeve, stopping at the queue for the giant ride. You quickly emptied your plastic cups and threw them in the trash. You couldn’t help but notice Dean being a little nervous about the ride and found it so adorable. Dean Winchester, the best hunter in the world, was scared of a Ferris wheel.

It wasn’t long till it was your chance to sit in one of the carts. The crew guy locked the bar over your laps, securing you in. You heard Dean start humming Metallica, which you knew he did to calm himself down, as the ride started to take you up. You took his hand in yours, your thumb caressing the back of his hand. His grip on your hand tightened and you squeezed it back in reassurance, resting your head on his shoulder. You knew he was a little scared but couldn’t help and find the whole situation utterly adorable and amusing.

The wheel stopped when you were halfway to the top and you looked down to see that a couple was getting off a cart and another taking their place. You looked back at Dean, sitting next to you, and he had a funny expression on his face.

“Hey! You okay?” You asked, your brows furrowing.

He scanned his surroundings for a few seconds and then gulped, looking at you. You raised your eyebrows in question and he opened his mouth but no words came out.

“I uh...I think I’m gonna throw up.” He stuttered.

“You WHAT?!” You said, voice getting louder with shock while you let go of his hand and put as much distance as you could between the two of you. Your turn had just started and you were approximately 50 feet above ground and you had nowhere to go. Your thoughts started spiralling and you quickly rambled out, “I swear to god Dean if you throw up here I’ll kill you. Don’t even think about throwing up. Swallow it down if you have to. Don’t you dare throw up.”

“I can’t just not throw up Y/n!” He screeched.

“I don’t care!!” You said, shaking your head from side to side.

You both stared at each other in disbelief for a minute when Dean started laughing hysterically, his whole body shaking the cart. Your eyes widened when realisation hit you. He was messing with you. He wasn’t nauseous. Ugh! You hated him so much. The ride started again, taking you both up and he was still laughing.

“Asshole!” You said, smacking his arm and the cart shook a little bit.

“Whoa Y/n! I might fall!” Dean shrieked and you grumbled ‘Good!’ in reply.

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes and looking away from him. It wasn’t long until you reached the top and as soon as you took in the view, your annoyance vaporized into thin air. You could see the whole town from up here, hundreds of lights twinkling in the distance, the cold wind blowing through your hair. It all looked so heavenly stunning.

“This is so beautiful!” You whispered in awe.

“Yeah it is.” Dean agreed with you and when you looked at him, he was looking at you. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes while a blush crept up on your cheeks making your face warm even in the cold breeze. A smug expression made its way on Dean’s face and he wiggled his brow at you, thinking of how easy it was to win you over. But before he could make a smartass comment, you crashed your lips onto his, shutting him up. He didn’t seem to mind, bringing his hand up to your cheek, his thumb caressing it, while the other one still held onto the metal bar which was your only safety.

You made out like horny teenagers the whole ride, giggling when your noses collided. You both got out of the small cart, hands entwining and began to make your way back. You were walking quietly, taking in your surroundings when out of nowhere a guy ran past you, drenching you with the milkshake he had in his hand. You gasped at the contact of the cold liquid with your body, which quickly started seeping into your clothes and making you shiver.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed looking at you, anger filling him straight away and then his green eyes gazed behind you to catch sight of that guy.

“Let it go, Dean. I need to change before I get sick.” You said, tugging at his hand.

“Okay okay. I think I saw a souvenir shop a little ahead. Let’s get you some clean clothes from there.” He said, his anger disappearing and worry taking its place.

You nodded and let him guide you to the shop, hoping they had some clothes you could wear. As much as you disliked coming here at first, you were having a good time and didn’t wanna go back home so soon.

You went into the shop, thanking everyone in this world when you found some clothes at the back. You quickly took off their tag and handed them to Dean so he could pay for them while you changed in the fitting room. You quickly got out of your milkshake soaked clothes and put them in a plastic bag. You left the fitting room, your eyes meeting with those gorgeous green ones and he chuckled, shaking his head and looking down.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little conscious.

“Nothing. I’m just not that surprised at your choice of clothing.” He said with amusement, waving his hand up and down towards your body.

You glanced down at yourself and realised that you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. You were back in your lazy clothes and chuckled too. You looked at Dean and shrugged while smirking, “What can I say? The lazy chose me.”

He grinned at you, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was all sweet and loving. He parted when the need for air became too much and rested his forehead on yours, whispering on your lips, “I’m starting to think it did.”

You pecked his lips one more time before taking his hand to exit the shop. You both roamed around a bit more, going on some rides and eating some food. You lost a bet to Dean, getting dizzy before him on Chair-O-Planes, resulting in him making fun of you before you kissed him to shut him up while he lost a bet to you, getting scared in the fun house once while you didn’t. You made fun of him before he applied your method of shutting him up, kissing you. You both tried a hybrid of a cake and a pie which was so fucking delicious that it left you two moaning with each bite and you instantly got a whole one packed to take home. Dean kept convincing you to call it Pieke which you kept ignoring. You also tried something called a ‘pizza cone’, it looked like a normal ice cream cone but instead of the ice cream, it had cheese and pizza sauce and the cone was made out of dough. It was easily the best kind of pizza you’ve ever had and got a few of them packed for everyone back at home.

It was safe to say that both of your stomachs were full with finger-licking food and your hearts with irreplaceable memories from tonight. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this carefree and had so much fun. You hated to admit it, but Dean was right and you were definitely not going to say that out loud and give him one more chance of being all cocky and boastful.

Both of you were lazily strolling with one of your hands carrying the bags with the food and the other interlaced with each others’. You could see the opening from where you had entered, meaning you had done everything there was to do.

“You ready to go home, sweetheart?” Dean asked, his head tilting to you while his eyes darted towards the entry/exit point.

You hummed while nodding, Dean pecking your forehead and beginning to walk again. You had just stepped out of the carnival when your brain reminded you of that stall number you had thought of visiting before and you quickly shrieked, “WAIT!!”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to you with his brows raised, “What?”

“Uh, I remembered something I have to do.” You gave him a vague reply, not looking him in the eye.

“Okay, let’s go do it then.” He said, turning to walk back inside.

“NO!! No no.” You yelped, pushing on his shoulders to turn him back. He gave you a perplexed look and you awkwardly said, “You don’t have to come. Plus I kinda gotta do it alone.”

“Okaaay..” Dean said, unsure.

“Alright! So I'll meet you at the car in 20.” You hastily rambled out, pecking his lips and made your way back to the stall you had earlier seen in the night, leaving a dumbfounded Dean behind.

You were walking back to the car, a giant rainbow slinky in your hands, which were behind your back, to hide the toy from him. You saw how heartbroken he was, when the one Sam had gotten him on a case, got broken. You just wanted to see his whole face light up and give you that huge smile that lit up your world. You had seen the slinky displayed as a prize on the Ring Toss game and had won it for your boyfriend easily, your hunter skills coming handy.

You saw Dean leaning against the Impala, a mischievous look on his face, something blue and huge peeking out from where he was hiding it behind him. You squinted your eyes to figure out what he was hiding but failed to make anything out.

“What you got there, Y/n?” Dean questioned, nodding to your hands, amusement painted all over his face.

“I could ask the same.” You smirked, raising one of your eyebrows.

“Well as they say, ‘Ladies first’” He winked and you chuckled.

“You’re gonna need your hands for this one and they’re a little busy as far as I can tell.” You said, wiggling your brows at him.

Realisation hit him and you chuckled at his puzzled expression at what to do with whatever was in his hands. He told you to close your eyes and not open them until he shoved the thing he had in his hands in Baby through the window. He gave you the green light to open his eyes. You gave out a count of three out loud and then brought the slinky in front of you. Dean gasped, his whole face lighting up with a million megawatt smile, just like you had imagined, lighting up your whole world in the process.

“No! Oh, you’re the best girlfriend EVER!!! I LOVE YOU AND YOU’RE SO FREAKING AWESOME!!!” Dean blurted out, voice raising with each word, probably on cloud nine right now. Your face heated up at his words but you just dismissed them, mumbling ‘yeah yeah’ while looking down at your feet.

“Okay time for your surprise!”- He said, remembering what he had stuffed in the window earlier, -“Close your eyes.”- he insisted, turning around to get it out of the car while you shut your eyes, -”And no cheating!” You chuckled at his childish behaviour, loving it all the same.

“You need some help with that?” You teased him, after a few minutes passed and you heard him struggling to get it out of the car. He grunted an ‘almost done’ making you chuckle again.

“Alright, open up, sweetheart.” He said.

“YOU DID NOT!!” You gasped as you saw what he was holding in his hands, happy tears making your eyes blurry, reminding you of your childhood.

You instantly took the giant, almost as big as you, Stitch stuffed plush from his arms, squeezing it tightly against yourself. You couldn’t believe he got that for you. That little alien meant the world to you.

“I saw it at a shooting game after you left and I just couldn’t not get it for you. I know how much you love the movie and this weird guy. And also this is compensation if you didn’t have a good time tonight.” He told you and you looked up at him.

“Dean I...this...YOU are the best boyfriend in this universe and all the others. You don’t know how much this means to me...I...I love you.” You stuttered, words not coming to you as your feelings overwhelmed you, your voice getting smaller at the end.

He stepped forward, crashing his lips on yours, kissing you passionately while his large hands cupped your face. You kissed him back with the same passion, pouring all the feelings you felt into it, immense love for a certain green eyed man being the biggest. You parted when the need for oxygen became too much and rested your forehead on his.

“You should find yourself a new bed to sleep in because I just found a new cuddle buddy I won’t be letting go of any time soon.” You teased him, a smile playing on your lips.

“Pfft yeah right.” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry Stitch, unfortunately I kinda love him the most.” You said with mock sadness in your tone.

“Unfortunately my ass!” He grumbled and you laughed at that.

“I love you. So so much.” You said, pecking his lips.

“I know. Now get your cute butt in the car. It’s getting late and we gotta go home.” He said, lightly smacking your ass as you rounded the car to take a seat.

“Plus, I gotta show you just how much I love you for getting me that slinky.” He winked, suggestively, getting into the car.

“Oh I can’t wait.” You winked back.

*****

WHAT DID YOU THINK ABOUT IT?!

TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE!!!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader #dean x you #dean x reader #spn fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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choicesenthusiast · 3 years ago

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This Week on Choices - Important Announcement

Well, I’ve always known I’d end up here.

Eh, choicesenthusiast, you dramatic bitch. This is what you deserve.

This week, the week of December 12, 2021, marks the two-and-a-half year anniversary of This Week on Choices. Which means for the past two-and-a-half years, I have put out a review for every single chapter Choices has released since June 24, 2019. That was since Chapter 12 of Wishful Thinking. I bet half of you forgot about that book. That’s over 570 reviews. Five-hundred-and-seventy. Like me or not, you have to admit that that’s really fucking impressive. No matter if you’re old or new to the fandom, you’ve probably seen them around.

In short, I am insane.

Sadly, I have decided that this is the perfect time for me to discontinue TWoC. Yes, that’s right, my reviews will be no more. I’ve been debating this decision for a long time (over six months now, actually), and now I’m finally acting on it. There are a few reasons for this:

I’m exhausted. That’s number one, and frankly, the most important. Don’t get me wrong, it’s so much fun to come on here and say my piece on every chapter, but after 2.5 years, even the most fun things take a toll on the best people (i.e. me, I'm the best). Believe it or not, I’ve sacrificed a lot for this. My free time, my sleep, my sanity, and my mental health; each review is time consuming as hell. It’s time for me to find a new fucking hobby, man. Something that I can enjoy, and something that will make me happy instead of wanting to shove my brain through a powerwash and a woodchipper. I hate to bring up the pandemic, but it did drastically impact my life, as I’m sure it did with all of yours. It’s a miracle I kept TWoC running through 2020, and even up until now at all. It’s unhealthy, and it’s high time I finally change that.

In a complete contradiction to what I said in Point #1, writing reviews is no longer fun. Not in the sense that I hate shitting on shitty content, but it’s draining to force myself to try and write about things I can’t really bring myself to care about. In the past six months, the past year, even, writing these has become a chore instead of a pastime. I’d look at my spreadsheet with all the titles and tell myself “just one more chapter, just one more week, just one more term (6 months)”, but now it’s gotten overwhelming to the point where it takes days for me to muster the motivation. Pixelberry’s given us nothing but shit, and it’s not worth the extra effort to give them anything more than shitposts and memes in return anymore.

PB’s money-making nightmare VIP business model. I think part of this lends to the fact that, not only has content been lackluster as of lately (read: the past year), but the hype around books isn’t there at all. With VIP getting access to books early, it comes as no surprise to anyone when weeks later nobody has anything to say about wide-released chapters. The two main purposes of the reviews were a) “I read this book so you don’t have to” (i.e. inform), and b) “me funny hehe-haha” (i.e. entertain). Part of the fun was watching everyone’s reactions, compiling them while adding my own commentary, and then some discussion and even theorizing around books. Now, that’s just not possible.

Simply put, my life is moving forward, and Pixelberry is not.

Bigger and better things, baby! I’m in a weird transition period in my life, going through a lot of big changes, and suffice to say, TWoC won’t be a part of them anymore. I’m not one to get sappy over anything, especially fucking Choices of all things, but it’s been a horrendously big part of my life for so long now that it’s even weird to let it go. I’ve literally built myself (this blog, choicesenthusiast) up around this. Looking back, it’s crazy to see the evolution from my very first review up to my recent ones. I have learned a lot about myself and my skills, both online and in-person since then, so if doing this regularly did anything for me besides slowly deteriorate my joy, at least it was that.

So here’s the plan: I’m going to continue until the end of Queen B 2, seeing that it’s on Chapter 13 and should be done in about 3-6 weeks, and then that’s it. Bye-bye, This Week on Choices. Who knows, maybe one day it’ll return, though I highly doubt it. Let me be clear, this does not mean I’m done with the fandom, oh no. Who’ll be here to rip Pixelberry’s assholes if I’m gone? Yeah, no, I think I’m too deep into this damn berry app to just leave. You’re just not getting my brilliant, awe-inspiring words of hatred as organized as they’ve been. Maybe a post here and there complaining about Pixelberry’s bullshit once again. Maybe an itemized list of every fuckup they’ve ever had… for the two people who know what I’m talking about… should I…?

Thank you to everyone who’s ever come across a This Week on Choices review, anyone who’s read one, laughed at one, responded to one, shit like that. You’re a real one. Really, this would have ended long ago if not for you. And to all those who will be popping champagne tonight, saying “oh, finally, the bitch is dead and done!”, thank you too. I am a spiteful whore, if anything, and your hatred for me has only fuelled me longer than it should have. Again, I’m being dramatic about this, tossing out thanks like I’m retiring from Hollywood, but, like I said, I’ve been doing this for a long time, and its end has been a long time coming. The end of an Era, that's for sure.

Goodbye, This Week on Choices. You did me good.

~choicesenthusiast

#this week on choices #playchoices #choices stories you play

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simsadventures · 4 years ago

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Panopticon: Chapter 27: War Path

Alpha Steve x Omega Reader

Summary: Steve is livid and tries to find you but somebody keeps putting obstacles in his way. You, on the other hand, get to meet the devils and learn some harsh truths.

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, angst, abduction, slight mentions of torture, life in captivity, lying, swearing, mentions of violence against women, shitty people in general, loads of feels, I would hope, mentions of suicide, mentions of death

Word Count: 3800

A/N: Du dun… Who is ready for some angst? Many of you weren’t happy that we’re taking this route, but it needed to happen because the world is full of assholes who try to make people unhappy. Anyway, so excited about this one, and I can’t wait for you to tell me what you thought. Love you all!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

“That won’t help to find my Omega, so no!” Steve yelled across the whole room, and even the experienced Alpha fighters gathered in the room couldn’t help but shudder at Steve’s authoritative voice. They were trying to help, coming up with new ideas to try and bring the Circle down, or at least make somebody from the inside communicate with them to tell Steve and his team the location of his Omega. But no idea was good enough for Steve.

It had been four days. Four days without his precious Omega, and Steve felt like he was slowly losing his mind. He desperately needed you next to him, just to feel your warm, soft skin pressed against his, or to see the light in your eyes whenever you looked at him. But he had nothing.

He often saw broken Alphas after all that went down on Earth a few years ago, and while he couldn’t really imagine what they must have been feeling at that time, walking like dead men, some of them on the brink of death because they just couldn’t handle their lives without their loved ones, Steve understood it all now.

He knew he had to concentrate because he felt you in his veins, felt that you were alright considering the circumstances and, most importantly, that you were still alive. That was the sole reason why he didn’t end it yet. But he was hanging on a thread because each day and night he had to spend without you, his mind was going just a little more insane. He was hearing your voice and this morning, he even saw you standing by the bed. He was elated, but when he blinked a few more times, he realised that it was his brain playing tricks on him and that none of what had happened was just a nightmare.

Moreover, he had to orchestrate a funeral for Peter and Gamora. The sadness over their loss was embedded deep in Steve’s soul, and he knew he would never get over it, even if he got you back. When he got you back, he scolded himself every time he thought of it, but it was to no avail. The desperation and pain seeped deep into his bones, and the once positive Alpha, who used to be full of life was just a walking shell of numbness.

Sam and Bucky tried to pick up the mood in the room now and then, but they knew all too well that there was nothing they could say or do to make the situation better. The only thing Steve really needed was to get you back, and they empathised with him. Moments after the realisation hit them that you were indeed gone, they rushed to their own huts to check on their own mates. Their bonds felt fine, but the fucked-up situation got into their heads, and they needed to see their loves for themselves. Both Meera and Tina were sitting comfortably in their houses, unaware of the terror going on just mere meters away from them. They all spent the afternoon scenting and crying, their hearts clenching for their friend who was lost in his thoughts and his pain.

But Steve tried to come up with a solution. He knew Rumlow would take you somewhere far, but not far enough not to brag about it. The circle was almost a day drive so Steve would have bet Rumlow’s hiding place was somewhere between his own house and the hell house they called the Omega haven. But that was still too much land to cover just by foot or by car, since there were so many abandoned houses and warehouses, not even talking about all the hidden places deep in the forests. So, just going somewhere blindly was not an option.

Then, he thought of using what was left of the functioning camera system between the city and his lands, trying to see if he could pinpoint at least the direction where Rumlow and his team went. But he came up with nothing since most of the cameras had been destroyed soon after the war had started.

Steve even thought of taking some military dogs and making them sniff your clothes to find you, but that would mean hundreds of kilometres to search, and that was just impossible. Every single thing Steve came up with was a nonsense, and the longer he couldn’t figure out how to find you, the more desperate and angry he had become. His people knew it was nothing personal, but his yelling and blaming was sometimes too difficult to bear for any of them. Steve knew he was being a dick, and he apologised every time his nerves got the better of him, but it was like he couldn’t do anything about it.

