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frombeyondtheblackhole · 3 years

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Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 8

X helped Grian sit back down and handed Grian a clean rag from his inventory. Grian pressed it against his nose to curb the bleeding as X checked his eyes. X asked Grian several basic questions before asking him to count backwards from 100 by sevens and listened as his friend struggled.

“100… 97 no 93… 87... um... um, ow-” He faltered, staring into space for a long moment.

“You’ve got a concussion.” X shook his head.

“Can’t I just take a health pot and get back to work?” Grian asked.

X folded his arms and shook his head “Health pot’s don’t work like that. You know how when you take a health pot the cuts all seal up just leaving some bruising. A concussion is just a bruise on your brain so it would be kind of useless. Regen might help a little because it boosts your body's natural healing process but it has the same problem as health in that it won't target bruising. I would avoid coffee for now and anything else with speed pots in it for that matter,” X added, noticing Grian reaching for his unfinished coffee mug.

Grian pouted “What can I do?”

“You can go home and rest... though you probably shouldn’t be flying for a while. I’ll walk back with you.”

Grian sighed and let X help him to his feet. To be honest he was starting to like the idea of resting, his head was spinning and he was having trouble focusing. “Alright, you win. Just be sure to let me know if you figure anything out about the whole server problem will you.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know,”

---

The day before, Scar and Grian had given Skeppy and George a tour of Boatem. Scar had offered to let the two of them stay in his landboat (As it had more space than Grian’s house) till they could make their own starter bases.

Skeppy had been startled when, as soon as it started to get dark, the sun blipped in the sky and it was on the other horizon. George explained to him that the night was skipped here, something to do with a Time King named B-dubs. He apparently could cause night to skip for everyone if he slept. George wished he could do cool things like that when he slept, as it was, all he did was talk to demons or gods or whatever XD was. Skeppy insisted that was way cooler than time powers. George didn’t believe him.

Grian had left to work with X on the server problem and Scar was off gathering some stuff to help get them settled in. This left Skeppy and George alone to snoop around Boatem town on their own. They explored Scar’s base but soon became tired of that and went outside.

They were nosing around Grian’s base and the nether portal when Skeppy noticed something odd. There were a lot of things here he had never seen before but this felt different somehow. It was about a foot in diameter, dark and smooth and round, shining with a deep purple iridescence, and it seemed to call to Skeppy, like the egg, like the blood vines. It called to him, not quite with words but more with instinct, urging him to touch it. Skeppy reached out-

“What’s that you found?” George called snapping Skeppy out of his trance.

“I have no clue,” Skeppy shrugged.

George came closer and squinted behind his glasses, bringing his face close to the things surface. The air around it tingled like static. “I never saw one myself but I think it might be a Dragon egg,” George said, reaching his hand out to touch it.

Skeppy shoved George out of the way and grabbed for the egg. He was going to be the first one to touch it. The Dragon Egg. His fingers brushed against the smooth surface then fell through to air. He stumbled and caught himself on the now empty quartz pedestal.

“What the hell, Skeppy?” George protested. Then his eyes fell on the egg sitting on the grass not far from him.

They’d both seen it. Skeppy caught his eyes. They held each other's gaze, silently urging the other to stay put. They both lunged for it.

Skeppy collided with George practically landing on top of him but it was too late George's hand knocked into the egg and it disappeared.

Both of them scrambled to their feet looking for where it went. Skeppy found it over the hill but hesitated before reaching for it this time.

“No you don’t” George cried coming up behind him. Skeppy jumped at the sound seconds before George tackled him directly into the egg and it was gone again.

“Ow ow- hold on, get off,” Skeppy protested, pushing his palm against George’s face trying to shove George off himself, “This isn’t working. It’s being all teleporty and shit.”

George backed off, and huffed to himself, as he brushed himself off.

“What are you two doing?” Scar said as he came over. “Oh look,” He stopped as he noticed the dragon egg at his feet. He placed down a piston next to it and a button and *boop* the egg was pushed right into his arms. He picked up the egg and looked back at the two who were still sitting on the ground, grass stains on their clothes and hair disheveled from their fight. “Looks like you two touched the egg. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Grian,” He said with a wink placing it back on the pedestal.