It was when Bucky spoke up with a guilty look that Steve finally got a good idea from somebody. Not that he particularly liked it, but it was something useful at last, and Steve was actually quite angry with himself for not thinking of it sooner. The idea was to call Peggy because she was always able to find Rumlow a little easier than the rest of the world. How that worked exactly Steve never asked, because Peggy was one of those who kept their work pretty shut, and she wouldn’t brag or even talk about it, so Steve had barely any idea of what Peggy really did. There used to be times when he minded when it drove him up the wall, but not anymore. He didn’t care how she did it, the only thing Steve needed was to get you back.

He called her almost immediately, listening to her smooth voice as she assured him that she would devote a majority of her time to help him because, after all, she still cared for him very much. Steve thanked her from the bottom of his heart and resolved to wait for her to come back to him since there was literally nothing else to do for him but to wallow in his pain.

Surprisingly, it only took a few hours for Peggy to reach out and tell Steve that she might have found him. His heart started beating like crazy as if feeling that he might be getting you in his arms sooner than he expected. Peggy told him that she got the memo that Rumlow was hiding in an old warehouse south of the manor, around 70 kms away, and Steve just growled, knowing he was kind of right in his assumptions. He quickly gathered his team, not really speaking much, but they all understood. This was a life or death mission because most of the team was sure Steve wouldn’t survive that if they didn’t find you.

Steve pretty much jumped out of a moving car when they neared the building, and he got to work immediately, going into the commander mode, assigning roles and talking strategy for when they would come in contact with Rumlow’s team. Everything was meticulously planned, and Steve had a good feeling about that. The only issue was that he couldn’t smell you. But he simply thought that he was still far enough to be able to do that and that they were probably keeping you in some shutoff room.

The closer to the building they got, however, the weirder the whole situation felt. No men were standing outside on the lookout, there were no specific smells to tell the team that there were indeed people hiding inside, and when they finally got in, they found the place completely empty.

They rummaged through all the rooms, even in the basement and on the roof, but the only thing they got was some cloth lightly smelling like Rumlow, but not enough to tell them how long ago he was at the warehouse. Steve screamed in frustration because there was no sign of you, not even a hint of your smell that he so helplessly craved.

Bucky and Sam shared distressed looks before they each grabbed Steve from one side and brought him back to the car, hollering at the whole team that the mission was over and that they needed to come back home. Steve didn’t speak the entire ride back, just staring out of the window, thinking of all the times you two would take such rides to and from the city, always discussing new books or just sharing stories from your youths. Steve now found that he took these moments for granted. He enjoyed them, sure, but not enough. There was the nagging voice telling him that he should have done more, that he ought to have taken you with him to that fucking meeting, and none of this would have happened.

“Stop it, punk. None of this is your fault so stop with the self-blaming and call Peggy to tell you what the fuck happened that her tip wasn’t true,” Bucky interjected Steve’s thoughts, and as many times before, Steve wondered whether Bucky could just read him like an open book or if he had a direct link to his brain. Steve shook his head and dialled the number.

“So, happily ever after?” Peggy said smugly, and if she stood anywhere near Steve, he swore he would have hit her.

“Nothing and nobody’s fucking happy, Peggy. Nobody was there except for some piece of cloth that was supposed to smell like Rumlow. Who the fuck gave you this tip? I need to find my Omega, and I don’t have the time to drive around the city and march into every single abandoned building just because you have a hunch. I need real information, Peggy, and if you can’t give that to me, then you’re just wasting my time,” Steve said more tiredly than anything else, but Peggy’s face contorted in annoyance on the other end of the line.

“I never waste your time, Stevie, you remember that. Look, I thought the info was top-notch, but I’ll keep looking. How about I come to your place, and we can think of a plan together?”

“Yeah, yeah whatever, it definitely can’t harm us. I’ll be expecting you,” Steve sighed and hung up, nodding at Sam who was watching him through the rearview mirror.

“Peggy said she’d come and help from the mansion. I mean, I’d rather have the whole fucking team together looking for Y/N, but I can’t fly everyone here from god-knows-where, so anyone who wants to join in is welcomed.”

Sam nodded but didn’t like it one bit. He understood that Steve was desperate, but Peggy was and had always been bad news, and Sam had a hard time trusting her even back in the days when they had to fight side to side. All the secrecy surrounding her just stank, and Sam was sure he’d keep an eye on her, just in case. He wanted everything to go over smoothly for Steve, and nobody needed a sneaky bitch who would throw them under a train the second she got a better deal from the opposing side.

You let your hand slide on the ground underneath you. It was rough with what felt like small rocks that were cutting you in the palm. You were seated, and your whole body hurt since you have been in this position for hours. Nobody talked to you since they killed your friends and abducted you. They just blindfolded you and tied you up, changing positions every few hours probably to disorient you since you doubted anybody really cared how comfortable you were. All you could do was rely on your senses and learn as much about your surroundings as you could. You weren’t even sure why you cared, but your brain couldn’t take thinking about anything related to Steve, so you busied it by making sure you knew everything you could.

You learned that there were three places they would keep you in. You presumed that they were all in one room, but they changed whether you were sitting or lying down. You weren’t even sure what time it was and slept when they put you laid you down. Nobody ever touched you inappropriately, and that’s how you assumed not one of those people was Rumlow.

The first place they would let you sit in was in an old crinkly chair made of rough wood as you had a few splinters from rubbing your hands against the arm-holders. It had four metal legs, and from the sounds, it made every time you shifted, you thought it was a rather old and overused piece of furniture.

The second place was where you were sitting now. It was by the wall, which was cold and smelt of moss, and you even though you sensed death a few times, you knew that was just your exhausted brain playing games with you. The ground was full of rocks and shards of glass, so it was your least favourite place to be of the three. The ground was colder than all the other areas, and every time they made you stand up, there was a wet patch where your ass touched the ground as the coldness accumulated against your hot body, making you wish you could just change. But your abductees would never answer to your pleas, so after what you assumed were a few days, you just gave up asking them altogether.

The third place was a makeshift bed, created out of a few pieces of wood pushed together and an old and smelly mattress. You tried to ignore all that the smell evoked in you, but you sometimes choked on your own saliva as you shifted and changed position, getting another whiff of what smelt like a hundred of butts and sweat. But it was a mattress, and you could get a few hours of sleep, so you couldn’t dwell on the details.

When you found out everything there was with your surroundings you tried to pay attention to your abductors. And while you couldn’t say precisely how many there were, you had a pretty good idea. As you were an Omega, blindfolded and cuffed, they always came alone, and you recognised each of the people by their steps. There were four of them, each of them having differences in their weight, the length of their steps and the carefulness with which they handled you. That’s how you came up with the number of four.

Number two was by far your favourite. They (you assumed it was a he but you couldn’t be sure) would always leave you alone even when you needed to use the bathroom. You knew they were in the room, but they had the decency to at least not physically touch you, and, in your mind, you created this picture that the person even turned around to leave you to do your business. They would also give you the biggest amount of water, seeing how you were parched because number four was a complete asshole and would always allow only a gulp before he drastically took the cup away from your mouth.

And that was your days, filled with diverting your brain from thinking about the graver questions, like where were you, would Steve ever find you, what did they want from you, etc. Every time any of those popped up in your head, you choked up, and had to start touching your surroundings or else you’d have gone insane by now.

It was when number three was supposed to come and let you sleep that you heard it. It was faint, but your ears perked up at anything that wasn’t your own breath or the sound of boots of your abductors hitting the ground. And this was neither. These were human voices talking about something behind the door. Your heart-rate picked up immediately because, while you hated the routine of four guards and three positions, you also knew that routine was good. Anything that was out of the routine could possibly mean death to you, and you tried to do anything to avoid that. The voices grew nearer, and you shuddered involuntarily, bracing yourself.

When the door opened, the cold air hit your face, and you hid it between your shoulder blades.

“Well, well, well, here is the famous Omega the world is searching for. You look so pathetic, it’s actually quite funny,” you heard a female voice say, and your brows knitted together. You heard it before, you just couldn’t place the voice for the life of you.

“Yeah, well, the sooner she stops pining for that pathetic excuse of an Alpha and becomes mine, she will look much better. I mean, not that anybody’s gonna see her since she is just an Omega pussy, but she is my Omega pussy, so,” the man trailed off, and you didn’t have to think to place this voice. This voice haunted your worst nightmares, so you were pretty familiar with it.

Rumlow

“Whatever, Rumlow. All we need is to get rid of her mating mark, and we’ll be good. Steve called me and found the warehouse where I sent him empty, and I, as a devoted friend, told him I’d help him from the mansion so I’ll have easy access to him and I will divert him from here if need be. You just need to do what you must so that I can have him back,” the woman spat, and it was as if a light bulb switched on. God, you felt stupid for not suspecting she had her ugly fingers in this. Fucking Peggy who obviously wanted Steve back even when she visited him all those months ago.

And while it was nice that Steve didn’t feel the same, this woman was clearly a maniac, and she wouldn’t stop at anything to get what she wanted.

But, there was one more thing that caught your attention. They wanted to get rid of your mating mark, and the thought paralysed your whole body. There were only a few ways to do that to any mated couple, and none of them was humane or accepted by most people. You’ve heard of Omegas trying to sever their bonds as they didn’t like who chose them, and so they cut a clean line across their mark, but even then the bond couldn’t be severed completely. There was also the option of just biting an Omega hard enough where their mates’ mark was, and trying to beat mark with a mark.

You also heard that true mates were inseparable, and while Bruce told you that you were true mates, you could never know for sure. The inseparableness of true mates could just as well be some old maid tales, it was one of the things your mother used to tell you, but you had no idea where the truth was.

The only thing you did know was that however they wanted to do it, you would go through hell, both physically and mentally, and that there was a more than likely chance that you would die in the process.

“You’re not afraid she’ll die on you?” Peggy asked more curious than concerned because, for her plan to work, your ties with Steve had to be cut. She would have preferred killing you since it was easier, quicker and with long-lasting results. But Rumlow had been obsessed with you ever since he lost the fight with Steve back at the Circle. When Peggy heard about it, she just scoffed and told him he was an idiot, because if he would have called her, she could have just snuck you out without anyone knowing and they wouldn’t have been in this mess.

“I mean, there’s always the possibility, but I’m not letting her run around with his mark. I wouldn’t like pounding a pussy marked by somebody else. Besides, she’s stronger than she looks, isn’t it right, pussycat?” Rumlow asked, for the first time addressing you. But you knew better than to talk, so you just remained quiet, and from the low hum coming from his mouth, you assumed it was a good decision.

“And what if that bullshit about true mates is real?”

“Oh, please, not you too. Nothing like true mates exists, Peggy, I told you. Some just smell nicer to particular individuals than others, that’s it. I don’t even know why we’re losing time talking about this. Go and do whatever you want with Steve and his estate and I’ll just do what I want with this one,” Rumlow rumbled, and the next thing you heard was the clicking of high-heels against the hard floor, leaving you alone in the room with the devil.

“Now, sweetheart, I think we should begin, hm?”

“Oh, Stevie, you don’t look good. Here, let me bring you to your bedroom so you can rest and the team and I will search for your mate in the meantime, hm?” Peggy suggested nicely, and Steve nodded, happy there was somebody who could possibly save you. But before she put her claws on his arm, Sam appeared out of nowhere and stopped her hand. She hissed like a cat and Sam gave her an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look.

“I think it would be better if you stayed down here, Peggy, as you said, you are such a valuable asset to this team that I wouldn’t want to you to waste your time by going with Steve here. I will accompany him to his bedroom so that he can get some sleep, and, meanwhile, you can work with Bucky,” Sam smirked but didn’t wait for her response as he led Steve towards the staircase and up to his bedroom. There was no fucking way in hell Sam would let Peggy be with Steve alone. And since he shared his worries with Bucky, there were two of them looking out for their best friend, which left Peggy in a tough position.

She watched Sam and Steve leave the room, and Bucky would laugh hadn’t it been such a delicate situation, because Peggy really looked like the Goddess of Revenge. That just further proved Sam’s theory about Peggy being fishy, to say the least, and Bucky was starting to question whether she didn’t have something to do with your disappearance.

Peggy saw right through them, and she smirked to herself. If they wanted to play games with her, so be it. She would get Steve alone and inject the serum in him she had been making for so long, and they would finally live happily ever after. Just like they were supposed to. All she needed was to stay close to Steve for a couple of days, get him alone enough times, and he would be all hers.

/ Next Chapter >

Tags will be in reblogs xx

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 3 years ago

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Things Went Horribly Wrong

This was written for several whumptober prompts. Content warning: canon-typical injuries. To set the stage, there's a fight on the Preservation Station transit ring. Murderbot tries to help.

My head hurt, and I could feel blood and coolant running down the side of my face. My balance was on the fritz, so I kept stumbling into and over objects I should’ve been able to avoid. Diagnostics screamed at me about other damaged areas, but the head injury made even those warnings garbled beyond recognition.

Chair. Wall. Door frame. Shit! Ow!

I walked into a metal frame and had to backtrack a couple of steps before I made it into the hallway beyond. Ratthi caught me before I could trip on a loose piece of concrete and grabbed both of my arms. “SecUnit?”

“Run!” I managed. What the fuck was he still doing here? Hadn’t station security told everyone to leave?

He peered past me for a second, then asked breathlessly, “What happened? Are you all right? You’re bleeding… everywhere.” He looked back down the hall. “Gurathin’s on his way.”

What? “No!” And then because we needed to go, I added, “CombatBot.” I was having trouble forming words. My jaw was probably dislocated. “Move!”

I tried to shake off Ratthi’s grip but couldn’t quite pull away with any accuracy. The scientist gave me another horrified look and then finally started moving. He kept one hand wrapped around my forearms, at least I didn’t walk into any more walls as I followed him. Deity, human processing is so slow sometimes.

“What the fuck? Why is a CombatBot here? After Balin, I mean.”

I closed my eyes and banked my visual inputs. The bot had slammed me face-first into the floor of the transit ring and then used its massive hand to squeeze my head. So the destroyed visuals weren’t even a surprise so much as an annoyance. They were barely readable at this point, and I couldn’t maintain a connection to my drones without losing too much performance.

So, I wasn’t even looking at Ratthi — I just trusted him not to walk me into anything.

“No idea. It came here on a commercial ship.”

“Don’t we scan for these things?”

Station security absolutely scanned for weapons, and I didn’t know how the bot had gotten through our security measures. I also admittedly didn’t care right now. I just needed to get Ratthi and any remaining humans as far away from the carnage as possible. My scans weren’t picking up any other life signs, which was the only piece of good news.

I tried to use the feed and nearly collapsed. Great. Just great. Fuck.

“Ratthi, contact Indah.”

The human stopped and went for his interface, so I barked, “And keep moving.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He sounded panicked now. “What about Three? Is it all right?”

It was keeping the CombatBot occupied on the transit platform and doing its best to prevent the bot from entering the station proper. It was most certainly not fine. “Indah. Now.”

She’d know what to do. We’d worked out a plan for situations like this once the council’s vote became public knowledge, and that plan was Three’s best chance of survival right now. Barring a fucking miracle.

Then something pinged me through the feed and literally slipped into my brain like it belonged there. “Hey Murderbot. It’s me. I’m gonna tell Ratthi to take you to medical. Don’t worry I got this. I’ve pinged Three, so it’s waiting for me, and the bot… well, I’m killware and it’s code. Gonna be fun. Talk later?”

“2.0?”

“Yep. ART’s about six hours out, so hold on that long, yeah? I got this. Go!” It was talking as fast as ART normally did.

Ratthi, meanwhile, demanded, “Who was that? Who just contacted me? Why did they sound like you?”

I stopped walking and stumbled, so the human had to catch me again before I could answer, “Me?” I tried to shake my head and immediately regretted the motion. “Sort of.”

“ART and SecUnit made me!” 2.0 informed him via the feed. “Take SecUnit to medical, ASAP! Yeah? Gotta go! See you. Be back later. Thanks for the media. Bye!”

“Medical, right. We have to go to medical,” Ratthi said. “Bye, not-SecUnit.”

I could’ve sworn 2.0 was grinning as it flowed out of my memory banks and toward the transit station through the feed. “Be careful,” I said. If 2.0 was alive…

Performance Reliability at 40%. Shutdown? Y/N.

***

My left arm is pinned under a large chunk of metal and concrete wall. I have other, lesser injuries, most of them relatively minor. The arm and my continued attachment to it is the current problem that needs solving.

I can hear weapons fire nearby, and it’s getting progressively closer. Ratthi is about two feet away, mostly conscious but woozy from the looks of it. The explosion was far too close for comfort.

My performance rating drops below a threshold and I reboot again. It takes the better part of a minute for me to return to some semblance of functionality.

2.0 is in my feed. You need to get out of there. ASAP. Now.

Working on it, I tell it. You… OK?

We’re fine. I might need you after this, but not now. Media’s fine for now. It’s talking almost too quickly for me to understand.

“Ratthi. Don’t move.”

“SecUnit?”

“Stay exactly where you are.” So I can find you in a moment since I can barely fucking see.

I look down at my arm and swear. Removing it is going to hurt very badly. Fuck! I’ve been partially disassembled before while still conscious, and it’s extremely unpleasant. Still, I can’t move the arm, and I definitely cannot lift the rubble pinning it in place.

So…

I roll over on my side and prod around in the shoulder joint space where the arm is connected to my body. My pain sensors are turned way down, and I can still feel it when I shoot myself to remove the skin covering the joint. From there, I unhook the inorganic connections and the arm slides off my shoulder assembly with a squelch.

I’ve said before that I can remove my arms, and this is true. It’s just not comfortable or fun, and putting back is going to suck.

You need to go. Now. 2.0 reiterates.

ART, who is now close enough to loom in the feed, adds, SecUnit, you and Dr. Ratthi are in a very precarious position. Your humans will be very cross with me if you don’t get out of there.

I roll away from the now-disconnected arm just as more walls come down on top of the rubble. Dust motes float in the air. I get up and stumble a few steps before finding my bearings.

Good enough. Shut up, ART. Privately I ask, Is 2.0 OK?

Of course, it is. It’s probably better now that it can talk to you, but we made some incredibly flexible killware.

Is it like you?

It’s like both of us, ART answers. It’s strong and resilient like you. But it is, ultimately, a being comprised entirely of code.

I sigh and yank Ratthi out of the way of incoming weapons fire. Good enough.

***

With a final blast, Three disabled the CombatBot and the damn thing stopped moving. Permanently this time. I hoped.

Someone cheered beside me. Ratthi, maybe? I couldn’t quite identify the voice because my ears were ringing, and all the garbled data coming into my sensors was only adding to the confusion. My diagnostics had given up a while ago, at some point after I’d lost an arm and were no longer even trying to run.

It was that bad.

I think I need to go to medical, I said in the feed, hopefully to Ratthi or ART. It was hard to tell. Someone was probably listening.

Performance reliability rating at 23% and dropping. Shutdown delayed.

“This unit is no longer functional and should be discarded,” said my buffer entirely unprompted just as the world spun. There was a loud crash, followed by more voices.

“It is recommended that you discard this SecUnit—”

“Oh, no. SecUnit!”

“Buffer,” I managed, looking for the damn controls to turn it off and failing to find them.

A moment later, Three kneeled beside me. I knew it was Three because it pinged me in advance with its particular signature and was sending me a slow stream of relevant data. The CombatBot had done its share of damage, but casualties were minimal, and I was apparently the most injured of the fighters. Three came in second, so that wasn’t saying much.

And then 2.0 slipped back into my head and finally shut down the damn buffer. You don’t look so good. How are you still connected to the feed? The manual says we — you — shutdown at 25%.

Shut. Up.

Sure thing… For all of four seconds, it was silent. Then, it said, Actually I can do one better. Here’s some Sanctuary Moon music. I like it. You still like it, too, right? Oh, and lets get some endorphins into your systems. Let’s see, here we go. Pain relief coming right up.

Three picked me up like I was a rag doll. At least I was no longer telling Ratthi (was it Ratthi or someone else?) to discard me. That was nice. The music was nice, too, and 2.0 was doing something to keep my connection to the feed relatively stable. So, ART was looming in there as gently as a transport reasonably could. It was leaking worry all over the place and I couldn’t figure out why.

“It would be beneficial to initiate a shutdown,” Three advised.

And pass out? No thanks.

I’ll do it for you, 2.0 offered cheerfully. Rest and what not? Constructs need rest, right? AI don’t, not really, but we dream and that’s kinda the same. Neural pruning and all that. Oh sorry, that’s probably not relevant right now.

It’s fine, I told it.

I missed you, it said. Be OK. Please.

ART, please… I was going to ask the transport to take 2.0 or do something with it before I actually experienced an involuntary shutdown and potentially hurt the smaller AI. It was an artificial mind now, as far as I could tell. It must’ve shed not only its purpose but the limitations of killware because whatever 2.0 was now, it felt more like ART and less like killing code. Still deadly but… different.

And surprisingly childlike.

Before I could finish the thought, 2.0 initiated the shutdown process on my behalf — it totally could, it had all of my codes — and then extricated itself with a wave and a second hefty dose of pain killers. It had somehow convinced the chemical factory to produce pain relieving chemicals on demand.

And then I did pass out because my organics weren’t prepared for any of that.

#whumptober #whumptober2021 #murderbot #fanfiction #2.0 #secunit three #my writing

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secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer · 4 years ago

Text

Invisible String (Harry Styles x Reader)

(Soulmate AU)

A/N: Got inspired with this while listening to Taylor Swift’s Invisible string, hence the title. It took me a really long time to write this, hope you like it!

Warnings: none

Summary: In a world where soulmates are connected by an invisible red thread, how would you find yours?

“Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I’ll pull him to me.”

“Honey, you know that’s not how it works, right?” My Mom leaned forward and placed her hand on my arm, she looked genuinely concerned for me.

“Mom, you got it easy. You were fifteen when you bumped into dad. Literally. And here I am, twenty-six and still don’t know who is my soulmate,” My voice rising slowly as I pushed her hand away from me, I was getting rather frustrated having the same conversations over and over again.

“Oh don't be so dramatic, your Grandma was thirty-five when she met your Grandpa and you know how happy they were. You'll find him," my mom tried to reassure me. Again. “Or her," tilting her head to the side, she added as an afterthought.

I almost wanted to roll my eyes, my Grandma was a very patient lady, unfortunately, she didn't pass down the trait to me.

I had been waiting for my soulmate ever since I turned five and sort of understood the concept. Invisible red strings. Fate. The one.

My parents sat me down one fine day and explained to me how two people that were meant to be together were connected by an invisible red thread tied to their little fingers.

All I asked them at the time was if the thread was invisible, how did people know it was red. They told me I'll find out in due time.

I still didn't know the answer to that.

But after my five-year-old brain had absorbed the newly received information, I got obsessed with finding my soulmate.

There was something incredibly reassuring about having someone only meant for you. But wrapped around it was the uncertainty of how and when and you will find them, or even if you'll find them.

After that day, I would constantly find myself reaching for my pinky finger, a calmness washing over me, a hope to find someone, and call them mine.

My friends and I spent hours discussing our soulmates, what they would look like, how would we meet them, and so on. Our parents would look at us and coo, mostly finding this adorable, reminding them of a time when they were young and probably did the same.

That's how things worked.

I was ten and had left my obsession behind. I still found comfort in my little finger during times of sadness and anger.

One night in the middle of June, after a big fight with my parents, I ran up to my room, plopped myself on the bed, and let loose all the emotions building up in me.

It was a few hours later when my breathing calmed down and the tears on my cheeks dried when my left hand reached for my pinky, and my fingers felt a soft textured thread reaching out from it.

My eyes widened as I looked down at my hands but found nothing, only my fingers wrapped around what seemed to be air, a few inches in front of my right hand's littlest finger.

I could not comprehend what had happened and chalked it up to delusions due to my tiredness.

The next morning I woke up, groggy, my hands automatically reached for the supposed string that I could feel the previous night and found that I could still touch it. "Maybe I am still tired," I convinced myself before sleeping for another few hours.

It was after spending a few days just feeling out the string that I realised I could touch the red string of fate.

My parents didn't believe so, they thought I was still a delusional kid with my head up in the clouds. They found it cute for a couple of days, happy that I was still interested in finding a soulmate, but then my constant attempts at convincing them that it was true got annoying for them.

No one seemed to believe me, and my friends thought I was lying for attention.

Nothing like this had ever happened. Fate worked mysteriously, fate worked behind the scenes. No one was supposed to know how, it just worked. I must be lying.

Since no one believed me, I found solace in my thread, in my soulmate. I tried pulling the string, hoping the one on the other side would reply, would pull it towards them as well. But nothing.

I guessed maybe they couldn't feel the string as well, just like everybody else. But my soulmate was not like everybody else. If I could touch the thread then they could as well, after all, our souls were connected. Maybe they just didn't want me.

I never stopped though, just like my pinky had become my safety blanket, I found a new comfort in pulling the thread, twisting it between my fingers, still praying that my other half could feel it, even if they didn't respond.

I would spend hours trying to follow the thread, but it seemed endless and at the time, my block was where my world ended. My soulmate was way out of my reach.

Three months later, in the middle of my English class, I felt it. A tug. I looked down, before realising I could not see it. I almost laughed at my stupidity, but it was clear as day, my soulmate had responded.

My head shook as a slow smile crept up my face and I couldn't stop the sigh leaving my mouth. My classmates probably worried about my sanity, shaking my head and smiling at nothing sitting in the centre of the classroom. But I didn't care.

Knowing that there indeed was someone on the other side was like finding a piece of land after a lifetime at sea. I didn't waste a second to reply and received a tug again. I smiled, he was here and he was here to stay.

It was the start of something new. Every time, one of us felt down or lonely or happy we would pull at our thread, we now had someone to share those moments with.

I didn't know if his family or friends knew about us, but it felt like our secret.

Over the years, we formed this new language between us. Sometimes, we would pull the thread at the same time, or wait for the other to respond but no one would. It was uncoordinated and messy, like two drunk people attempting to dance, but it was ours.

I was eighteen when I figured a way to enhance our communication. Morse code.

It was some random detective show that gave me the idea and it seemed perfect. I just didn't know how to communicate this to him.

It took me less than a month to learn morse code. After I was done learning, I tried pulling at the thread in a specific pattern ‘Hey Soulmate’.

He wouldn't understand the message, but I prayed he would realise what it was.

He did.

Somehow, my soulmate had lost the ability to disappoint me. I smiled at the thought.

It took weeks of incomprehensible back and forth between us for us to finally be able to understand each other. It was hard, but we achieved it.

I realised two things from our exchanges.

One- My soulmate was a dork, his dad jokes were endless and two- I loved every second of it.

He would start pulling at the string in the middle of the night and I had to grab the notepad and pencil from my bedside table and decipher his messages half-asleep. And It would end up being some lame knock-knock joke.

You bet I laughed every time.

Which always led me to wonder what it would be like to actually be with him. How would he be as a partner? Would he hold my hand walking down the street? Would he kiss me in front of his friends? What nickname would he give me or would he give me any at all?

I spent most of my time talking to Harry, whose name I had learnt in one of our earliest full conversations.

My parents let it slide, believing it to be some teenage issues. My friends were lucky enough to have found their own soulmates at a young enough age and were too busy being in love.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked him one night.

I kept staring at the neon stars on my ceiling. Trying to conjure his face in my mind as I waited for his response, but didn't feel the now familiar tug that carried his replies.

It seemed like hours before my little finger was finally pulled at. With my notepad and pencil at the ready, I was prepared to write. “A musician”.

The corners of my mouth were pulled upwards and I imagined a young faceless man with a guitar in his hand performing in a stadium for thousands of people.

A laugh left me when I pictured him ending his concert with a final joke. People would groan at him but laugh nonetheless. They would love him too.

My mind then wandered to a future where he was performing at the Madison Square Garden, people screaming I love you from the audience. A huge smile gracing his lips. He would then came home late at night after the concert and lay down on the bed next to me. He would wrap his arm around my sleeping form and whisper I love you in my ear and I would respond with a sleepy mmph. He would smile down at me and eventually fall asleep too.

I looked down at the thread which was still pulling but all I could catch was a question mark. I cursed myself for not paying attention and asked him to repeat his question.

“What about you, Lovie?"

I stilled. Lovie? A nickname. So he was a nickname kinda guy.

I almost forgot to reply to him. But then instantly hit him back with a “Journalist”.

My pinky was pulled again, “Maybe that is how we will cross paths”.

I liked the thought.

"Owww," my right hand was pulled harshly when I stood up to submit my English assignment, causing me to fall forward. I was confused for a few seconds, trying to piece what caused it, but found nothing.

I looked around as everyone was laughing at my clumsiness, still dazed, I stood up and placed my essay on my teacher's table who looked at me with her eyebrows furrowed in concern, her lips parted to whisper "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head and returned to my seat, head down and my thoughts racing a thousand miles a minute. Before it clicked, Harry. I couldn't believe he made me fall down on purpose, or maybe it was an accident.

“Sorry”

I shook my head at my clumsy partner and focused on my teacher who had started talking about something else already.

I wasn't going to let the incident go that soon. During our next conversation, instead of sending him a reply, I held onto the soft, invisible thread tightly and yanked it towards me.

Not getting a reply soon after, I started worrying I had actually hurt him. Panic flowed through me, this was an insane idea, why would I do that? What if he was driving? What if he was at a height?

“Owww”

I admit I laughed, the incident wasn't hilarious enough to call for that level of laughter, but I did.

All my panic had immediately flown out of me. I loved it; before he pulled his end of the string again and made me fall down.

Thus, welcomed a new addition to our language.

We would yank our strings during mid-conversations, making the other fall down wherever they were. Did injury turn us on? We never tried to guess.

Moving to college was harder than I thought, I didn't know if I was moving closer to Him or farther away.

I considered asking him where he lived, but shook the thought away, we had promised not to reveal to each other any of our identifiable qualities except for our first names. We wanted to leave some things up to the true mastermind, Fate.

Going to New York University was my dream. Receiving my acceptance letter was an emotional moment for me, it took my Mom like an hour to calm me down enough to actually read the letter.

So, physically being here, standing in my dorm room was another level of excitement. I was ready to bedazzle the world with my writing.

"Ouch," someone came rushing into me from the back. I turned around to look at the person who bumped into me, only to find a five-foot-something, brown-haired girl standing in front of me, rubbing her forehead.

"Hi."

"Hello, you must be the roommate. I'm Olivia, what about you?" Her eyes held a curious gaze, as she extended her right hand towards me.

"Y/n," I placed my hand in hers and shook it lightly, having a good feeling about her.

"Y/n, brace yourself, we're gonna be best friends for a really long time."

I knew it.

During my time at NYU, Olivia really did become my best friend, she introduced me to her soulmate, Ashley, who was somehow an even bigger bundle of joy than Liv. I didn't know that was possible.

"Who're those guys?"

"Hmm?"

"In your poster, I have always wanted to ask you that," I pointed at the big poster Liv had stuck on her wall in our first year.

She looked at me, her brows raised up to her forehead and her mouth agape, "You don't know One Direction?"

"I mean, I have heard of them. Are they any good?" I remembered my friends back home making me listen to a song of theirs, "What makes you beautiful', it was catchy but I never dug deeper into them. I didn't even know why.

"Only the best," her mouth was set into a hard line, but her forehead was covered in creases as though she was thinking deeply about something.

"Come on, I'll show you their songs. I don’t why we’ve never done this before.”

This commenced a whole night of one direction albums, music videos, their documentary, and their recent concert film. She even called Ashley to our room, which began an intense lesson on the fandom ships, theories, and dramas. It was a busy night.

By the next day, I was more knowledgable about one direction than I had ever intended to be. I didn't it mind it though, I got to further learn the inner makings of my best friend.

I had to admit, I was a little partial towards Harry Styles, his name had become a personal favourite of mine. Plus, he was cute.

I also noticed how clumsy he was on stage. Constantly falling down, mid-performances. It was hilarious. Olivia told me that's just how he was. Goofy, dorky, always telling lame jokes.

“Do you know one direction?”

I waited for his reply, this one took longer than our previous ongoing conversation. I didn't like it when he replied late.

“Yes.”

“Olivia introduced me to them.”

“Who do you like the best?”

I didn't even have to think about it at all, “Harry styles.”

I hoped he was smiling, where ever he was.

“Really? Not my personal favourite.”

That idiot. My face was hurting from smiling so much. I wondered how I would even be in this guy's presence without physically hurting my cheeks.

But I knew I wouldn't mind it, as long as I could be with him.

“Who do you like then?”

“You.”

I had never known how successful my dream of becoming a journalist could be. All I knew of back then was my talent for writing and my passion to make my voice heard. And it was all I had ever needed.

Rolling Stone was a magazine only a few could say they were not familiar with. And even fewer who wrote for it.

I was one lucky girl, who worked through countless unpaid internships before finally landing a job at this prestigious place. I had written quite a few articles under the politics section of the magazine.

I kept up with Harry over the years, at this point I knew basically everything about him, except for what he did for a living, where he lived, and who he was. But I loved him. And I waited for him, even if did get tiring at times.

Everywhere I went, it felt like everyone had found their soulmates except for me. I was the one girl standing alone in the middle of a dance floor during a couple's song.

All these years he still seemed none the closer to me.

We still found joy in tripping each other during random hours of the day though; Falling for him was the highlight of my day.

"Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I'll pull him to me."

I had a rocky relationship with my parents, they had never believed in me, too busy in their own love story to pay attention to their only daughter. I couldn't hold it against them though if you had something as beautiful as they did, why would you focus on anything else.

I sigh in bitterness as my Mom rambled on about how she met my Dad. Although I had heard the story a billion times, it still made me smile. Then, reminded me how I didn't have that.

My phone started vibrating next to me, I looked at it to find it was my boss calling me. I tilted my head upwards, trying to recall if I had informed her of my visit to my parents' house. I had.

Confused, I picked up the phone, "Y/N, you need to come to the office now. We need you to take over the article Rob Sheffield was supposed to write," my boss's commanding voice instantly hits my ears, making me flinch backwards.

"Wait, what?"

"Rob had an urgent business to attend to and you are the only replacement available." Her voice carried her usual urgency.

"But Rob is a music journalist, I write politics." Her words were rushing past me and it was getting harder for me to keep up.

"Obviously I know that, but as I said you are the only replacement available, everyone else is already working on their pieces. Come to the office and get your assignment. Now." When I was told my boss did not joke around, they were not kidding.

As soon as she hung up, I started packing up my stuff. I explained to my Mom about the situation, her shoulders slumped, I knew she really wanted to spend more time with me, but she sighed, nodding her head in understanding.

Walking into the Rolling Stone's office every day still brought me back to my first day here. When I was a twenty-three-year-old naive girl, with a heart full of determination and a head full of ideas.

The elevator doors opened and my eyes fell upon the old Rolling Stone covers hung from the wall, they looked like gold records in a music studio. I walked down the lobby to the reception and asked Ally if my boss was available.

I knocked at her door, patiently waiting for her to invite me in. Three years later and I was still deathly afraid of her.

"Y/n, you are going to interview Harry Styles. You'll leave for LA tomorrow morning, and meet him first thing after landing, hang out with him a couple days, get to know him, this is going to be the cover story. I know music is not your department but right now I really don't have any other option. Do your research all day today, we'll publish the article in next month's issue. It better be good." She clicked her fingers, pointing them at me and then shooed me away from the entrance of her cabin.

"Harry Styles huh," I walked towards my desk remembering all the late-night dance parties I had with Liv and Ashley during college, blasting all of One direction's hits, discussing fan theories and whatnot.

The familiar pull nay yank brought me back to the present, on my office floor, with my colleagues watching over the all too familiar scene.

A smile graced my lips, at this point I had lost the ability to feel shame. I sat down on my desk and pulled at my thread.

“You will pay for this.”

“I am ready when you are, Lovie.”

How was our relationship ever going to work if I was ready to melt any time he called me that.

I knew he was waiting for me to trip him, but I didn't. I would get him when he wouldn't expect it. Not today sir, not today.

I went to start researching on Harry Styles and preparing my questions for tomorrow. A groan escaped my lips as I slammed my forehead on the table, this was not enough time.

Harry Styles was a multi-millionaire, platinum record selling artist with millions of fans. He was portrayed to be this womaniser, who played with people's hearts. But, the first thing I learnt about him during my research was of his kind heart.

I surfed through countless videos of his interactions with fans, clips from his concerts, conversations with paparazzi and not once did I find him in a bad mood or as someone less than the absolute model of perfection. Everybody had bad days, well everyone but Mr.Styles apparently.

As someone only writing about the people in power; the politicians, the stark deviance from my usual subjects was a well-welcomed change.

He was a part of various charities, always preaching about love and kindness. Honestly, I was a little jealous of how lucky his soulmate was, to have someone like him.

After reading possibly everything I could about Harry, I started working on the questions I would ask him. I was determined to know how he managed to be the way he was. How he remained calm even after constantly being harassed by fans and paps alike; How after all these years, he still didn't let the fame get to his head.

I woke up the next morning feeling weird tingles in my stomach, I wasn't able to determine if it was good or bad. I went about my usual routine trying to ignore the tingly feeling. I read through my questions again, I had formed a sort of admiration for Harry (the singer) and I wasn't going to embarrass myself when it mattered the most.

I checked myself in the mirror one last time, feeling good with the outfit I went for- a tan, high-waisted lace-up jumpsuit. My confident outfit seemed like compensation for the nerves running through my body.

My mind wandered to my soulmate for a second, wondering what he must be up to right now. I looked up at myself in the mirror again and saw the smile on my face. Only for you, partner. I shook my head, picked up my suitcase and left for the airport.

The last thing I wanted to do after a six-hour flight was to meet an international celebrity, but I shrugged, a job was a job.

The deli we were supposed to meet at was a quaint place, the two ladies working there were incredibly sweet. They greeted me with the widest smiles and escorted me to a semi-secluded corner when I told them about the purpose of my visit. They doted about Harry, who I concluded was a regular here, calling him 'my love'.

Harry hadn't arrived yet and I was starving, the fragrance of different foods in the deli wafted to my nose, serving as a constant reminder of my hunger. The ladies whose names I had learnt to be Gloria and Raisa noticed my condition and offered to bring me a sandwich, but I declined the offer, not wanting to order before Harry's arrival, considering it to be a bit rude.