Skeppy and George just stared at him. “Wait, how did you do that!” Skeppy shrieked pointing.

Scar laughed, “The egg can be tricky, it doesn't like being touched but you can trick it into thinking it isn’t being held by using a piston. You can also break the block underneath it and catch it as it falls, just make sure to place a torch first... something about the heat is important.”

“I’m holding it!” Skeppy announced scrambling to his feet and moving towards the egg.

“Who says you get the egg, I saw it too,” George argued.

“We’ll I saw it first,” Skeppy retorted, sticking his tongue out, summoning his shovel from his inventory.

George scowled “You didn’t even know what it was till I told you.” He summoned his netherite axe from his inventory, the one XD had given him.

“Well you didn’t even know that it teleported so-” Skeppy started digging down next to the pedestal.

“Woh woh woh, you both can hold it if you want,” Scar said trying to break up the tension “You can’t keep it though, it’s Grian’s,” He added.

Skeppy and George both turned and glared at him. There was a calculating pause then George’s posture changed, he seemed to relax. “Heh- sorry about that,” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “It’s just neither of us have ever seen a dragon egg, guess we got a bit carried away,” He shrugged.

George wanted that Dragon egg more than anything. Skeppy probably did too. That was the rarest thing on the server and if someone could get it and bring it back to the Dream SMP then they would be the most powerful person on the server. But there were a lot of hermits. Way more than the two of them. It was probably best that they not make them mad. He could find a way to get the egg without them noticing another time.

Skeppy looked surprised and a little too satisfied with himself as he continued to dig out under the pedestal. He placed the torch and mined away the pedestal catching the egg as it fell. It was surprisingly warm, he felt it vibrating with power as he held it against his chest, his arms wrapped around it, nestled in the folds of his bright blue hoodie. He grinned, he felt like a proud father, why did he feel like a proud father? He hadn’t even felt this way about Sapnap and he practically helped Bad raise him… multiple times.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, it's not that great,” George scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Hey Scar, can you come over here real quick” X called as he and Grian walked back into Boatem town.

“Yeah, be right over,” Scar called back before turning to Skeppy and George “Just make sure to put it back,” He said before running over to see what X and Grian needed.

George glared at Skeppy over his glasses, he was still holding his ax. “You're putting it back ok,”

Skeppy turned his body to put himself between George and the egg. “And why should I?” He pouted.

“Because,” George said calmly and quietly, so the others talking by Grian’s house couldn’t hear, “If you take it now they will know it was us and won’t let us leave.” George watched the gears turn in Skeppies head “So truce for now... we work together to steal the egg later,”

Skeppy glanced off to the side as he thought about it. Finally he nodded “Alright, agreed,” His fingers were crossed.

George grinned and pushed his glasses back into place “Great.” His fingers were crossed.

Skeppy climbed out of the hole and George helped him put the dirt and pedestal back. Skeppy begrudgingly let George hold the egg before putting it back on the Pedestal.

Ok so maybe holding the egg was kind of cool George thought smiling softly before Skeppy made him put it back.

---

“So what’s up?” Scar asked coming over to join X and Grian. Now that Scar looked at him, Grian wasn’t looking too great. His feathers and hair were rumpled more than usual and he was leaning on X’s arm. “You ok there?”

“Yeah, Just got a concussion.” Grian shrugged.

“He flew into a barrier while trying to get into the Dream SMP Server,” X explained.

“Oof,” Scar winced at the description.

“He should be fine after a month or so, he just needs to rest and not do anything too strenuous.” X continued, “Also it is probably a good idea not to let him sleep unsupervised for a couple of days.”

“Got it,” Scar nodded “I’ll be sure to keep him in line,”

“C'mon guys, you don’t trust me?” Grian teased.

“I wouldn’t trust you with a ten foot pole,” Scar laughed.

“Fair,” Grian chuckled, “Well anyway, thanks for walking with me back here X” He said letting go of X’s arm.

“No problem, just take it easy, got it?” X reminded Grian.

“Don’t worry. Besides this means I’ll have plenty of time to help the new guys settle in.” Grian added as he noticed Skeppy and George standing looking at his Dragon egg.

“Oh no you don’t. You are going inside and resting,” Scar said, taking Grian by the shoulders and guiding him into his house.

“No, but- I, I’m fine really,” Grian protested

“No buts, You rest, I’ll take care of everything.” Scar insisted and Grian gave up, letting himself be led off to bed.

[So I know I said I already had a bunch written in advance but when editing this part I realized I needed to add some interactions with Skeppy and George. I really like how this turned out but it is now longer than I originally planned so I am breaking it up into sub parts. The next segment will be out soon]

#dsmp #dream smp #hermitcraft #dsmp au #dream smp au #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft dsmp swap au #hc x dsmp #hc x dsmp au #grian #watcher grian #xisuma #good times with scar #skeppy #georgenotfound

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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Mirdal’ika (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Reader takes care of the Razor Crest and the child while Mando is out hunting. When Mando doesn’t return when he’s supposed to, the book-smart reader has to learn some street smarts and help her Mandalorian.

WC: 4.6k

Warnings: violence, cussing, mentions of blood

A/N: Okay, I’m a nerd, a certified nerd as if that wasn’t clear. This is my love letter to the nerds out there, to the ones who had their first kiss a little late, who stayed in and read books rather than partying. I love you, you’re cool. Italics are for emphasis and internal dialogue, but in some places also to show that another language is being spoken. Hopefully that’s clear! Oh, also: mirdal’ika is a word of my own creation. No Mando’a word exists for “nerd” that I could find, so this is my interpretation of the language using my best etymological skills!

mirdala= intelligent, clever -’ika = suffix meaning small or little mirdal’ika = intelligent little one; Mando’a slang meaning nerd.

Growing up, you were the kid who had her nose buried in a book at all times. You rarely interacted with the outside world. While the other children on Tatooine made sandcastles or played games, drawing in the sand, you read encyclopedias and fact books, learning about the other planets in your systems and other cultures. Your fixation at age 12 had been on Mandalorian culture, fascinated by the warriors that were like faraway, mythical knights to your young self. As a child enraptured by fairy tales and stories of intergalactic heroes like Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, you’d somehow always been enchanted by the bad-boy type, the dark and mysterious man who reluctantly saves the day, more along the lines of Han Solo. Naturally, the fact that Mandalorians never showed their face was mysterious, and you’d admit that you dreamed of being swept away by the Mand’alor and having the privilege of being the sole person to see their face, of being a queen and finding true love. You later moved on to research other cultures, even teaching yourself various galactic languages should you ever get the chance to travel. That didn’t seem likely, growing up on a planet where the only claim to fame was Luke Skywalker’s brief residence a few towns over. Your knowledge of Mandalorian culture was part of what made you so special to Mando, your employer-friend-coworker-roommate-co-parent whose name you had yet to learn. You never asked questions of him. Never asked him to take off his helmet, never asked him what was under it, never asked anything too personal, understood that the helmet could only come off in front of members of his clan. You’d cut him off and finish a sentence when he’d explain something of his customs to you, stunning him with your knowledge. He liked it, and by association he liked you. You had bore much of your life story to him, and he gladly would’ve given you some of his. He had come to like you, to trust you even, but you never asked. For fear you wouldn’t want to hear it, he held back. You even spoke Mando’a, though he didn’t know that. It always brought a smirk to your face as he’d turn his back after calling you some sweet words in his native tongue, thinking you’d be oblivious. It shocked you at first; you didn’t expect such a stoic and silent man to be so openly flirtatious, but after a while it most certainly grew on you. You would tease him equally in another tongue, calling him handsome or dashing in Pak Pak or Bothese. It was fun, the way he’d try to guess what you were saying, usually assuming it meant something negative.