But, ever the saviour Harry entered the deli soon after, I admit I released a long breath in relief, I would finally get to order.

Harry's presence was like a force of nature, no one could escape it. I stood up from my seat, without thinking twice as if something compelled me to honour it. I couldn't pry my eyes away from him, and I didn't want to. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Every step of his brought him closer to me, the weird tingles I had been feeling all morning intensified, crawling up to every part of my body. I wanted something, anything to help me ground myself.

My hands frantically searched around for my thread, and as soon as my fingers made contact with the string of fate, the familiar calm washed over me.

Maybe in my frantic state, I pulled the string too hard. I winced, almost closing my eyes as Harry's expression changed into one of panic, his eyes widening as he fell forward. I worried about my Harry as well, realising how hard I must have pulled the thread.

Oh.

OH.

I rushed towards Harry, helping him up. When my hand touched his bicep, a warmth started flooding through my veins, locking eyes with him, I knew he was experiencing the same thing as well.

We both looked down towards our hands and a red string was seen connecting our pinkies. We met each other's eyes again.

"Hi," he gave me a toothy grin. I could die a thousand times for his smile.

"Hello," his eyes, a little sunken, were the most beautiful green I had ever seen, I could spend a lifetime getting lost in them.

"Well since I've already fallen for you, how abou' we go out to eat something. Oh wait, we're already here." His chest was out, and his eyes gleamed at his statement, he was weirdly proud of his jokes.

My entire body shook, I didn't know if I was laughing at his ‘Pick up line' or the situation. I was standing in front of my soulmate, whom I've pined after all my life, only for him to turn out to be Harry fucking Styles.

His brows furrowed in concern as I continued laughing, even he realised his joke was not funny enough to prompt this big of a guffaw.

I took a step back, my hands reaching up to rest on the sides of my face, tears were streaming down my face from laughing too much. Harry's contorted face making me laugh louder. I could not stop.

He reached out his hands and wrapped them around mine. I noted how big his hands were compared to mine, warmer too. "Hey, are you okay?"

I nodded my head, taking deep breaths to calm myself. When I seemed to have a hold on my laugh, another round burst from me. I started shaking again.

At this point, Harry had given up on me and started laughing as well. We were garnering unneeded attention but we couldn't stop. I noticed from the corner of my eyes, Gloria and Raisa were hovering around us protectively, not letting anyone come near us. Angels.

After several minutes or hours, we stopped for good. And even though my stomach was hurting like a bitch, my smile couldn't have been wider.

"So, it's you huh," I started, bringing Harry to my table, "My soulmate heh." My palms were getting sweaty, I tried to subtly wipe them on my pants.

He sat across me, reaching out and grabbing my hands in his again. I changed our hand positions, interlocking my fingers with his. The red string between us lengthening and shortening constantly, conforming to our movements.

He nodded, a smile ever-present on his face. He released a small breath, his shoulders slumped slightly, "I've dreamed of this moment for years. It's good to finally meet you, Lovie."

A weird gurgle-like sound left my mouth. My eyes widened as I covered my mouth, horrified and embarrassed at the same time.

He just looked amused, raising his eyebrows as if to ask me what the fuck was that.

"It's just, it keeps hitting me that this moment is real. That you are here in front of me and you are the Harry Styles-" my eyes continued to dart down to the striking red colour of the thread I was so accustomed to not seeing "-But like you are also just Harry, who I've known all my life."

"I get tha', I do," he nodded fervently, "All my life, I pictured a faceless girl when I imagined a life with you. Now everything seems complete, like the final piece of the puzzle has been placed and I can see my life as a whole picture and I see you with me," he then shrugged his shoulders, wanting to be seen nonchalant.

Hearing him reflect on everything that I've been feeling as well, brought tears in my eyes. He noticed my eyes getting glassy,

"Was it too much too soon?" His fingers were slightly tapping on the table, he kept looking down at our joined hands and biting his lips. My eyes fell to his lips, I hadn't noticed how pink they were.

"No, no, not at all," my hold on his hands tightened as I shook my head, trying to ease his nerves as well.

I went silent for a minute, not sure if I should continue before starting to tap a pattern on the table. One I hoped he would get without having to write it down.

“I love you.”

If the smile on his face were to say anything, it was that he got it. Of course, he would.

Our fingers started to tingle, pulling our attention towards them as we watched the red string starting to disappear.

When it seemed to be fully gone, I traced my hand around the table, checking if I could still feel it, I couldn't. It had really gone away.

I knew this would happen, but it didn't make saying goodbye any easier. Harry brought our hands together again, catching my attention again, "I don't need the string any more, I have you in my arms now." He rested his forehead on mine, breathing slowly.

He then brought my hands up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on my knuckles. Causing a soft gasp to leave my lips. I swear he would kill me one day.

"I love you too, Lovie."

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #soulmate au #fluff #harry styles fluff #invisible string #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

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kiwi-the-first · 4 years ago

Text

The Best Lover In The Parsec

Oneshot

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Fandom: Star Wars/The Mandalorian

CW: Fluff oh gods so much fluff, *slaps roof of the fic* this baby can fit so much yearning in it! Salt bae angst action, guest appearance of one(1) line of having the word "making love" and including one corny joke.

TW: mention of near death experience,self loathing,body image issues,canon-typical violence.

A/N: I keep mentioning it, this is my first piece of fanfiction writing. So I really really hope you guys like it. I am scared shitless. Never thought I'd ever write this but 2020 said fuck it you're writing fanfics now. Special thanks all of my writer friends for encouraging,helping and inspiring me everyday into making this happen. Iysm!

Enjoy!

- Kiwi

Masterlist

You.

He didn't know what to do with you.

He couldn't explain what you made him feel.

He couldn't explain how you made him feel.

But he knew the answers, he knew the words to describe it. He knew the scent of you and the dreamy sigh that escapes him everytime,he enters the fresher after your shower.

He knew the sound of your voice and how it soothes his longing soul and fills in for the silence of the crest, or "home" as you liked to call it.

How he instantly melted after hearing you speak his name for the first time.

You knew it was sacred due to his creed but he had insisted that he trusted you well enough to tell you.

“Din Djarin?” you asked and he nodded.

“What a beautiful name” you smiled.

He breathing hitched and swore to the Mythosaur he never saw anything as pure as that. Well maybe the kid but he was your foundling so of course.

You two are the most precious purposes to him.

Your eyes, so beautiful that he couldn't stop looking at them, a colour picked by nature itself and poured in by artists. Filled with a cacophony of emotions he willingly drowned into.

He knew the curves and nicks of your body.

You trusted him,let him be near you and patch you up when needed. He knows your loathing regarding it,knows the borderline ambiguity and acceptance you have towards loving yourself.

He knows how you confine yourself in the mere image of a fighter.

He knows it well because he does it too. Still he thinks that you manage to be kinder than he could ever be.

You. He keeps falling for you. Deeper and deeper in an infinite pit of ecstasy that most would call love.

You're all on his mind lately. Still he doesn't know what to do.

He knew your actions.

He knew how you fight, how you patch him up,how you show your affection in silent gestures. Ways you cradle the kid and play little games with him but also scold him when it’s needed. The way his chest tightens with that one particular feeling, seeing the two of you like that.

The three of you are safe,laughing just enjoying each other’s presence and looking like a perfect family,an aliit.

Everytime he associates the word with you two he feels a wave of calmness crash over him.

But he’d be lying if it also didn’t make him want to be disintegrated by his own pulse rifle. It was too much how you constantly took care of the two of them.

How you silently admire him when you think he's looking at the stars. When in reality he's looking at you.

He’s always looking at you, looking out for you two.

But do you feel it too? He doesn't have the courage to ask.

He never did. He'd die a thousand different deaths as a coward than be left alone without you beside him.

Your soul, the purest most perfect thing to him deserves someone better. That is what he constantly told himself.

He never intended to be vulnerable with a stranger yet there you were and here he was. But only you weren't a stranger,not anymore.

If he hadn't known any better he would go as far as calling you his soulmate. Silly it may seem.

A big,bad Mandalorian bounty hunter believing in soulmates, but it was the truth.

You're the one holding his heart. But still he doesn't know what to do.

But then it changed, years of travelling together and months on the run raising the little green bean whom you both love and protect with your entirety. Maybe this was where it all ended.

He has been in bad situations before, true. But death was something he never thought he'd have to possibly greet in front of you.

He first noticed your eyes, all the other emotions were set aside as they made room for fear and hopelessness of losing him. Your pretty lips that he always craved to kiss were trembling as you held him close to you.

One hand holding his as tightly as possible while the other cradled under his neck.

He knew he should've told you, he wanted to, desperately. But surely, he couldn't do it now...right? You didn't deserve a last moment declaration of love but lose said lover and live in vain for the rest of your life.

But the maker played him again. Surprise!surprise! He didn’t die.

After the chaos and dangers were all done, the three of you left Nevarro, and the crest jumped into hyperspace he started to prepare himself.

You barely spoke to him as you were down in the hull with the kid.

After you tucked in the kid in the sleeping compartment and came to the cockpit to sit down he started preparing.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he was still silent and...well he scoffed at himself, still ‘’preparing’’.

But suddenly you got up from your seat, fumbling a little, clearly trying to say something.

"I need to talk to you" his entire body froze.

Whatever it was, it scared him. He felt nauseous all of a sudden.

"...about today".

Oh, his anxiety got the best of him. He was always the rusher and in the moment of weakness he couldn't control himself.

"Mando I think you shou-"

"I'm in love with you" he felt his voice slightly crack.

You blinked once,twice, mouth slightly agape. Tears started pooling in your eyes…

Shit shit shit shit it wasn't supposed to happen like this!!!

You were probably telling him how you'd much rather be without him and be safe far away from him and he fucked it all up.

Again he was gonna ruin something because he had no self restraint.

He was confused when you lurched your body to his chest, hugged him tightly and started sobbing.

Was this normal? When a person wants to leave you they don't do thi-

He heard your shaky voice let out a breath and then a

"I love you too"

Huh?

Oh-

OH!

He could faint right now. He could die and be alive again. If someone told him to befriend a jedi right now he would.

It took him a while to process your words,probably because of that brain injury IG informed him about, he thought to himself.

He was irrevocably happy.

Just...happy...and sated, but he also felt like someone ran over him with a mudhorn.

You loved him. You loved him.

You loved him back.

You-

He looks down at you. Sleeping silently curled up against him, holding him close.

This has been like that ever since.

Ever since you both declared that all those touches were indeed electrocuting,that all those late night heart-to-hearts weren't just conversations to pass the time,how he longed to take your hands in his.

Or how you wanted to take off his kriffing helmet so that you could see his eyes and what they hid, or kiss his lips yet you resisted.

It’s been a while, he thinks.

Since you settled down for your happy ending...or was it a beginning? He likes to think it's a little bit of both.

It was something he'd never thought he'd have. Since you learnt that the kid’s people were gone. Since the kid truly became your own in every sense.

But frankly if he was being honest Din didn’t ever want to give him away and neither did you. Your son,your Ad’ika. You now had the privilege to call him that with the permission from The Armorer.

Since your Riduurok.

Since he was allowed to take off his helmet and finally, you finally got to let your emotions run free.

To finally see his face and hold him close. To feel his lips and his warmth.

The memory of your tears of unsung victory and joy still elevates his heartbeat.

Since you had made love and you laughed at his messed up curls in the morning after.

"Thanks for letting me in" you kissed his knuckles and he sighed contently.

"You did too" you furrowed your brows "I-"

"Literally" he winked, "oh? waiT YOU- EWW!!!" he was laughing hard as he dodged the pillow you threw at him.

"And to think! Your'e a responsible father!"

"Make a pervy joke again and I'll murder you" you grumbled. You kept laughing in each other's arms as he held you close

He still chuckles at the memory.

Now baby didn’t mind having a stable life with his buirs either.

You sighed in your sleep. The morning lights were seeping in through the slightly opened windows.

Sunbeams slowly making their ways into the room and enveloping your bodies.

Your eyes crinkled in your sleep and you mumbled something and cuddling closer to him, if that were possible.

The kid will be up soon too and the thought alone makes him smile.

Yet another day with the two of you.

It was a free day for both of you and between your magnificent existence and snorting at Ad’ika running around,babbling and being the cutest menace. He knew he’d survive.

He looks down at you again and he's reminded of all the things that he loves about you.

Now including how much you also love him. He could feel your heart beat,it is the best genre of music to him.

He felt the warmth again, not from the sunlight but from his infinite loop of affection for you.

“Ner Ali’it” he called you.

He'll bask in this for as long as you'd allow him and gladly, you promised to allow him forever.

He may be the best bounty hunter in the parsec but he never tried to be the best lover.

He simply couldn't!

For that title already had an owner,

You.

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

TAGS: @dindjarindiaries

@spacegayofficial

@lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache

@dindjarinsleftvambrace

@mitchi-c

@the-real-xhorse

@hdlynn

@deafmandalorian

@cheesecake-madness

@duchessnibenhu-ofpyromania

@oloreaa

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luvidzy · 3 years ago

Text

☆ genre: fluff, flower-shop!au

☆ pairing: jin yonghoon x reader

☆ summary: a man walks into your flower shop one day and completely changes everything in your life

☆ word count: 2.3k

The sunlight streamed in through the large glass windows of the store. The AC blew a light breeze through the main room, and you allowed yourself to deeply inhale the soft floral scents of the flower shop.

You always believed that getting a job here was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to you. It was so rare for people to find jobs that they truly loved, especially on the first try, but it seemed like you had been one of the lucky ones.

The day was fairly slow, as most of the weekdays were. A few people came in looking for bouquets for special anniversaries, or to ask about ordering a few arrangements for parties, but other than that you had been left alone to enjoy the ambience of the store and read a little bit of the book you always kept behind the counter.

You had only gotten a few pages through when the bell above the door chimed. Placing your bookmark softly into the book, you placed it on the counter and stood up to greet the customer.

“Welcome to Start of Spring, what can I help you with today?” you asked, moving to get a better view of the man that had just walked in. He was tall, with brown hair and brown eyes. He had his hands tucked into a tan overcoat, a white turtleneck peeking out from underneath it as he strolled into the shop. He was incredibly handsome and you could feel your cheeks heat up a bit as you watched him.

He turned to you and beamed. You had to shake yourself out of it, reminding yourself that you could not fall for a man that you had literally just met. He removed one of his hands to wave at you politely as you made your way closer to him.

“Hi! I need a bouquet of flowers, but I have absolutely no idea what kind to get. Do you think you could help me out?” he asked. You nodded happily, a smile slipping onto your face. You loved when customers didn’t have a specific flower arrangement in mind. It meant that you could take the reins and make something beautiful from scratch, just the way you preferred to do it.

“Sure! Usually I recommend making a bouquet of flowers that represent the occasion or what feeling you want to convey,” you explained, looking up at the stranger. You saw his eyebrows furrow a bit in confusion, and couldn’t help but giggle at how his nose scrunched as the gears in his brain turned.

“Flowers are a language. Each flower has a meaning, and even different flower colors can mean different things. It’s an amazing way to tell someone something when you can’t find the words to say it aloud,” you said, before pointing to the large bucket full of tulips that you were in front of.

“Tulips represent love, warmth, and comfort, so we usually include them in bouquets for anniversaries or weddings. Hibiscuses,” you pointed to the vibrant red flowers beside the tulips, “symbolize delicate beauty, so we include those in bouquets for dates, and even bouquets for certain family members.”

The stranger nodded, his lips parted in slight awe. He couldn’t help but observe you as you rambled on about the language of flowers, your eyes sparkling. Finally, you turned to look back up at him with a wide smile on your face.

“So tell me, what kind of message do you want to convey….?” You trailed off as you realized you’d never gotten the name of the customer that was in front of you.

“Yonghoon. My name is Yonghoon,” He finally spoke up, a shy smile slipping onto his lips. You smiled and nodded.

“What message do you want to convey, Yonghoon?”

“Well, these are flowers for some friends of mine. They have been working really hard lately with our new project, and I want to give them something to show how thankful I am. Our apartment is pretty dull, so I thought some flowers would be a good idea,” Yonghoon explained.

You nodded, taking in the information, before moving towards the counter to pull out a notepad. “Well, yellow roses often symbolize friendship, so I think those would be an obvious choice. Irises are seen as a symbol of admiration, and they’ll compliment the yellow of the roses quite nicely. And then I think some pink tulips would also fit well with the yellow and the white of the irises,” you said, jotting some things down on the paper.

“I thought you said tulips represent love?” Yonghoon said, which caused you to laugh.

“I did, but I also said different colors can mean different things. Red tulips mostly mean love, but pink tulips represent happiness,” you explained, before handing him the list you had written with the flowers and their meaning.

“Does this look good? Or would you like me to add anything?” Yonghoon’s eyes darted across your neat handwriting, before looking up with a smile.

“This looks perfect. You really know your flowers,” he joked. You chuckled, before moving to collect the flowers you’d need for the bouquet.

“I’d hope so. I’ve only worked here for 2 years.” Yonghoon laughed at your quip, his eyes following as you darted across the shop, plucking flowers carefully from their buckets and gathering them delicately in one hand.

Finally you walked back over towards him, tying the flowers together with a piece of string and wrapping them elegantly in brightly colored tissue paper.

“There, all finished,” you said, holding the masterpiece out to Yonghoon. He smiled at it, gently grabbing it with one hand. As he did, your fingers brushed and you felt yourself flinch slightly at the feeling of electricity that ran down your spine. Despite this, you forced yourself to ignore the now pounding heart in your chest in favor of grabbing the credit card Yonghoon was holding out to you.

“Thank you…?”

“Y/N,” you responded as you handed him his card back. He smiled softly as he slipped the plastic back into his pocket.

“A beautiful name. Thank you, Y/N,” he said, giving you one last nod before exiting out the door. You plopped back down into the chair as you reached for your book, letting out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. You shook your head, blaming your flustered state on the heat because, even though you knew the A/C was on, you didn’t want to admit the real reason for your burning cheeks.

Much to your surprise, Yonghoon continued to come in every week with a new reason to buy flowers. Each visit got longer and longer, with him asking millions of questions on different flowers to the point where you almost couldn’t answer them. However, as much as you did not want to admit it, you didn’t mind the visits he made. He was incredibly easy to talk to, his smile made your heart melt in your chest, and he seemed genuinely interested in everything that you said. Week after week, you found yourself falling deeper and deeper for Yonghoon, and every week you became a little less opposed to the idea of his visits.

Meanwhile, Yonghoon was enjoying every visit that he made to your store. His bandmates, however, could not say the same. Their dorms had been turned into a small flower shop of their own and, while it was pretty, it was not very functional.

“Yonghoon, I can’t even find a spot to put my coffee cup down on the table!” Kanghyun whined as he plopped down onto the couch next to his leader. The other boys nodded their heads in agreement, making mentions of the countless other things that Yonghoons flowers stopped them from doing. Yonghoon pouted as he slumped into his seat, arms crossed.

“But I have no other reason to go see them but to get flowers! I’m sorry that love comes at such a beautiful price,” Yonghoon huffed dramatically. Dongmyeong rolled his eyes as he sat up, crossing his legs.