With your vast knowledge of languages, you’d both expected that you would be able to interpret the words of Mando’s adopted son, that his babbling would be easily deciphered into some species’ tongue. Eventually you realized that he wasn’t speaking a language yet, simply regurgitating syllables like any child would. He was a baby, after all. You set out to make it your mission to teach the child languages when Mando was away, and he had begun to identify the meaning of words, even if he couldn’t say them himself. He could identify body parts on himself, you by your name, and Mando by his; well, the name you called him, which you knew wasn’t his real name. Mando had taken you on as a crewmate for the Razor Crest a few months ago now, and you still knew next to nothing about the beskar-clad warrior. He was a forward man, so you assumed he would tell you things when he was ready. That’s about all you knew: he was a man, and he was a Mandalorian. He wanted to tell you everything, especially the fact that he had been enchanted by your intelligence and wit since the first time he met you, stopping on Tatooine for a bounty and encountering you when he asked a fellow villager who the most knowledgeable person around was. The tiny green thing he held was a menace, and you cared for him while the Mandalorian man went and hunted his bounty. The child was hesitant to leave you, getting attached after a quick few days of staying in your hut, and the man had decided you could be valuable. Just before he walked through the door, he turned and offered you a job. You were shy when you accepted, and had nursed a crush the whole time you two had traveled together. You couldn’t believe the situation, just like in those trashy novels you’d read when you were interested in his culture. Now that you lived with him and the tiny green thing, you stayed aboard his ship while he hunted and cared for the kid, cleaned, fixed up the piece of junk, and generally ran the almost-household. It was enjoyable; you liked the man, especially once you came to find his sense of humor similar to your own, and you absolutely adored the child in your care. Your little ragtag crew fell into a rhythm after the first month or so: Mando would leave on a hunt for a few days. While he was gone, you’d play with the baby, feed him and care for him. You washed the blood and dirt from the man’s clothing and the child’s bile from the clothing belonging to you and the baby, taught the child new words, and generally… well, raised him. The baby felt like your child when you two were alone, but when the Mandalorian came home, he was the only thing visible in that child’s round black eyes. It was all about him, sitting in his lap, babbling incoherent words to him, playing with him. Luckily for you, the Mandalorian is on a hunt. You and the child sit in the bed compartment; you lie on the mattress and the child rests in his mesh hammock above the entry. At the last port, you picked up as many books as possible to entertain both you and the child. He loved listening to your voice, and so you happily read aloud to him as you rest together. The Mandalorian should be home tonight, you figured, since he told you that this was a rather easy bounty and that it should take him no more than 3 days. It’s now a couple hours after the third day, but you’re sure it’s fine. The child’s eyes droop closed as you read to him, flawlessly translating the book from the Pak Pak it was written in. The Basic words pour from your mouth, and the little thing gives a gentle yawn before curling up with his favorite blanket and silver ball and passing out. Looking up, you laugh at the sight softly and transition to reading in your head. Not long after the kid falls asleep, you follow. It was unintentional, but reading soothes you, and the perfectly cozy bed that smells like Mando draws you in further and further until sleep washes over your body. You hug one pillow to your chest as you sleep, imagining it was the man’s body you cuddled up against. - Mando is 24 hours late. You’ve been pacing in the ship since you realized it’s officially a day later than he said he’d be back. Dammit, you’re going to find that man. You’re not unaccustomed to violence, having been in scuffles as a child and teen, fighting off Jawas or unsavory men in Tatooine cantinas. You need to track him down and find him. First, you go up to the cockpit and look at the comm watch he gave you. It has a two-way tracking device; one for him to find you, and one for you to find him. Mando has the technology to see where you are built into his vambrace. You, however, have nothing. After searching the cockpit, you find and crack open a tracking fob he used in the past. You open the back of the comm watch, finding the bit with the tracker and wire it to the fob. As you connect two wires, the fob suddenly blinks with light. Laughing at the fact that you made it work, you relax a little. Now you can track the Mandalorian man down. After slipping the fob into a pocket of your pants, you scoot back down the ladder and to the cargo hold’s back wall: Mando’s arsenal. You can do this, you tell yourself, and dare to open Mando’s personal armory built into the wall. You strap a holster to your thigh, adding a vibroblade there. A belt with two guns rests on your hips. An ammo belt drapes across your chest, settling between your breasts and pulling your black tank top tight, the back of the leather sash holding Mando’s backup pulse rifle. You take a look in the mirror of the refresher, and you have to admit that you look badass. Weapons and homemade tracker at the ready, you set out to find him. You leave the baby with a trustworthy woman at the hangar, one who has babysat him before for Mando, then enter the bustling city. - Following the blinking and beeping of the fob, you find your way to the opposite end of the city, to a building located near the outskirts. It’s run down and looks abandoned. It makes perfect sense that someone would hide here. As you approach, the beeping of the fob encourages you; the Mandalorian is definitely here. You disable the sound on the fob and slip it in your pocket, grabbing one of the blasters from your hip. As you approach, the building is silent. The roar of the city is quiet but present, and you slip through an open doorway quietly. You scan the rooms, blaster held in front of you and ready to shoot. You take inventory of the first floor and find nothing. The staircase looks terribly old, and you wince as you take your first step onto it and it makes a noise. Now or never, you tell yourself and quickly run up the steps, knowing the noise can’t be avoided, so you’d better make it quick. You reach the top of the steps, pulling out your other blaster, and find a male Twi’lek standing over a pile of silver and black on the floor. Mando. He’s most definitely unconscious, maybe even- no, he can’t be dead, you can see his slow breathing and the way it makes his body rise and fall. “Fuck,” you say out loud, and the Twi’lek turns towards you. The man is large, much larger than you. He’s overweight and dressed in combat clothes, his face battered and bloody. Your heart sinks as you realize this man is the bounty Mando was going for. You need to start thinking on your feet, and quickly. The man starts to move toward you and you hold out both blasters. “Easy there, nerra,” you tell him in Twi’leki, calling him ‘brother’ to attempt to put him at ease. It doesn’t have the effect that you hoped. “Why are you here?” he asks back, also in Twi’leki, reaching for his weapon. “Don’t draw,” you threaten and inch closer. He was a bail jumper, Mando had informed you before he left, but not for a petty charge; he had escaped in order to avoid several charges of murder. He was a former bounty hunter, who Mando had encountered once. The idea strikes you. “I’m here for him,” you say and nod to the lump of beskar behind the man on the ground. “There’s a bounty on his head. I… heard whoever turns him in gets to keep the beskar too,” you say, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. “You going for him too?” The Twi’lek man shakes his head. “No. He was coming for me. Thought he could beat me.” You seize this opportunity. “From what you look like, I don’t think anyone could. This one is worth a lot of credits. Enough to run away to a pleasure planet… twice over,” you say, inching closer. Mando makes a soft groan and it breaks your heart as he gains consciousness. He must notice you; he starts to moan out words, but you know he can’t speak or he’ll expose you both. “Silence, Mandalorian,” you say again in Basic, words holding acid. “Twice over… let’s bring him in together. Find some wonderful planet to share that bounty on…” you offer, raising an eyebrow and slowly creeping closer to the man. “What’s your name?” You ask. He tells you his and you tell him yours, then give him a seductive smile. The man’s face falls into a smirk. You put both blasters in your belt once more and his posture relaxes fully. “Sounds wonderful to me, beautiful.” “Wow. For a jaded bounty hunter, you’re more foolish than one could ever believe.” Before the man can process your words, you’ve slung the pulse rifle over your shoulder and pull it into position. You shoot a pulse and it finds its target in his chest. He groans in agony and falls backwards, directly on top of Mando. Wincing for the man beneath the hulking Twi’lek, you grab a blaster, shooting the man in each leg. “Mando, hey, it’s me,” you tell him as you roll the behemoth from on top of him. “I’m here,” you murmur. He starts mumbling back, but it’s in Mando’a. That makes sense, you suppose, that he’s reverting in such a moment of crisis. “How hurt