“Why don’t you just tell them how you feel?” “Are you crazy? What if they say no?”

“They won’t. I’m sure they’re just as enamored with you as you are them. Come on, you can even do it in an extremely dramatic and romantic way, since that’s what you like best,” Harin argued, earning a punch in the shoulder from Yonghoon, who sighed soon after.

“Fine. But if this goes wrong, I’m never getting rid of these flowers.”

2 months after his first visit, Yonghoon walked into the flower shop already greeting you as you sat behind the counter reading as you usually did. You looked and grinned at him, the grin that made Yonghoon’s own heart flutter, before closing your book and standing up.

“Why welcome back. What can I do for you today, Yonghoon?” you asked, pulling out your pen and notepad to write down the flowers that he would need. He smiled as he leaned against the counter and smirked.

“I need a bouquet to confess to someone. I want it to be incredibly romantic, the whole 9 yards, you know?” Yonghoon said. You froze as you heard the words slip out of your mouth. A bouquet to confess to someone should not have made your heart sink the way that it did, but the thought of him romancing another person with the flowers you recommended made you want to throw up and cry at the same time.

“I… I see. Well, why don’t you tell me about them so I can recommend you a bouquet,” you asked, trying to settle your shaky voice. If Yonghoon noticed, he didn’t say anything as he continued to smile.

“Well, they’re extremely pretty and super smart. They are kind and generous, and always know how to make me laugh. I always feel warm when I’m with them, like I just drank the best hot chocolate, and they’re the perfect combination of tough and delicate,” he rambled, listing off thing after thing. Each note that you wrote down about this mystery person had your heart aching. This person sounded perfect, and you were happy for Yonghoon, but you couldn’t help but pity yourself at the fact that he was not buying these flowers for you.

“Well I think red roses are a must… and probably some peonies as well for beauty. We could add some carnations as well, if you’d like?” you asked, trying not to look at Yonghoon. You heard him hum in thought for a moment, before shifting his weight a little bit.

“I think some red tulips and maybe some hibiscuses would be nice,” Yonghoon said. You nodded quickly, writing them down, before handing the list to him with trembling fingers. His eyes scanned it like the first time he had come into the shop, before he beamed and nodded.

“Perfect!” You swallowed harshly, before moving to gather the flowers. You moved slowly, trying to stop the tears that threatened to prick your eyes with each flower that you picked up and held in your grasp.

Finally you had a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers, wrapping them gently and making them look as elegant as you could. After all, even if they were another person, you wanted Yonghoon to like them as much as you liked him.

“Here. I’m sure they’ll love them,” you said, plastering a small smile on your face in an attempt to not look as destroyed as you were feeling on the inside. Yonghoon chuckled lightly and nodded, smiling softly as he looked at the flowers.

“They’ll love them.” The credit card was exchanged, and then you both just stood there, neither of you speaking. You wished Yonghoon would just leave so you could cry in peace, but he fidgeted with the tissue paper around the flowers, his feet seemingly glued to the spot across the counter.

“It’s much harder to do this than I thought,” Yonghoon chuckled out. You looked at him in confusion, trying to figure out what he meant. It was only when you finally looked at his face, making eye contact with him, that he let a warm smile melt across his face, his hands moving to hold the flowers out.

“Is there something wrong with them?” you asked, reaching to take them and inspecting them to try and find the issues. Yonghoon chuckled, running a hand through his silky brown hair, before shaking his head.

“No, they are for you.” You felt like the world had just stopped around you. Your hands froze and you stared at him, mouth parted in surprise. These were for you? But he had said he wanted to use them to confess, and had even described the person to you!

“You were the person that I was describing, and I do want to confess. I want to confess to you,” Yonghoon replied, and you flushed as you realized that your thoughts had been spoken aloud. You held the flowers carefully to your chest, before looking up at him with eyes full of happiness.

“You idiot. You scared me, I thought you were buying these for another person!” you said, reaching out to hit his shoulder playfully. Yonghoon’s expression dropped as he realized his mistake and he sighed, before letting out a weak chuckle.

“Guess I’m not great at this confessing thing.”

“No… you’re wonderful at it. Seriously this is the cutest thing anyone has ever done for me. You used the thing that I love the most to tell me that you like me, and that overshadows any stupid assumptions I may have made,” you said. His expression lit up at your words and he smiled at you brightly.

“Does that mean I have permission to take you on a date?” He asked hopefully. You pretended to think, before nodding eagerly, giggling as you did so.

“It does, but next time buy me flowers from a different flower shop. I want to be surprised.” Yonghoon nodded happily, before he made his way behind the counter to give you a hug.

You melted into his arms, happily hugging him back with affection. There was nothing more perfect than hugging the man you loved in the place that you loved, and you were lucky enough to have that.

#onewe #onewe x reader #onewe imagines #onewe scenarios #onewe fluff #jin yonghoon #jin yonghoon onewe #jin yonghoon x reader #jin yonghoon imagines #jin yonghoon fluff #yonghoon x reader #yonghoon imagines #yonghoon fluff #yonghoon onewe

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joyfulhopelox · 4 years ago

Text

Red Gardenia

Pairing: Park Jimin x reader (non-idol!au, ballet!au)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 7k (she the biggest one yet)

rating: pg

Summary: As a minor ballet dancer in the corps du ballet, suddenly thrown into the limelight you are struggling to cope with the pressure, but when a secret admirer with a love for gardenias comes forth you realise that you may actually be able to do it

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

I want to throw the massivest thank you to my beta the amazing and talented @rosietae she's been the rock that supported this foundation and prevented it from crumbling. I had 2 breakdowns and a couple of identity crises when I wrote this one and her help has been a major pick me up. She made this from a withering bud into a fully bloomed flower and I can't express my thanks to her enough!

This is part 2 of my Love Blossom series and the 3/25 square for the @bangtanwritingbingo event (square: Park Jimin)

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

Entrée

A grand pas de deux usually begins with an entrée (literally "entrance"), which serves as a short prelude to and also unequivocally denotes the beginning of the dance suite.

You could do this, you could do this. You could definitely do this. The mantra had been in your head for the past few days. You’d hoped that the psychology articles about daily affirmations you read would work, but it proved to be more difficult than you thought.

Instead you felt like you wasted 10 minutes of your practice time, to stupidly look at yourself in the mirror. For those 10 minutes you kept telling yourself that you were able to dance as the main act in the show your ballet school had signed you up for. Maybe you were not doing it right; probably because you disconnected from those positive affirmations very often. So indeed, those 10 minutes were a waste of time.

Your mouth would say ‘you can do it’ but your brain would instantly doubt you, doubt your skills. You were always a dancer in the background and no one ever complimented your dancing more than necessary. How could you believe in yourself when, for years that’s all that it had been? Was all that doubt supposed to disappear just because all of a sudden you were called by your ballet master informing you of the big role change? You had been specifically picked to dance with one of the most prominent ballet dancers that your school had produced: none other than Park Jimin himself.

Everyone knew of him. He travelled abroad multiple times to be the star of a lot of performances. From New York, to Moscow, to Hong Kong, everyone had seen him in at least one performance. This, as well as the fact that you were a couple of years his junior, and in the corps du ballet instead of a soloist, had made it impossible for you to catch more than a glimpse of him around the school. But of course you had heard of him and his stellar performance. Everyone in your school had, but very few actually had the chance to interact with him. He seemed to have a small group of friends that he mostly spent his time with, but no one else seemed to have gotten the chance to get close to him, which instantly made him a snob in your eyes. He probably had the personality of Narcissus himself. Always so high up his own, it made it difficult for him to get the reality check from the people down below. No matter how much your friends berated you for thinking this way, you were certain you were right.

So imagine your surprise when you were told you had been picked for a pas de deux and he was to be your partner. Surprised was a very mild word for how you really felt. Astonished, perplexed? Those two seemed more appropriate. Not only had you been picked to perform on the stage outside of your usual group but you had the famous wonder boy Jimin as your partner.

For the first few days your friends would only see and hear your excited smile and squeals. You had been waiting so long for this opportunity to come by and now you finally had the chance to prove yourself. No one even threw a second glance at the dancers in the corps du ballet. As a group, you were all there to tie in the loose ends that the soloists and main dancers could not. You were the background of a painting. Without it, the painting was incomplete, but no one observed it in detail. It was not as if you were thinking ill of your fellow dancers, but you had promised yourself and your parents when you chose ballet as your profession that you would make it big. You would stand on that stage and perform as a soloist, in the light, the piece de resistance. And so you worked hard to be noticed. Asking extra questions during lessons, making sure you did the movements perfectly. Staying after hours in the abandoned studio to practice until your feet hurt and bled,having to ice your muscles every night, going home late and heading back out early, the tears, the criticism. It didn’t matter to you. You had a dream. And now, all that hard work seemed to pay off. You would be there on that stage in the limelight.

Soon enough though, reality set in after the second meeting you had with the ballet master. You realised the pressure of not only having to be a main performer, but also standing on the stage with the pride of your school. Your demeanor instantly changed. Instead of exaltation, you were filled with dread and anxiety.

Heading to your locker,you grabbed your gym bag, ready for another hour of basic ballet techniques before you met up with your friends.

“Hey, Y/N, the artistic director is looking for you” they motioned to the general direction of where the offices were.

“After class?” you inquired and they nodded at you.

You gulp, what if they are going to pull you away from the show? You don’t let that thought fester in your head for too long because a red flower taped to your locker caught your attention.

“Oooooh, I see they’re at it again” your friend teased, lightly nudging you with their elbow. You smiled softly to yourself and gently peeled off the tape.

A red gardenia, secret love. Whoever had been harbouring these feelings for you, had been doing it for almost 3 months. They had yet to confess their feelings to you. At the beginning you thought it was a scam and scoffed at the flower, throwing it away whilst telling your friends your opinion of ‘poor jokes like these’. A few weeks after that the flowers kept coming in. You finally accepted that it was not a prank, and someone was expressing their genuine admiration and love for you, when one day along with the gardenia a note waited for your attention.

‘Please accept my feelings’ that was it, no name and no indication of who it may be. But it did make you realise that this person was real, and you instantly felt ashamed of the flowers that you had thrown away until then. Had they noticed you doing that? You hoped not. If they had come out and admitted who they were, you would’ve apologised to their face about your insensitivity.

Without responding to your friend’s playful teasing, you gently put the flower behind your ear and turned around. “Let’s get going, or we’ll be late.”

Unbeknownst to you, a couple of lockers down, a boy with hair the colour of sand smiled fondly to himself, watching your form retreat.

Adagio 1

The adagio or adage (meaning "slowly") part of a grand pas de deux features graceful and elaborate partnering by the dancing pair. In the adagio, the ballerina performs elegant, often slow and sustained movements while the danseur supports her.

“Y/N, thank you for coming to see me before class” your ballet master said, motioning for you to take a seat. “Now, I have told you about the performance, but seeing as things are settling and the performance schedule of Swan Lake will be ending soon, I need to update you on yours.” All you could do was sit in silence and nod once in a while, trying to not look like an excited mess and potentially ruin your chances. After all, a ballerina had to have poise and grace, and if you ruined that image, the role could have been handed over to someone else easily.

Shuffling some papers on her desk, she fished a thick folder out of them and stuck it out for you to take.

“Is this the full schedule for the performance?” your voice wavered, seeing the enormity of the folder reminded you of the enormity of the situation. You were about to perform as a main dancer. No more the quiet mouse dancing in the back or the even worse placement of being a backup for a performance.

“Ah, no dear, this is just the contract. As you know, you will be working with our school’s pride, Park Jimin.” You tried your hardest to keep a neutral face and not scoff at that. Of course the teacher would be shoving Park Jimin’s greatness into your face. “And because he is an international dancer, we cannot afford to have him exposed to any potential issues that may arise if anything were to happen.” Her tight lipped smile stopped you from inquiring what she thought may go wrong, so instead you resigned with a nod of your head. Your friends would listen to your rant later, there was no need to explode in your teacher’s office.

After that encounter, which ended up with you not only being insulted as a ‘minor’ figure in the school as opposed to the illustrious Jimin, but also having to lug a contract as big as a dictionary.

“Who needs a contract as big as this? Who does he think he is? International star my foot” you huffed as you struggled to carry the said atrocity and your gym bag down the hall. “I mean, international dancer but also how much trouble does he get into to need so much coverage for his ass? I get it, his ass is big enough to need a hefty contract….!”

Your friends, who’d tried to warn you beforehand of the situation you ended up up stumbling in, gasped. You were not paying attention to where you were headed and oh so ungracefully smacked your head into someone’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry” not looking up, you bent down to pick the gym bag that fell off your shoulder on impact.

“It’s ok” a soft voice responded and you swear you can hear angels sing in your ear. You quickly glanced up, the gym bag long forgotten by now. You wanted to put a face to the melodious voice. And so the dream ended and the angel choir broke up. No longer apologetic, your face instantly dropped. It did not matter you have never interacted with him before and that for a first time meeting you were being incredibly rude. Not when the voice belonged to the one and only aforementioned Park Jimin.

“Oh, it’s you”

Smiling brightly at you he nodded, “it is me”.

His soft and plush features were enough to intimidate you. Not that he looked fierce, not by a long shot. It was the opposite, he looked so innocent it almost made you regret ever thinking he was a stuck up brat. Round cheeks, plump lips and eyes that reflected his bright smile, he looked handsome. His sand coloured hair and the blue contacts made him look princely handsome. And you hated it. “Are you Y/N by any chance?” you pondered whether or not you should have responded to him, but your friends made that decision for you before you could utter a word.

“Yes she is” they nudged you to say something. You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.

“Yes, hi….” you trailed off. You were not close enough for you to be calling him by his name before he even got the chance to introduce himself properly to you. “Jimin” he filled you in, offering you his hand to shake. Having little faith in you and your ability to be polite, your friends nudged you again in a silent warning to not push his hand away. You had to admit the thought had crossed your mind for a couple of seconds, but your parents had not raised you that way. Glaring at the offered hand, you grabbed it in a firm shake.

Jimin faltered a bit, your intense grimace making him think he was an inconvenience. “Well, uh, nice to meet you” you glanced at him, catching the shy look he was giving you before letting go of your hand and stepping aside. “I will not keep you any longer, I will see you later” He hurriedly retreated to his friends, who were on the side waiting for him. You observed the scene silently for a few seconds whilst chewing on your bottom lip. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you made him out to be. But when two of his friends laughed and patted his back in a congratulatory way, you instantly changed your mind.

Variation-Him

Upon completion of the adagio, the dancers separate and each dancer, in turn, takes center stage and performs a variation (1)

To say you had stopped thinking about the pretentious Park Jimin and the encounter you had would be a total lie. How could you, when you were meant to start practicing for your duet in a few days?

Not only that, but from someone who you’d barely see around the school, he turned into someone who would not leave your eyesight. Not by choice, though you would admit sometimes you would seek his form after hearing his laughter nearby. In your defence, he had a very light and airy voice, one that was instantly recognisable and so your traitorous eyes would be drawn to the sound.

Moreover, the way you treated him at the time, as well as the knowledge that you would be performing a pas de deux together, made it impossible for your peers not to gossip. And so, your name and his were strung together and uttered by everyone that would pass by you.

“It is becoming kind of annoying now,” you muttered angrily to your friends. They had tried their best to keep you level headed during the period but they were finding it more and more difficult to try to reason with you.

“Look Y/N, you are getting to perform on stage, with a great dancer” your friend raised their hand up and covered your mouth with it when you instantly tried to protest. “Nuh-uh, as much as you have a personal vendetta against him, you have to admit he is a great performer. This school does not pick talentless people'' you sighed, they were right. He was a good performer, but you were not ready to admit that yet. Not when that would have given him more rights to be prideful about it. Pushing your friends’ hand away, you whined, “He may be a great dancer, but that puts even more pressure on me to be good, otherwise any chance I may have had at a career as a main performer is gone!”

“Hey, you will be just fine! You got picked for a reason!” your friend tried to encourage you but you could only smile sadly at them, finding it hard to believe it. “Plus, your admirer seems to think so too” your friend smiled smugly at you.

Rolling your eyes at them you scoffed, “what, am I supposed to believe the words of someone who can’t even come out clean with who they are? All I know is that they could be someone who has no clue what they are talking about. I mean, they are confessing their love for me. I wouldn’t call that good taste.”

“Maybe you should,” the voice you had come to know very well over the past few weeks spoke from behind you. Confusedly, you turn around “huh?” did he happen to know something about it? Could it be him? Giving you a once over, Jimin cleared his throat. “Maybe you should, you know, hurry up. Our first practice starts in less than 10 minutes. Don’t know about you, but I would like to warm up before anything” his soft smile faltered when you glared at him. You couldn’t help it, spending so much time hating a made up version of him in your head made it impossible for you to warm up to the real version. And his last comment did grate your nerves, was he implying that you weren’t able to manage your time effectively?

You didn’t miss the slight hurt in his eyes as he passed by you, and against your better judgement your heart twinged. Saying a quick goodbye to your friends, you rushed down the corridor to catch up to him.

“Hey, Jimin” he didn’t stop. Not because he couldn’t hear you, but because the slightly panicked look on his face was not something he wanted you to witness. He had almost given himself away, but he couldn’t stand hearing you talk about his admiration and yourself in that way anymore. He tried to play it off as reminding you of the time, but then you gave him that look, a look that told him you really did not want anything to do with him. At that thought, he felt his heart drop to his stomach faster than he could say pas de chat.

“Jimin wait” he did not want to wait, but he listened to you. Why? Because even if you seemed to hate him with a passion, he would do anything for you.

You thought you had not met before, and in a way Jimin supposed you hadn’t. Not in person at least. But he was there when you had your performance for the entrance exam. To say he was entranced from the very beginning was an understatement. His eyes didn’t leave your form. Every pirouette, every arabesque, glissade, plie... you moved like silk in the wind: smooth, seamless, weightless. When your performance was finished, his heart felt weightless and completely enamoured.

He tried to talk to you after, but you disappeared as quickly as you had done your jete. All he was left with was your name from the application form and the hope that you would succeed in entering so he could see you again.

Bringing himself back to the present, he didn’t turn to face you, and you could not bring yourself to apologise, as the words got stuck in your throat. Instead, you walked a few steps ahead of him and stopped. Doing a silly turn on pointe you gave him an unsure smile, “you coming?”

Variation-Her

In general, the variations are intended to showcase spectacular, acrobatic leaps and turns, as well as the skills and athleticism of the individual dancers.

“Now, Y/N, what did I tell you? This has to be all allegro! Quick, quick, quick!” Your director clapped his hands as if to make a point of what quick meant. You nodded, your breath coming out in heavy pants. Having been practicing all the brisees and pas de chat for a good four hours, you were already tired. Your limbs felt like they were made of lead and your breath came out in shallow rasps.

“Once more” You bit your lip as you tried not to glare at them. You barely got a break and it was just the first week. You had a lot more weeks to perfect it. Indeed, it was not perfect and your insistence on not being closer to Jimin during the partnered moves made it even more awkward. The dance was just not flowing as it should have. Flower Festival in Genzano was a classical pas de deux performance, with rapt moves expressing the happiness and flirtation between two young lovers.

Yours portrayed more of a tragedy between two lovers than the blossoming of love between them. Your movements were adagio instead of alegro, and the swiftness of the intended movements were rough and unsure. Frustrated couldn’t even begin to explain how you were feeling.

Jimin, had yet to utter a word during this time , and in a way you were grateful. You didn’t think you could stand it if he’d opened his mouth to boast about his skills. His moves were graceful, quick, resembling a lark hopping through the grass. He had a lightness of movement that made you realise why he was called the wonder boy of the school. Looking as if he was as light as a feather, he breezed through his variation with ease.

“Y/N, come on, up up up!” the director clapped their hands impatiently. “Your variation from the beginning” gesturing you to get off the floor they restarted the musical accompaniment. Huffing in distress you quickly got on your feet, a sharp pain shooting up your calf. Grimacing you tried to get into position, but with the music being way ahead of your start you fumbled around to get into the right position. It only took a wrong turn of your ankle during a quicker brise for your whole leg to cramp causing you to fall into a heap on the floor.

“What are you doing? Up! From the beginning, you can’t be lazing around. Look at Jimin, he’s done his perfectly. You can’t be sullying his name like this.” Trying your hardest to hide the tears of pain and humiliation out of your eyes, you slowly got on your knees in an attempt to get off the floor.

“Uhm, maybe it would be better if we took a small break?” for the first time since you’ve started Jimin spoke up. Shooting him a stubborn scowl you pushed yourself up with great effort. Stumbling a bit from the pain in your leg you refused to give up. “No, I can do this”

“Y/N, look at you” he slowly approached you as if you were going to strike like an injured animal. And maybe that is how he viewed you. Weak and easily hurt by your lack of talent and professionalism. Before you could retort, the artistic director abruptly stopped the music.

“Yes, Y/N, look at you. You’re stiff and uncoordinated. You’re making the proverbial bull in a chinashop look like a ballerina. How can I let you perform next to Jimin? He’s an international star and he has a reputation to maintain. You’re doing your best to sully that” hurtful tears started pooling in your eyes. Maybe you should just withdraw now. Clearly, no one thought you were good enough. As if to confirm your unspoken thoughts, they carried on, “you were not my first choice by any chance. But you were asked for, specifically, so I had to comply. Please don’t treat this like you do with the corps du ballet.”

You tried your best to reign in your tears, you could not expose your feelings like that. One wrong move and they could’ve removed you from the performance.

“Sir, I think it is best we stop here for the day” Jimin suggested. Who was he to ask for such a thing? How dare he ask the artistic director to stop for the day, as if they would listen to him. “I, uh, forgot i have another meeting in half an hour and it’s best if I don’t miss it” you glanced at the two, a heavy feeling settling into your stomach when you observed the change in the director’s demeanour. Grovelling, he assured Jimin that you’d stop there for the day, flourishing his respect and admiration for how hardworking he was. With a last disappointed glance at you and a scoff, they exited the studio.

It was just you and Jimin left, the silence deafening. Pretending to be busy with tying your pointe shoes, you refused to glance at him. You felt disgraced and belittled. Even though you were aware that Jimin had said nothing against you or your performance, you couldn’t help but channel all your hurt into your behaviour towards him.

“You ok? You should go get that checked” finally gathering the courage to address you, Jimin crouched down to have a look at your leg. You retracted it instantly before his hand could touch you.

“I’m fine, don’t be late for your meeting” you snapped at him.

He observed you in silence for a few moments, and you didn’t know if it was the look on his face which screamed pity to you, his concern for your wellbeing, or the humiliation that you have faced because of him, but your anger levels increased exponentially.

“Look, you don’t need to pity me, I’m fine, just go and show the world your greatness and stop bothering with the likes of me” you huffed. “I’m clearly not good enough and need to improve” your voice softened. You knew you were angry at yourself and not at him. He’d been nothing but kind to you from the first moment you have spoken. Maybe that was why you were taking it all out on him. He was always close to perfect. And it irked you.

“I’m not pitying you. In fact, I admire you a lot.” His confession made you snap out of your thoughts and look at him in disbelief. His cheeks were tinted red and you couldn’t help but think of how cute he looked when he was bashful like that.

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered. “Why would you mean that?”

The silence that ensued, along with the uncertain look on his face, made you think that he would finally admit his joke and tell you that he didn’t mean it. He was him, and you were you. The thought made your heart ache.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he finally asked, and you were once again taken aback, not expecting the change in subject.

“I— don’t. You irritate me, but I don’t hate you,” at your words his expression instantly changed to confusion and a slither of hurt flashed across his face. You hurried to explain yourself, “look you are perfect, everyone clearly loves you, you are nice and everyone flocks around you like bees to honey. And it annoys me. But that is my shortcoming, and not your fault so forget I said that” you sat up quickly, the pain in your leg making it difficult. But a warm hand grabbed your forearm. You wanted to shake it off since you did not want his help, but the heat and support it provided was exactly what you needed. And in that moment you realised that, just like everyone else, you had fallen for him and his charms. He was definitely not what you wanted. What you wanted was to be able to perform to the best of your abilities, to stand on that stage proudly next to him. But what you actually needed was him, his soft words, and his sweet gestures that somehow managed to lift you up and nurse your pride, if only by a bit.

With that realisation, fear and determination gripped your heart. “You should go to your meeting” you nod towards the door. “I’ll be fine” seeing that he was prepared to protest, you added quietly, “please, I would like to be alone right now.”

With a heavy heart, Jimin let go of your arm and retracted slowly. Your words hurt, but they also gave him hope that he may actually stand a chance at becoming your rock. And for now that was all he wanted from you.

“Please rest and get that checked” He said, before he turned around and looked at you wistfully one last time, “I don’t really have a meeting to go to, but i will leave if you want me to”

His exit was swift and graceful, but his heart was heavy and uncertain. How could he make it better for you? How could he convince you to trust in your skills more? Suddenly, he got an idea and he prayed that it would work. It was a shot in the dark, but it was the only one he had.

Adagio 2

A few days after that, you were by your locker once again, with a red gardenia in your hands. With a letter grasped between your fingers, you decided you would read it later as you saw your partner approaching. You hadn’t practiced together since that day, left on your own with the artistic director to practice your variation. The first time you entered the studio and realised that Jimin would not be joining you had made you nervous.

As much as you’d tried to ignore it, it strengthened the realisation that you did need him. In such a short amount of time, he made it so that you saw him as comfort and protection. His soft demeanour and worried glances melted your resolve to loathe him. You were ready to admit you were wrong about him, but you did not get the chance to until now.

Approaching you, he smiled unsurely. You looked a lot better and a lot more rested. He only hoped that having a separate chat with the artistic director gave you a small break in his absence. Sparing a short glance at the flower and letter in your hand he tried his best to hide his smile. Instead he motioned to it as nonchalantly as he could, “Secret admirer?”

With the flower in your hand, forgotten at the sight of him, you quickly rushed to hide it behind your back. “Uhm, none of your business” your cheeks were dusted in pink, making him smile at you fully, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “You ready for today? We’re practicing the duet together”

“Ah, so you will be part of this one then?” You tried to make it seem like you didn’t care as to where he had disappeared in the last few days as you subtly prodded him for more information. Quickly catching onto your scheme, he smirked.

“Did you miss me?”

You scoffed, “Not by a long shot wonder boy. Let's go or we’ll be late, don’t know about you but I would like to warm up first” You turned around and started walking away from him, completely missing the lovestruck Jimin you left in your wake.

“Huh” he whispered to himself. You'd rendered him speechless once again.

Hours of practice later, everything went down better than the first time you’d worked together, as you had all the movements down to a ‘T’. Unfortunately, you were so focused on getting the technicalities right that you forgot about the freedom of the movement that went with the dance. You were stiff once again, and lacked the passion that the female lead should portray.

“No, no, no, Y/N. Once more from the top” the artistic director shooks their head in disapproval. You could feel frustration bubbling up threatening to spill in the form of tears once again. Before that could happen, Jimin instantly called for a small break, under the excuse that he needed to readjust his pointe shoes. He motioned for you to sit down next to him, and you shakily and reluctantly took a seat next to him on the floor. You couldn’t even look at him, let alone address him. Once again doubt started creeping in your thoughts.

“You need to relax more. Feel the steps, don’t think the steps” he whispered to you. Without giving you a chance to respond, he quickly got up and the artistic director immediately rushed to start the music again. You had no choice but to get into position, his words still swimming inside your mind. Feel the steps.

You tried, you swore you did. But somehow, it wasn’t working. By the time it got to the adagio, which was less slow and more of a petite allegro, with smaller and quicker movements, you were ready to give up. You felt as though you were made of wood. When it came to the partnered planche, all you did was stiffly raise your left leg to the back with your arms behind you, waiting for Jimin to grab them.

Improvising, he gripped you from the waist to support your planche, instead of grabbing just your hands from behind your back. He brought himself as close to you as he could, his warmth enveloping all of your senses. Luckily this planche was on flat— your foot planted firmly on the ground, rather than on pointe—otherwise you would’ve lost your footing and toppled over on the floor. He smelled good. Funnily enough, he smelled like gardenias in the warmth of the sun. For a second you couldn’t breathe, forgetting entirely where you were. All you could focus on was his gentle grip on your waist and his breath in your ear as he whispered, “focus on me”

As if he’d muttered a magic word, your guard fell down. All your insecurities melted away at his touch. Your brain was filled with the thought of him and as soon as you came down to pirouette in his arms, he was all you could see. Today he wasn’t wearing contacts, offering you an unobstructed view into his chocolate coloured eyes. His smile was soft and encouraging and his hands around you were strong and supportive. He was silently attempting to tell you that he had you, that you could trust him. There was something else hidden there deep in his eyes, however. As you stared at him for a second longer, trying to decipher what it was, something in you shifted. But the next move didn’t wait for either of you, so you quickly moved away from his arms and into the next position.

This time though, things were different. You feltl it in your movements. The uncertainty and stiffness was long gone. You both moved as one, even with your individual variations, you both came back together as if an unknown string was connecting the two of you.

As the end of the last note on the track rang out into the studio, so did the dream of two young lovers. Both you and Jimin finished returning to the first position in tandem, as if you were one. The two of you panted for different reasons. You, from the effort and the thrill of the closeness that you’ve both experienced. Him from performing without breathing, as his heart threatened to burst at having you so close to him. The performance gave him a snippet of what it would be like for him to be your real lover. And it was intoxicating.

The satisfied smile that the director gave you told you that you’d done it. You finally let go, and it was all thanks to Jimin. Excitedly, you turned your head to beam at him. The admiration in his eyes caused warmth to pool in your stomach. You finally saw the invisible string that tied you both together during the duet. It was affection.

Coda

A Coda is a classical ballet term that refers to the finale of a group of dancers and more often, the finale of a pas de deux.

No one spoke of what had transpired between you and Jimin that day. Completely ignoring your admittance, as well as his confession, you tried your best to act professionally. Practicing both together and apart made the days blend together. In that time you attempted to ignore the feelings that were threatening your performance (and your sanity). There was no time for any of that. You had a dream and this was your only chance to grasp it.

For weeks on end, all you did was practice, completely missing out on sleep and any social activities that your friends partook in. You avoided any social interaction that stepped over the small ‘Talk’ line. And you most definitely avoided your partner outside of your practice sessions. Whenever you would see him come from the opposite end of the corridor, you would quickly turn around and pretend you were looking for something in your gym bag. Sometimes, if you were lucky enough, you’d quickly veer to go towards the toilets. You made sure that there was no chance for the two of you to speak outside of the performance, afraid that you would blurt something out that you’d have rather kept to yourself.

The only interaction you had, if you could call it that, was with your secret admirer. And by interaction, you meant smiling at the flower he’d tape to your locker. Oddly though, for the past few weeks they would leave little notes taped next to the flower. From encouraging messages such as ‘You can do it’ to longer ones that spoke highly of your performances and your capability as a dancer. They were never consistent in length or content, but were always signed off the same way: ‘Forever yours, your secret admirer’

Weeks had passed, and with each day your confidence grew alongside your feelings for your partner. Even with little verbal interaction between the two of you, you were dancers. You did not need words to convey messages, and you certainly didn’t need words to convey feelings. Each time you would reach the finale of the dance you were breathless and dazed, craving for more.

More had to wait though. This was it, the first day of the show. You were nervous to say the least, but having worked so hard, day and night, and with the knowledge that no matter what Jimin was there to support you, you were as ready as you’d ever be.

Thinking about it, from someone you thought was a narcissist to someone you’d viewed as a rock, Jimin had managed to ground you and lift you up at the same time. You’d fallen so hard and fast for him, that you didn't even know what hit you. However, at the thought that there was still a secret admirer that had silently cheered you on, and the fact that Jimin was still a more professional dancer than you were, he probably made each one of his partners fall for him quickly. That was enough to dampen the fire in your heart. You would carry on with this performance and prove yourself to everyone. Prove that you deserved a spot on that stage as a main dancer. Show everyone that you deserved the spot standing next to Jimin, even if it was only as his dance partner.

“Hey, Y/N” your friends greeted as you were putting on the make up for the performance. “Are you nervous?” One of them asked as they all crowded around you.

Laughing, another one of your friends responded, “why would she? I bet she’s smug, now that she’s been favoured by the top star of our school. She clearly caught his eye from the beginning if she’s been personally requested by him” your friends' words left you confused, so you turned around to face them.

“What do you mean?”

They looked at each other warily. “You mean you haven’t heard?” They asked you and you shook your head, left even more confused. “The other day someone heard the artistic director discussing how they didn’t think that you’d pull through, but you did and that Jimin was correct in requesting you as his partner for the performance. Apparently…” they would have said more if not for the appearance of said man at your door. Quickly they wished you good luck and exited the room leaving the two of you alone. He looked dashing in his white shirt and tights. The shirt was made of a silky material to allow freedom of movement and the top buttons were undone, exposing his defined collarbones and the white of his skin. It was tantalizing enough to make you swallow thickly.

However, the words of your friends still buzzed in your head, and you didn’t have the time to ask him if it was true. You were both hurried by your ballet master towards the entrance to the stage. It was time.

In the last few minutes before you were supposed to exit and show the world what both of you had worked for, you expected to be nervous, yet you felt strangely calm. Taking advantage of the stillness around you, you stole a glance to your right. Jimin looked tense, more tense than you had seen him before, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of the performance or because he suspected what you were about to ask him.

“Is it true?” You whispered, not holding back. You needed one last piece of information before the puzzle was complete. And you wanted him to freely offer you that piece.

His jaw muscles twitched, and you could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. The silence between you two was even more deafening. It was as if the dancers that pitter-pattered around you, or the people chatting in the audience, did not reach the bubble around the two of you. The string that connected the two of you before, was shortening in length until there were mere inches between you two.

“You made it up to this stage on your own” He whispered, “There is nothing else bringing you up here but yourself. You may think I’m irritating, but in reality, you hate me.” He prevented you from responding by grabbing your hand. His hands were warm, while yours were clammy. “You can’t say hateful things about yourself and claim that you don’t hate me. If you hate yourself, you hate me. If you belittle yourself, you belittle me. So please don’t do that anymore. If you care even a little…” He didn’t continue, he couldn’t. He was on the verge of tears. You could hear it in his voice.

What he implied didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you were more than ready to surrender. But you needed one more thing. “And the flowers?”

Instead of offering you a straight up response he raises his right hand, the one that was hidden from you until now.

You let out a short breath. The puzzle was complete. In his hand stood a lone red gardenia. His secret love.

Well, not so secret anymore.

“Do you trust me?” He asked with a smile.

Smiling back at him with all the love you could muster, you intertwined your fingers together.

“Yes, yes I do.”

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mandowh0re · 4 years ago

Text

Remember Me

Chapter 2

Summary: While cleaning up the timelines that he broke, Loki meets and inevitably loses the one person that’s understood him in life. But he’s not losing you without a fight.

A/N: Another chapter within a week?? More likely than you think! Beta'd by the ever beautiful @edgyvege. Go show her some love!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2303

Happy Reading!

Loki’s lying in his bed, clutching the book you had loaned him close to his chest.

He finished the book the first night of having it, and he regrets not pacing himself because he still has six days before he can see you again and isn’t sure how to keep himself sane until then. He doesn’t have much to his name anymore, having missed eleven years of his life and his home having been destroyed. So it’s not like he can turn to his favorite books or activities.

The Avengers had reluctantly agreed, mostly out of guilt because of Thor’s previous loss, to let Loki stay in the compound under the condition that he did not leave, did not use his magic unsupervised, and did not cause chaos. It had been an incredibly difficult adjustment, especially on his part, but he was willing to do whatever it took to see you again. So he did not complain even once.

When Loki had returned from timeline 656, the timeline in which he first met you, he was broken but determined. He was on a mission and refused to get distracted until his job was done. He had to find you again. He didn’t know what he was going to do if he didn’t.

So when Mobius agreed to bring Loki to this point of the timeline, he had given Loki the information to be able to find you.

You were his insurance, a way to make sure Loki stayed in his place.

So after two weeks of near perfect behavior and constant sulking from the trickster, Steve and Tony agreed that Loki could leave the compound, though only under Thor’s supervision.

When he first saw you again in that tiny bookstore, he felt like he had been hit in the chest by Thor’s hammer. He thought he was prepared to see you again. Your bright eyes and soft lips were all he could think about the past several months. But apparently, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

But you being you, you gave him a sweet smile and kindly helped him find the book you had told him about when the two of you had first met back in timeline 656. Because no matter the timeline, you were always one to help others.

And then you did something he wasn’t expecting. The possibility wasn’t even on his radar. You gave him your own copy to read, telling him it was so he had to come back and see you. He felt his chest constrict in that moment, yet at the same time a spark of hope exploded inside of him. It was something that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Then when you asked him for his name, his heart broke again.

He had forgotten to even give you his name, because he had already known yours. Your name, your scent, your favorite laugh, your body.

He knew it all.

Yet you knew nothing about him. And after telling you his name, he was afraid you’d remember what he’d done to your city all those years ago. That you’d be afraid of him and reject him, just like most everyone else in his life. He wouldn’t blame you. He believed himself a monster, just like everyone else did.

But he kept himself from spiraling into his dark thoughts with the sole knowledge that the version of you in timeline 656 wasn’t scared of him. Not even before he explained to you what had really happened.

No, you had accepted him, helped him, and eventually loved him.

He could only hope that this version of you could do the same.

***

The day you met Loki, you were a bit shell shocked.

He left almost immediately after telling you his name, and you watched as he met up with a much larger blonde man before walking away. It took your brain one too many seconds to realize the blonde was Thor, making Loki the actual Loki. The Loki that reigned chaos and destruction to your beloved city all those years ago.

A few pieces of information struck you throughout the day, startling you each time:

Number one; you had actually hit on a literal god. The God of Mischief, no less.

Number two; he actually flirted back! What the fuck?

Number three; he never asked for your name.

And number four; you weren’t scared of him. More than that, you weren’t even angry with him.