are you?” you ask, beginning to speak Mando’a to him in hopes he’ll understand you better. Mando’s brain works through the fog, hearing your words and recognizing that it’s you. “Real bad,” he groans out, speaking his native tongue. You touch his elbow, unprotected by beskar, and he whines. “No, no,” he whimpers, sounding almost like a child. You sigh. This was going to be harder than you expected. “Fuck, how am I going to get you out of here?” The brain function that the Mandalorian has left is your saving grace. “Speeder bike. Hidden down there. We can get on.” “Yes, but how are we going to get you downstairs?” He doesn’t respond, simply groans in pain. If this was going to work without immense pain on his part, some kind of miracle was going to need to happen. “I’m going to drag you down the stairs as carefully as I can, okay? We’ll let gravity do the work. Do you have a good arm?” “The left one… so clever, so smart, pretty girl,” he breathes out, words rasping. You blush at the words but chuckle. He’s in so much pain there’s no way he can think straight now. “I’ll go get the bike, then we’ll get you down there.” This is the hard part, you think to yourself. First, you run down the steps and search for the speeder bike Mando mentioned. You find it and sigh in relief. It’s a piece of junk, but it should do. You position it at the bottom of the stairs and then run up them again. “Okay, this is going to hurt. Can you roll yourself?” “No, shoulder’s all fucked up,” he mumbles and you groan. “Well, I’ll have to drag you on the good one. Get ready.” Taking his good arm, you begin dragging him towards the steps. He groans and you wince. “I’m so sorry, you’re doing so well,” you tell him as you move him. “Here we go.” Once he’s at the top of the steps, you hold him under his armpits, blushing at how close you are. He’s so strong, even injured, and you smile softly to yourself. You lower the two of you down the stairs with careful movements and manage to hold him long enough to get him seated on the speeder bike. He leans forward onto the handles. “One moment,” you tell him. Running up the stairs once more, you shoot another pulse into the bounty. He gives a dazed nod, clearly not understanding anything through the pain he’s in. You can’t let Mando leave this man behind. You’re sure he’s unconscious, so you repeat the same movements as before but with next to no gentleness. You toss him on the back of the speeder bike, where the gunner would sit, and tie him down with ropes before covering him with a blanket. “Alright, back to the ship as quick as we possibly can,” you inform Mando and get the speeder to a door wide enough to fit it through. Once it works, you hop on between Mando and the handlebar and start it up, moving as quickly as you possibly can. Soon enough, you’re back at the hangar that holds the Razor Crest. You enter the back way, using the speeder bike entrance. You hop off quickly and park it by the Crest. “Stay right there, I’m going to get this asshole into the carbonite,” you tell Mando. His consciousness hasn’t been clear for at least a day. He didn’t even process the fact that you had grabbed the bounty. “What? You got him?” “One of us had to,” you tease, enjoying the fact that the two of you are finally conversing in his native tongue. You’ve always loved Mando’a, the way the words sound rolling off your tongue. You untie the man, still unconscious, and haul him up the ramp of the Crest. You’ve seen Mando work the carbonite freezer once or twice, and you hope you press the right buttons as you force the man onto the slab. “Come on, baby,” you murmur to the machine, hoping it’ll work. With one final button, there’s a hiss and cold air blows from it, freezing him. You sigh in relief. You return to the main hold and pop out a cot for him to lie on. Running back down the ramp, you find the dazed Mandalorian in the exact spot you left him in. “I’m going to carry you into the ship,” you tell him, grunting with effort as you lift his practically deadweight body off of the side and into a standing position. You drag him up and immediately shove him onto the cot. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you cringe as he moans in pain at the contact with the cot. “One more thing and we’ll get some bacta in you.” The owner of the hangar is waiting for you outside the ship, holding the kid, both confused by the commotion. You very quickly and hurriedly explain to her that everything is fine now, thank her and pay her a generous amount of credits, and rush back onto the ship with the baby. “Keep the speeder!” You shout behind you as you close the ramp. - A full day and a half later, the Mandalorian awakens from a deep slumber with a pounding headache. He sits with a jolt, which only makes the headache worse. He looks around to find that he’s in the Razor Crest, the familiar hum indicating that he’s in hyperspace. The events of the past few days begin to manifest in his memory and he groans, lying back down on the cot. You climb down from the cockpit as you hear him stirring and find him on his side. “Good morning,” you say softly as you sit on the edge of his cot, the kid in your arm. You set the child down and he toddles off elsewhere. “You were out for a good day and a half,” you tell him and stroke his side softly. “How do you feel?” “Like shit,” he groans, rolling to his back again. He’s hyper aware of your touch, the way your fingers drag down his- oh shit, he’s shirtless, armorless- skin, avoiding the bruises. “You… thank you,” he says, gravelly voice soft. It sinks in that he’s wearing just a pair of shorts and his helmet. You must’ve undressed him, cleaned and bandaged his wounds. His breath catches in his throat. You nod and stroke his good arm. “Of course. That’s why you brought me on, isn’t it?” you tease. He chuckles, but it’s clear that takes effort. “Really, thank you. And you got the bounty too! Shit, mesh’la, I-” he says as he starts to sit, but you push him back down with a hand to his chest, caressing the side of his beskar helmet. “Nayc, stay down,” you tell him, chuckling softly. “Rest. I’ll bring you some water and go back up to the cockpit so you can take off the helmet,” you say with a soft smile, standing and going to where you keep the food and water bottles. As you move, he mulls over the events that led him here. He got knocked down and beat by the man that was supposed to be his bounty. That never happened. You came to rescue him and- wait. You just told him no, nayc, in Mando’a. In fact, you were speaking Mando’a to him the whole time you rescued him, reassuring him and directing him in his native tongue, which he had no idea you spoke until just now. You return with a nutrient bar and water bottle, setting them next to his side on the cot. “I’ll head back up-” you start to say, but he stops you by grabbing his wrist. “You speak Mando’a,” he says simply, looking up at you with wonder behind his mask. “Yeah,” you chuckle and admit, face flushing with warmth. His is equally heating beneath the beskar. He sits up slightly but instead you come to his level, sitting on the edge of the cot and pushing him down with a firm palm to his chest. He chuckles softly. “So you’ve understood me every time I’ve called you beautiful,” he says, a tinge of shyness in his modulated voice. Nodding, you tuck a stray hair back from your face. “I… yes, I have,” you nod, giving him an awkward smile. “I hear you talk in Mando'a in your sleep too, sometimes.” Even his chest is flushing with warmth now. You look away, at a corner of the ship “You talk about your life. People from your past.” The silence hangs between the two of you, your hand still resting in the center of his chest. You slowly drag it to his good shoulder, and down his arm. He clasps your hand in his when it reaches his fingertips. “Have you heard the name Din?” He asks in his native tongue, and you shake your head softly, truthfully. It never came out. “That’s… my name. Din, Din Djarin,” he admits to you, hand squeezing yours softly. You gasp softly, not expecting that information from him. A smile settles on your face after a moment. “Well then. Hello, Din.” You lean down and press your forehead to where his lies beneath the metal. A keldabe kiss, you know, the most intimate gesture a Mandalorian can do. It truly melts his heart, the organ pumping frantically in his chest. “Hello to you too, gorgeous. Wait,” he stops and pushes your face from his, gently. He returns to speaking Basic with a chuckle. “How many languages do you speak?” You look upwards, mentally counting. “Uh. 8 and a half. I’m still not finished with Ubese,” you say and turn back to face him, a shy smile gracing your face. “Wow. You’re a mirdal’ika,” he tells you, the smile evident in his voice even though you can’t see it through the mask. Separately, the syllables make sense. You understand the direct translation, but it’s odd, and you cock your head to the side as you look down at the Mandalorian- no, Din. “Little clever one?