You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why. Why he didn’t intimidate you. Why you felt as if you understood him. Or why you felt like you knew him, more intimately than just having heard of him. You had only spoken to the man once, for crying out loud.

The week passes by incredibly slowly, and every time you think about your interaction or of seeing Loki again, butterflies come to life in your belly and a smile slowly comes across your face.

But today is finally the day.

It’s a quarter past eleven when the door to the shop opens, the small wind chime signaling someone had entered. You look up from your current read and see Loki taking a few short steps to the counter. He’s dressed to the nines again, wearing a dark grey suit with minimal green accents.

He looks positively delicious, and you curse yourself for letting that thought slip. You slide your bookmark into your novel before setting it on a small shelf behind you.

“Hey! You came back!” You say, your voice a few pitches higher than usual. You really weren’t expecting him to actually return the book himself. In fact, you weren’t sure what you expected at all.

He nods, “Of course, darling. I wanted to see you again,” his voice is deep and his eyes are trained on yours, “And discuss the book, obviously,” He lifts the loved copy in his hand, held between his nimble fingers.

Warmth blooms in your chest and you smile shyly. Your eyes flicker to the window where you saw Thor waiting last week.

“Where’s your chaperone?”

Loki raises a brow, glancing to the window next to him.

“I saw Thor meet you when you left last week.”

Realization dawns on Loki’s face, “Ah, yes. I must be accompanied by my brother at all times outside of the Avengers Compound. It is a term of my arrangement.”

“Arrangement?” You ask, cocking your head slightly.

For a moment, Loki falters. He’s said too much, explaining his situation could cause more questions to arise, and he did not need that right now. Because how in the nine realms would he answer them?

So instead of answering, he sets the book on the counter in between the two of you and smiles, “Nothing for you to concern yourself, dear. I would much rather talk about the blatant misinformation contained in this book.”

His tone is light and playful, so you laugh and pull the book closer to you, “Misinformation? You mean to tell me that you didn’t give birth to a horse?”

Loki rolls his eyes, “Gods, no! I did no such thing. Nor am I the father of Fenrir, Jormungandr, or Hela.” He makes a disgusted face.

“That’s a shame,” You fake pout, “You just ruined my favorite book for me.”

He scoffs, “Darling, I am the living, breathing version of the character in your book. How could a novel be more interesting than the real deal?”

You look at him, a mischievous glint in your eye, and Loki feels his heart jump in his throat. He’s seen that look before. The way your nose crinkles just slightly, causing your eyebrows to scrunch, barely noticeable. There’s a sparkle in your eye, one that tells Loki every time that you’re up to no good.

It was one of the many reasons he fell so hard for you.

“You’re very handsome, I’ll give you that. But I just think Book Loki has more layers. Ya know?”

Normally, if you had made a comment like that, Loki would have pinned you against a wall and put you in your place.

But that was another time. One that Loki desperately hoped would come to him once more.

“Well, I think that if you come to know me better, you shall see I am much more… Complex than you humans have made me out to be.” His voice has lowered a few tones, sweet and smooth like honey.

He’s closer now, leaning over with his forearms on the counter, and you feel a warmth spread across your belly. You curse yourself and discreetly press your thighs together.

But unbeknownst to you, Loki knew every single one of your mannerisms, quirks, and habits. And by default, he saw the little movement you made, and had to use his glamour to hide the way his body reacted.

Conversation flowed from there, banter flying back and forth, your quick wit almost matching his.

It somehow felt normal to you. Comfortable. It was bizarre and pleasant at the same time.

But for Loki, it was just a painful reminder of what he lost so many months ago.

Before he knew it, there was a single knock against the front window, signaling that his time was up. The both of you glanced up to see Thor, dressed in jeans and a casual cotton jacket, peeking inside.

Loki sighs, “While I wish I could stay longer and chat, I fear I must take my leave.” He stands from the chair you had pulled up next to you and straightens his jacket.

Your heart drops slightly, not wanting him to leave, and you stand with him.

“Well, how about I give you another book to read?”

“I was already planning on coming back,” He smirks, tilting slightly downward, “But I shan’t turn down a chance to read a book.”

“Good, because I love this one too.” You tell him, grabbing the book from your stash. You rip a piece of receipt paper from the small printer and quickly scribble on it, then tuck it into the front cover.

“And my name is Y/N, by the way. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last week.”

Loki smiles and takes the book from you, walking towards the door.

“Well, Y/N, it has been a pleasure. I shall see you again next week.”

***

“Brother, I see you have another book.” Thor says as he moves to walk alongside Loki, who was already reading the book summary.

Loki only makes a hum of acknowledgment, but doesn’t say anything.

They walk in silence towards the secluded alley where Loki can transport them back to the compound without curious eyes.

The silence is comfortable, yet eerie. Thor is still recovering from the shock of having Loki back, though it wasn’t the same Loki he lost on that forsaken ship.

And Loki… He’s just trying to wrap his head around everything that has happened. Everything he missed because he jumped from 2012 to 2021. He didn’t get to say goodbye to Frigga. He didn’t get to have a last look at Asgard. And now the one woman Loki is sure he cannot live without, doesn’t remember him.

They get back to the compound without incident, and Loki heads back to his room like he always does, choosing to interact with the Avengers as little as possible, lest there be a fight.

He tilts his head up slightly, eyes screwed shut and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, “Friday, is it? Where is the spider child?”

“Peter is in the penthouse. Would you like me to relay a message to him?”

Loki bites his lip. Is he really going to do this?

Yes, he supposes he is.

“Can you ask him to come to my quarters?”

“Of course.”

Loki paces, waiting for Peter. After several minutes, there’s a tentative knock at the door.

“Come in.”

It opens slowly, revealing a confused Peter.

“Hey, Friday said you asked for me?”

“Yes.” Loki nods, then hands the boy a small piece of paper.

The same paper you put into the book earlier in the day.

Peter, now fully in the room, takes the paper and shoots a curious glance at Loki, before reading.

I don’t know if you have a cell phone, or even know what one is.

But if you do, feel free to text or call me :)

555-555-5555

-Y/N

“If you tell anyone about this, I shall have your head.” Loki hisses, but there’s no heat behind it. Peter is one of the few humans Loki cares about dearly. The little shit had somehow managed to weasel his way into Loki’s notoriously cold heart within the first week.

And Peter knew this.

“Yeah, yeah,” He smirks, “Why are you showing it to me in the first place?”

“While I know what a cell phone is, I am unsure about how to acquire one. That is where you come in.”

Peter’s eyes light up, “Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

Loki crosses his arms, fearing he may come to regret this.

***

“What do you want?”

“It’s been a while. Nice hearing your voice.”

“The feeling isn’t mutual.”

“Ouch.”

“Answer my question.”

“I want you to join us, of course. Thought that was clear by now.”

“Fuck off.”

“Well, figured I’d try... Anyways, I received word that Loki is back on Earth.”

“Not sure why you think I care, or how this concerns me.”

“I would like for you to bring him in.”

“I don’t work for you. Use your own goons.”

“He’s protected by Thor, and the Avengers by default. But you could easily-”

“Like I said. I don’t work for you. Why don’t you try intimidating one of your other experiments?”

“Star-”

“That’s not my name. Goodbye.”

***

Remember Me Taglist: @idunnomayn @savinasavers @stardust-walker @evelyn-4034 @dazedkrosupreme @sophlubbwriting

Permanent Taglist: @a-place-to-blog-marvel-stuff @yes-iamironman-blog @paradoxicalblueberry @the-regal-warrior @transparentparadiseglitterzombie @marvelgem @propertyofmarvel @avngrsinitiative @my-leg-is-not-a-chew-toy @lyricalstella-blog @just-the-daydreamer @hufflely-puffly

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rahleeyah · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! I want to tell you I am in awe of your writing. It’s powerful and moving and so true to characters. I’m always curious…what is your writing “process?” If you don’t mind me asking!

Oh this is a great question!!! We haven't had a writing question in a while.

My process is not something I usually think about; when I first saw this question I was about to say something like mostly what I do is I just sit very still and let the words come out. And that's true but not fair; that's only one piece of the puzzle.

The first piece is routine. I write at the same time every day. Weekdays it's first thing when I come home from work, weekends it's first thing when I wake up. Always the same time, always sitting in the same place - on my porch, away from distractions, with fresh air and a glass of water and some smokes. That last part is not recommended.

It is hard to write if I miss a few days. One day is fine, but if I go more than 2-3 (which I don't think I've done since Christmas) I'll be out of step and it'll take a while to get back in the groove. So that's the practical part, is I've got a time and space set aside to write and that makes it easier.

The next piece I guess is where the ideas come from. I rewatch a lot. I find watching helps me keep the character voices, but it also helps me make new connections or find new moments to explore. I'll post thoughts here or share them with friends and the back and forth helps flesh things a lot. Most of the time an idea for a story is like a lightning strike; it feels as if it's come out of nowhere. But it isn't completely organic; I spend a lot of time thinking about ideas. In the shower, in the car, before bed, in snippets on tumblr. You have to cultivate the idea generating part of your brain. Sometimes I'll play with a story in my head for weeks and it won't go anywhere; sometimes the whole thing just appears fully formed in my brain like Jesus air dropped it to me. But you gotta be open to the spirit before the spirit can move you, you know?

So we have a place to write and we have an idea, how do we make a story?

A story is like a road. It is going from point A to point B and we gotta lay the pavers to get there. A story like hov is easy; it's set in canon so there's episodes to draw from, and there's a clear linear progression from not pregnant to pregnant to baby. There's a time frame and there's built in milestones. Something like let's take long way down, madam Jean, for example, is gonna be totally different, bc it isn't set in canon and there is no roadmap to get from strangers to happily ever after.

A lot of the time I don't look at the big picture bc it's overwhelming. It feels insurmountable, if I think about how many chapters it'll take and how much time it'll take. I'm eating this elephant one bite at a time, just like my mama said. So we write the first scene. The first paver that goes down is the Problem.

Not to be all freshman English class but every story is centered on conflict. Those conflicts can be anything; it doesn't have to be a "fight", an actual literally good guy vs bad guy. It just has to be an issue. Liv is pregnant but Elliot is her partner and they're not supposed to sleep together. Lucien works for the police but he's intrigued by the local madam. Eli doesn't know who Liv is and he's worried about his dad. Bernie Stabler shows up unannounced. All of these are Problems.

Once we have a Problem, we can start working on the Solution. We do this one step at a time. We do not rush.

So every day, I read over the last chapter I wrote. Where are we, what's happened, what are the Conflicts, what is the next logical step? How do we address it in one scene?

Lucien saw the madam, and she asked him to look after a pregnant girl. Ok now he has to go back to the brothel in the next chapter. That moves the timeline forward and moves us closer to the end goal, bc while Lucien is looking after the girl he talks to Jean, and we plant the seeds of them falling in love. It also gives us one piece of action to work on, one moment in time to write. I sit down, I write Lucien going to the brothel, I write him examining the girl and talking to Jean, boom there's one scene we're done. We tie those two things together; logical progression of Plot events, and the emotional undercurrent. I like it best when a chapter has both.

Themes come out naturally most of the time. Matrilineal, for example, was just me sitting down to write about Bernie and I used Amanda bc I love an outside pov. But as I was writing I'm thinking you know, Amanda has a complicated relationship with her mom. Shit, so does Liv. And they're both mothers now. And so is Bernie. And the emotional threads come out naturally as a result of who these people are. The piece wasn't gonna be about mothers but then it became obvious that it had to be.

Motifs appear the same way. The first chapter of bury my heart, I used this is love. That wasn't originally intentional, but when I did it the second time I thought there it is, and kept using it, and that's where the gut punch of the final line comes from; the meaning has changed from joy to sorrow and it is only impactful bc of the repetition and our previous connection to it.

I use a lot of imagery, and a lot of it tends to be religious - Jean is very Catholic, and so is Elliot, so for both Blake and svu there's room to play with it there. I like similes, I like metaphors, I like synecdoche - there's a fun one. I like to play with putting words together in different ways but that stuff doesn't happen in the car, or the shower, or on my lunch break; that usually only happens when I'm writing. I have to sit down and be still and let my brain go.

Conflict, themes, motifs, images, characters, these are the ingredients that make a story. And the more you work with them the easier they come. It just takes practice. But one of the best ways to improve is to read. See what's possible. See how other people have put words together. Someone commented once about how sometimes I say a lot with very few words; that is something I picked up from two very different places. Stephen King is great about short, simple, powerful sentences that knock your socks off. And there's a recurring line in my favorite series, the Belgariad, where when things are bad the man character goes to his aunt, who has raised him since he was a baby and is essentially his mother, and she holds him, and everything was all right again. It is a simple, repeated phrase about love, and comfort, and how no matter how terrifying the world can be, love brings healing and hope. There are quotes scattered throughout my work. Olivia quotes Heraclitus to herself in bury my heart; yes I am a classics major but my connection to that quote comes from the film the emperor's club. Inspiration is everywhere; draw on all of it.

This is. Probably more information than you were looking for but once I got started I couldn't stop.

#anonymous

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jangosweat · 4 years ago

Text

Surprise (Part One)

Pairing: younger Boba Fett x female reader Summary: Boba is on a mission, you happen to have more than just some information for him. Length: don't @ me ok this got away from me pretty quickly, the gc chose violence the other day and my brain ran the fuck away with it so... LONG. Warnings: NSFW, Boba smokes in this ok (smoking is bad ofc), strong language, explicit content, alcohol consumption, virgin!Boba, eventual p in v Tagging these bucket fuckers: @batfamily14 @kavecika @aurea-corde @beskarprincessjenny @ahoeformando @onabouteverything @rosethornsxx @latenightsthoughtsnstuff @deewithani @hobbitlover23 @thisgirl-knm @adonishxney @vegethiagoddess @the-siren-writes-it @tibbietibbs @meabravo @kenob1 @theifofstars @metchachotto @blissful--moon @mysticalgalaxysalad

ENJOY!!!

It was a shame really, having flown out all this way with a strong signal until the night Boba Fett had landed his ship down on this bustling planet, after a month of hunting and beating the information out of humans and a few droids he needed for his latest quarry he had come up short.

He hated being let down, he was on a roll with capturing quarry after quarry, bringing them to their knees with a swift prowess only he seemed to encapsulate. His father's genes he would think thoughtfully as he laid in bed. The cuts and bruises would soon fade, adding to his track record as being one of the up and coming best bounty hunter in the parsec. He was making a name for himself, preening when he'd enter some dive bar or cantina, all eyes on him and rumor had it that if you saw his painted beskar, someone was in big kriffing trouble.

A pompous man only known to the hunter by the name of Tarrik was all he knew and that the client he was hired by wanted his payment. Now.

Boba tapped on his holopad, filling in his planner of sorts, archiving his triumphs as he sat wide legged at the edge of his bed aboard Slave I. He bit his lip, opening a new tab on the blueish screen, setting his sights on a map of the city. He used his fingers to expand the map, reaching absently at the table next to him to retrieve a lit cigarette of sorts. The shredded tobacco type substance was sweet and fragrant, coils of smoking spiraled around his fingers before he took a drag and kept on with his search.

He was on the right planet, nearby to where this theif was either hiding deftly among the people and aliens just outside from the landing areas restricted section or he was one step ahead of Fett and that thought alone made his eyebrows crease together. That was his job, to be on the Frontline, to outsmart his naïve prey. He sighed and kept the map page open, looking from a top view of what looked to be a little shopping center, a jewelry store with the name Tarrik's Trinkets lit up neon on the screen.

....

"Did you take inventory yet?"

"I'm on it right now!" You called back to one of your coworkers, she was on her way out to lunch, leaving you in charge of the jewelry store for the next hour. Your boss Tarrik had left a rather cryptic note of explanation that he had a family emergency and you and Juni were to be in charge of keeping to store up and running for the next few days.

She shrugged on a jacket, careful not to snag the flow of her long head-tails before leaving, telling you she'd bring you back something sweet.

The low chime of the store from the door opened and closed as you grabbed the holopad and set to work.

Only a few moments passed when you heard the chimes again, crouched underneath a display case you sing songed out. "Back so soon?"

You were met with silence.

That's odd you thought, you know you heard the door open...

"Juni?"

More silence.

When you finally stood to your full height you didn't see a soul in the store, you set the holopad down on the glass counter and rounded about the side. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon."

You jumped at the voice that answered you, that was definitely not Juni. You turned around to find a tall man, covered literally head to toe in some sort of hard armor and gloves, not a lick of his skin was presented to you, a T visor looked down at you.

Stealthy son of a bitch you thought as you relaxed a little.

"Oh! Good afternoon sir." You smoothed your hands at your sides, curious as to who he might be. You've seen and met quite a few strangers, of all sorts but none as mysterious as the man before you. He tilted his helmet in acknowledgement and rested his gloved hands at his waist, fingers displaying on a utility belt.

"Nice place you've got here." His voice was covered with a thick modulator, you could hear the nice smooth tone of it even through the slight crackles.

"Thank you, we pride ourselves on serving the best and making the best. Even the gentry have been known to visit from time time, by their aides and associates of course. Is there something in particular you're looking for sir?" You asked.

The helmeted man looked around the empty store then back to you after a moment. "Is the owner perhaps around?"

"Not today. But I can be of any assistance you might need."

The man hummed and tapped his belt, strong and quiet as he peered around again as if casing the joint and that set you on edge, tiny hairs on the back of your neck prickled and you moved back behind the display case you were just working on.

"Do you do customized pieces?" The man asked, turning on his heel to see where you had scurried off to.

"Of course we do! Do you have something in mind?"

The man pondered and leaned against the top of the case, a sweet smell wafted into your nose as he looked down at some of the pieces laid out on a fine Vermillion felt. "What might you suggest?"

"Is it for you or a someone special? A partner perhaps? A special occasion maybe..."

"I'm not a married man if that's what you're asking. Jewelry doesn't fit in with my armor. Someone special I suppose."

"Alrighty, how special are we talking?" You asked using one of your hands to showcase what you had at this case. "We have earrings, these are a popular buy or if want something more flashy we have bracelets and necklaces over there."

"A necklace will do I think."

"Excellent! Why don't you follow me over here then," you waved him over and he followed slowly after you, stopping to look at how nicely you had placed the varying lengths and sizes of adornments. "What kind would you like? Have you seen them in something familiar in style or coloring? A gemstone or two maybe..."

"What would you like?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. What would you like to receive as a gift?"

Oh.

No one had ever asked you for your personal opinion on the matter, not in that way at least. You had modeled a few items for your customers, if you were a similar size neck or wrist for the client but never had someone asked what you would prefer to wear.

No one had bought you jewelry before so the question had you stunned for a moment to think.

"Well... I don't like gaudy items, I'm more of a dainty subtle kinda' girl. If it were me, I'd go with a lariat style. It's just enough to catch someone's eye and when the sun hits it just it right, you know it's something special."

"Hmm can you show me? Might be interested in something like that." The man was sold you could tell, you were top in sales last month after all.

You smiled and bent down and brought out the style you were talking about, proudly showing off the necklace. "What do you think?"

The man hummed and touched the slinky necklace, as if he could feel the smoothness through those thick gloves. "Classy. You said I could add an gemstone no?"

"Absolutely sir, whatever modification you'd like we can do. It will cost extra of course." You explained and the man chuckled through his modulator.

"Of course. Money is of no expense to me smart girl. Three emeralds will do I think."

Emeralds? Three emeralds no less! This man had expensive taste and could afford it.

"Placement? They would like very royal spaced out like this," the man nodded once in agreement once you showed him your idea. "How about length?"

His T visor rose slowly from the necklace, taking his time to look at you as if you could see his face underneath. "Their about your size I suppose."

"For my neck I'd prefer a sixteen inch in length."

"Let's do it then."

That was easy, you smiled and made a quick sketch on a spare holopad nearby, a glimpse of what his custom piece would look like and cost. He agreed to the amount and gave his signature on the pad.

All it said was Mando when you took it back.

"As I'm sure you're aware sir, Emeralds can take some time to set, about a week or so, is that ok?"

"Absolutely." The man breathed and took out a strange looking square of steel, placing it in your hand before he took a step back and took his leave.

The chimes of the door sang again as he left, leaving you with his personal comm link number on the back of what looked like an imperial credit business card. But no name was present.

....

Boba thought of you while he took off his armor for the night, snagging a few bags of food from a very skittish man and woman at a food stall on his way back from the shopping market.

You had called him Sir, either out of sheer politeness or intimidation. Not that he was taught to call attention to himself or his armor or profession, like his father had instilled in him as a boy, but it alarmed him. Took him down a notch. He was just a man to you, clad in his father's beskar. He wasn't scary to you and that humbled him, where his name proceeded him nowadays, being unrecognizable was in a way a touch of honey to the battered man.

You didn't know his name like so many others had. Didn't cower in fear that he was possibly after you. No, he was after your boss. He didn't want to scare you, he was after one man not an army and certainly not a shopkeeper like yourself.

He had hoped you would call him the next day, give him details about the necklace that he bought on a whim with no real flesh and blood person to give it to. It was a means to an end, get in good with you, nonchalant and easy in order to find out the whereabouts of Tarrik.

It was only one meeting with you but as he sat in just his underclothes, untying the bag of steaming food, he couldn't help but feel a little off about using you. Strange as that may seem.

You didn't call the next day or the next after that, four days later he wondered if he should stop by the shop again just to see. Scope it out even though the puck he toyed with wasn't blinking.

He lit one of his cigarettes while he cleaned his armor, leaning his hip against one his many weaponry crates that made their home in the hull of his ship. He let it dangle from his lip before maneuvering it between his front teeth as he cleaned his helmet. The unsuspecting call from his comm link took him out of his routine, he popped the piece next to his chest plate into his ear.

"Hello?"

"Mando?" You sounded unsure of yourself, Boba narrowed his eyebrows as to why until he realized his helmet was in his hands, not placed on his head.

"Speaking. Everything going alright?" It never occurred to him that he had given you a name to call him but he didn't catch yours, too preoccupied with his song and dance of trying to sus out information and how you smiled at him. Not knowing the predator he truly was.

"Yeah yeah everything is fine with your piece it's just you forgot to put in your credit information. I was looking it over and-"

"When should I come in?" Boba stabbed out his cigarette.

"Oh uh whenever you're free would be great, were open until nine tonight if that works out for you?" You sounded excited and nervous which made him feel the same.

"I'll see you soon then."

You fumbled through some goodbye by the sound of it, Boba smiled and got dressed.

....

Tarrik's Trinkets seemed to be in a rush, there were people picking up some of their cleaned items and some were being helped, you were behind the register handing off a bag to a very excited young Twi’lek couple, they even kissed in front of everyone. An engagement Boba thought to himself, smiling under his helmet. As he made his way through the busy little store the engaged couple made eyes with him, wide ones as they hurried past, even as he had gave them a pleasant nod of his helm.

The people outside in the shopping center had done the same when they had seen him strolling through the street.

None the wiser were you to his presence, another girl was asking you a question before returning to her own set of waiting customers.

He didn't know why all of a sudden a strange pang in his gut hit him then, she was close to you, her face next to your ear her hand on your elbow as you turned and answered her.

Boba Fett waited for the crowd to die down, patiently waiting towards the back wall full of portraits of clients showing off the jewelry that was made here.

But once the rush was over he watched you close up the drawer and hang your head with a bit of exhaustion, your hands on the tabletop before he took his turn and made his way over to you.

"Busy night huh?"

You sprang up at the distinct tone of his modulated tone, eyes wide with Sprite but with a smile. "Mando! You’ve gotta’ stop sneaking up on me."

"I told you I was coming."

"Yeah but I didn't think so soon!" Your smile made him smile, you took out a holopad from underneath the glass, scrolling through until you found his name and lack of information. You handed it over to him.

"You said you closed at nine, wanted to get here before you closed." Boba answered while tapping in his numbers.

"Were still open for another hour, Mando." You countered, a flirty smile on your face as he handed the pad back to you.

"Had to be sure you didn't forget about me."

"How could I forget?"

So this was happening.

Usually when Boba flirted it was for information, nothing more than that and in a way it was exactly that but something more, some lingering feeling that felt natural when he spoke to you.

The women he did flirt with always wanted something from, dank farrik everyone wanted something from him. To hire him to use him to dispose of him when they were through, he didn't let it bother him too much to waste sleepless nights on it but sometimes it hurt. Just a little bit.

You were genuine about it though as he studied your face.

"So what is there to do around here? I haven't been on this side of the planet in a long time." He wanted to keep you talking, to hear your voice.

"Well that depends, what do you like to do? I doubt hiking with all that armor on." You pointed.

Boba chuckled, smiling at the fact he'd just left the dessert before landing here a few days ago. "Not exactly. What do you like to do?"

"Well I like art so I go to the museums a lot. There's quite a few bars and cantinas around too. A bunch of stuff really." You shrugged.

Boba hummed along and took a chance. "Do you go out for drinks a lot?"

"Sometimes I'll go out with Juni after work."

"Juni?"

"Oh! My coworker, she's around here somewhere." You looked around the store but didn't see her, neither did Boba and he was grateful for the one on one conversation.

"Ah ha. You know you never did tell me your name the other day."

You're face had look of shock when you looked up at him then. "I didn't?! That wasn't very professional of me, was it?”

"I won't tell on you."

You bit your bottom lip before apologizing, adding your name at the end with your hand out for him to take. It was dwarfed by the size of his hand and glove.

He cemented it to his brain, rolling it over and mouthing it behind the beskar of his helmet. "Mesh'la."

"Excuse me?"

"Mesh'la. It means beautiful in my native language."

"Oh! I like that."

Boba suddenly realized he was still holding your hand before he took it back gently. "Are you going out tonight?"

"Not that I'm aware of, why?" You cocked your head. "You wanna ask me out?"

Very bold little one.

"Maybe. Would you go out with me? Just for a drink, you can tell me about all the other places I should visit while I'm waiting."

"Sure. Why not?"

Boba's stomach twisted at your coy smile. "It's a date. I'll be waiting outside."

"Outside? Mando I still have an hour to work!" You protested.

He tapped the side of his helmet and the clock counter showed him the time. "Forty-five minutes. I can be patient." Boba then patted the glass counter, noticing the way you twisted in place as if bashfulness had grabbed you by the throat and strutted towards the door, looking over his shoulder at you still watching him as he chimed through the door.

He had done his job and damn well if he was being truthful to himself. He was proud and took up post just to the side of the store front, noticing how others jogged across the street from him while a few reckless others strolled by giving him a side eye.

They're lucky I'm not after them he thought as he checked the time again, only three minutes have passed and for some unexplained reason all he could do was picture your face and repeat your name over until it sounded faintly like an ancient prayer.

#part one is done bitches #this has been haunting all week from the gc and here it is #so far i mean #we're getting there trust me #boba fett x you #boba fett x female reader #younger boba is a tough guy #ENJOY!!!

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sofwrites · 3 years ago

Note

for the prompt thing; polin + 41

41: sitting close and knees touching | Also my entry for Polin Week Day 3: Modern AU

A modern twist on Penelope finding out about Colin's journals

Themes: angst, yearning, teasing | Length: 2.3k

Read on ao3 or under the cut | masterlist

Thank you for requesting! xx

He hadn’t planned on telling anyone. He really hadn’t planned on anyone seeing them. And he really really hadn’t planned on anyone ever reading them.

The only reason Colin had even started keeping a journal was to remind himself that he was a real person on his travels- that he had the power to leave something permanent on earth. That he wasn’t completely wasting his time flitting from country to country- desperately trying to find some sort of purpose in his life.

Again, he hadn’t planned on anyone seeing them.

But one day he was painstakingly hiding his journals in a deep, hidden corner of his laptop, and the next, Penelope Featherington had found one. She’d found one then read. And somehow, she thought they were good. Actually good. Not I’m-only-saying-this-to-be-nice good.

And, sure, it had all happened by accident, but after some time, Colin was so incredibly thankful that it did.

He’d been hiding out in Eloise’s flat (Anthony had texted about wanting to meet that afternoon because- well, it didn’t matter really. The fact of the matter was that Colin had no desire to do so) when the buzzer rang.

He ignored it and continued to flip through the book in his hand.

But then it rang again. And again.

And on the fourth ring, Colin finally groaned and forced himself off of the sofa.

It was barely a second after his finger had reached the speaker that a loud, rather familiar-sounding shriek rang out. “Eloise!! Eloise! Please tell me you’re there!”

With a snort, Colin cut the voice off and buzzed them in. And in roughly a minute (an impressive feat considering that Eloise lived on the fifth floor), he saw a bouncing bit of red hair through the peephole and opened the door.

“Thank God, I really need-” Penelope froze mid-step in the frame as her eyes traveled up to reach Colin’s face. For a moment, she just stared, her mouth parted open. And then she swallowed and gave a quick shake of the head.

With a slightly forced smile, she nodded and swept past him, looking around as she went towards the sitting room. “Is Eloise in?”

“She’s not,” Colin answered flatly as he casually leaned against the closed door. He kept an impressively blank expression as Penelope haphazardly rifled through Eloise’s desk, roughly blowing a few loose curls out of her face. “Looking for something?”

Penelope either missed or simply ignored the teasing tone as she frantically moved her search to the sofa cushions. “Did she leave her laptop here?”

“Don’t think so. Though I’m not entirely sure- all she told me was to try not to empty her entire fridge.”

Normally, that would have elicited Colin a laugh or an amused smile, but all Penelope did was let out a groan. A groan that bizarrely caused his stomach to flip. He glanced away from her, clearing his throat. ”Erm- but if you need a laptop, I do have mine.”

Penelope looked up at him with such sharpness that it caught him a bit off guard. “You do? Can I borrow it?”

He blinked at her for a moment, but quickly nodded and motioned to his bag near her feet. He’d barely muttered a “Course” before she’d already retrieved and set it on the table.

“Oh, password’s-” Colin balked for a second, his mouth still open. He’d never told anyone his password before, and it felt… Odd. Unnerving to give away such a private piece of information. But Penelope was looking up at him again, eyes huge and slightly feral, antsy fingers hovering over the keys. He rubbed the back of his neck before mumbling, “GregorySux. With an x.”

The tips of Penelope’s fingers froze as the corner of her mouth twitched, but she bit her lip as she looked down to type.

“He kept hacking into it,” Colin said in an attempt to justify himself.

She seemed so focused on the screen that he thought she hadn’t heard him, but, almost absentmindedly, Penelope said, “Don’t think it’s hacking if your password is literally Password.”

He gaped at her. “I can’t believe Eloise told you!”

This time, Penelope just shrugged in response, her attention completely taken away. The only sounds that filled the room were those of her lightning-quick typing.

He stood there for a moment, feeling uncharacteristically awkward as he watched her fingers work. And then he cracked his neck before nodding. “Right, I’ll give you a minute…”

And as he reached Eloise’s toilet, it occurred to Colin he’d never before been alone with Penelope- not really. He’d known the girl for over a decade, but they’d never really been friends. They were friendly and had spent a decent amount of time together, but there’d never been a real closeness, definitely not one where they could spend a casual afternoon hanging out.

But Colin had never had trouble with finding the right words to say, so it shouldn’t be different with Penelope, right?

He’d asked her about work- that was safe. And maybe how her recent trip with Eloise and Frannie had been- also another safe topic. After that, it’d be no trouble.

But when he reentered the hallway, Colin immediately noticed how quiet it had suddenly gotten- the air completely absent of any hasty typing. Silently, he peered inside the sitting room.

Penelope was still hunched over his laptop, her mouth parted slightly as she stared at the screen. The only movement of her hands was to scroll, but her eyes were running across the screen at an inhuman speed. He watched her for a moment, the corner of his mouth rising unconsciously as her lips mouthed a few words.

He felt intrigued.

Not intrigued by her- of course. But rather intrigued by what had entranced her so much that she couldn’t dare peel her eyes from the computer.

She didn’t react as he crept behind her, looking over her shoulder to see the screen. The brightness was a bit lowered, but he could see a Word document. He leaned a bit closer, eyes squinting as he read a random line.

Imagine you’re at a party, feeling weightless and invincible-

Wait- he recognized those words.

Colin’s eyes flew to the title of the page, which very clearly read, Italy, 09/03/19.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Penelope yelped at the sudden noise, turning her head so quickly that her forehead made contact with Colin’s nose.

“OW!”

And that was how it had all started. A frantic Penelope, a trip to the toilet, an accidentally minimized Word document, and a (luckily) not broken nose.

He’d been angry at first… Well, really, he’d been fairly livid about the entire thing. Not because he was necessarily mad at Penelope, who had accidentally opened the tab initially, but rather because he felt… Embarrassed. It was embarrassing having one’s little sister’s best friend accidentally come across their greatest secret.

But even though he wanted to forget and pretend it all had never happened, Penelope had been unrelenting. After an assurance that what she read had been good, she’d practically demanded that he let her read through the rest of his work.

And now, weeks later, here they were sitting next to each other at his kitchen table, two cups of tea and a printed-out version of his journal laid out in front of them.

“What was it you were trying to say here?” Penelope asked, her eyes rolling over a highlighted section of an Australia entry.

He looked down at the page, following where her finger rested. Instantly, he felt himself flush a bit. She was pointing out a particularly convoluted metaphor he’d written, one likening the magnificent sunset to the familiarity of reading one’s favorite childhood book for the first time as an adult.

“Erm…” He cringed, unable to say anything else.

It was still so odd- the not knowing what to say. Colin Bridgerton wasn’t someone who ever had trouble figuring out his words, and yet… And yet having Penelope had that effect on him. Or, more likely, having Penelope inspect his work, dissecting every word that had ever come out of his brain, make him feel insecure in a way he never was.

It wasn’t so much that it was Penelope, of course. She was his sister’s best friend, a woman he’d known since they were barely grown. It would have been like that if anyone else had seen his work, he was sure of it.

But even still- he found himself staring at a rogue curl on her cheek, his hand twitching to reach up and tuck it away.

“Colin?” Penelope interrupted his roaming thoughts, abruptly looking up at him. Her lips pinched together once she saw his expression, pulling themselves down into a small frown. “Colin,” she repeated in a softer voice. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were a fantastic writer. It’s just that everyone needs a little editing- even the best of us.”

His head tilted slightly as he looked at her, suddenly caught on her use of the word, us. “Do you write a lot then?”

Penelope’s lips slowly formed a smile as she looked at him, a hint of hesitation on her face. She sighed, taking a moment. “Well, actually-” But then she cut herself off, suddenly resembling the same shy Penelope he hadn’t seen in years.

Colin found himself leaning in, putting both arms on the table in front of them, desperate to hear the end of whatever she’d wanted to say. He could feel his knee bumping into hers, but neither of them moved. “What?” he prompted, surprised to hear how faint his voice was. There was something about the moment that was making it rather difficult to breathe.

Penelope was looking back at him with an intensity, mouth slightly parted as she licked her lips reflexively. There was nothing inherently seductive about the movement, but- But something about the way her tongue flicked out made Colin’s stomach clench uncomfortably.

“Uhm,” she whispered, only hearing the loud beating of her heart. No one knew about her secret, other than her editor. And it would surely be a disaster if anyone ever found out …

But she had found out about Colin’s secret, albeit by accident. It felt only right that he should know hers as well…

But if she were being truly honest, she didn’t care very much about her secret at that present moment. Not when the two green eyes she had spent her entire adolescence (and much of her early adulthood) pining over were staring directly at her, looking as though they could see through her entire soul.

Every breath was an effort, every movement was the most difficult task in history. The spot where their knees were still gently pressed against each other felt like it was on fire, spreading itself across her body. She’d been in so much shock when the contact had happened that she hadn’t moved away. And then she’d been astonished when he hadn’t either.

Penelope couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about, and it almost appeared that Colin… That Colin shared the same sentiment.

It felt like she was dreaming. Somehow, he was staring at her with just as much intensity as she was to him. She wasn’t sure if anyone had… She was quite certain that no one had ever looked at her like that.

Colin swallowed as he stared at her, taking in every freckle spread across her nose and every loose curl surrounding her face. He could see her eyes clearly for perhaps the first time in his life- a beautiful shade of warm brown with golden flecks throughout the iris. And then his eyes unwillingly moved, flickering to her lips as she licked them again, causing his gut to wrench painfully.

And then he realized that his hands on the table were so close to her own, the one still resting on his forgotten journal excerpt.

Almost without meaning to, his pinky twitched, moving just enough to meet hers. His breath hitched as he looked back up to meet her gaze.

Neither of them moved, as if moving would break something fragile. As if moving would forcibly tear them from the moment they were.

But then- he wasn’t sure how long- Penelope’s soft eyes left his, darting down to rest on their touching fingers. And then her eyes widened, and her entire body jerked backward, and suddenly Colin’s knee was incredibly cold.

Her chair made a loud scraping noise against the floor as she jumped up, startling him out of the hold he’d been under. “Pen-?”

“It’s getting a bit late,” Penelope muttered through a quick breath, quickly stashing away her belongings. “I’ll finish this at home, and we can meet another time to discuss it. Maybe coffee- next week.”

Colin frowned, getting out of his seat, and taking a few steps towards her. Quietly, he said, “Or you could stay here?”

Penelope froze for a moment before slowly retrieving her keys, gaze firmly locked onto the ground. All he could see were her eyelashes as she blinked.

He bent down slightly and reached out to lift her chin. “Or you could stay here,” he repeated with a bit more reverence in his voice. “We could get some dinner and- talk.”

Penelope swallowed as her eyes rested on his face for a fraction of a moment, but soon enough, she pulled away again. Her fingers trembled as she draped the bag over her shoulder, shaking her head as she looked towards the door. “Erm, no, sorry. I really- really need to go, Colin.”

And then she all but sprinted from the flat, leaving a speechless Colin Bridgerton behind.

#polinweek #polinweek2021 #polin #bridgerton fic #my fic #this is my first posted modern polin #I have another one coming at the end of this crazy week #hope you like this though!#also I'm sorry this took weeks I hope that's okay #polinanon #ugh can you tell polin week is killing me #because it is

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