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Yes, well, that’s the direct translation. It’s really more of a slang term.” “For?” “In Basic… I believe the equivalent would be… nerd.” “Din!” You squeal and laugh, smacking his good shoulder lightly with a backhand. “Excuse me, that’s rude,” you chuckle, the smile growing even wider on your face as you look down at him. He doesn’t respond for a moment and you give a soft sigh. “Well, you need to drink that water. I’ll head back up to the cockpit,” you tell him, really meaning to leave this time, the smile falling. Once again, as you stand and try to move, he grabs your arm. “I… I think I’m going to need help with that,” he admits, almost ashamed. “Please. Stay.” You nod, but then realize what it implicates. “No, Din,” you sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t do that to you, you and that helmet, it’s… it’s your everything, I couldn’t possibly-” “Please, cyare,” he asks in his native tongue again, and your heart melts. “I want you to see me. I need you to see me.” Heart pounding, you take a beat before you respond with a nod. You sit down once more, hands slowly tracing up his sides, then his chest and up to the base of his helmet. “You’re sure. Positive,” you ask. “Of course I am.” With a nod, you allow him to bring his hand to the side to unlatch the lock. Once it releases, he lifts his head just above the pillow and you slide off his helmet, catching the back of his head with one hand and easing it back down to the pillow. You make sure the helmet rests on the floor before you finally look at him. He’s gorgeous, truly. His tanned skin, which you saw when cleaning his wounds, is covered with dark stubble and a mustache on the lower half of his face, broken by two plush lips. Your fingertips trace his jawline as you take in his softly hooked nose, his dark eyebrows, his dark and messy hair, but most importantly, his eyes. His eyes are a beautiful chocolate brown, set gently into his face and looking at you like you’re a shimmering supernova, no, something even more beautiful. For a moment, you get caught up staring at him. “You’re absolutely beautiful, Din,” you mumble in Mando’a. He just gives a soft smile and murmurs his thanks. After you finish staring, you shake your head quickly. “Sorry, the water,” you chuckle nervously, turning to grab it from your other side. Din’s hand catches the side of your face. “The water is a secondary need,” he says softly in Mando’a, turning your face back to his. “I took this off for something else.” His eyes hold a question as he looks up at you. You bite your lip for a moment before breaking into a smile and nodding. The Mandalorian pulls your face down to his, and, ever so gently, your lips finally meet, real and warm and absolutely delicious. You sigh softly, putting a hand on the side of his face too. His lips are softer than you’d expected, while yours are just as beautiful as he dreamed about at night. You both continue for a moment, his hand drifting to your neck, completely lost in each other. A moment later, you pull back and giggle. “I have to admit something, Din,” you tell him and lovingly stroke the side of his face. “It better not be that you’re secretly engaged,” he asks teasingly, a soft smile on his face and raising an eyebrow at you. “No,” you laugh and run your hand through his curls, carding your fingers between the surprisingly soft locks. “That…” you gulp and look away before looking back at him. “Was my first kiss,” you admit and bite down on your bottom lip. He laughs softly but there’s love in his eyes. “A girl as beautiful as you never dated when you were younger? Never went out and flirted with her classmates?” You shake your head. “I was generally too busy at home, reading or teaching myself the language of the man who’d eventually be my first kiss.” You both laugh at that and you grin. His hand rests on the side of your face, gently sweeping his thumb across the skin beneath his fingers. “Of course you were. My little mirdal’ika,” he laughs, bringing your face to his to kiss you once more.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #baby yoda #the mandalorian fanfiction #grogu #the mandalorian fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #din and grogu #mando x reader #mando

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dawn-cafe · 3 years

Text

Modern AU meet-cute series

A/N: I didn't have to include a moodboard with this but I felt like being extra. Also... this was meant to be just a headcanon list but here's a whole ficlet, I guess! Can’t decide if I’m gonna finish Childe’s or Diluc’s after this, so inputs are welcome. Requests are open, rules are here! -Hal

Prompt: meet-cute

Content includes: Part 1 of Modern AU meet-cute series. model!kaeya, semi-ooc kaeya i think, florist!reader

Pairing: kaeya x gn!reader

Kaeya: he's a model who's escaping the paparazzi and you're closing up your flower shop

Kaeya's a pretty big-name model in Mondstadt.

He's been featured in Fontaine Fashion Week for the past 2 years and has modeled for every season for Favonius & Co.'s works.

With such popularity, you'd think he'd have some sort of body guard to keep him away from the prying eyes of Teyvat Pop News.

But no, he's a pretty stubborn guy and Jean, his manager, never fails to give him a piece of her mind every time.

He finds himself escaping from a few paparazzi as he's walking home from the mall, so he detours and tries to find a place to rest after he think he's lost them.

Kaeya then spots the lights on inside a little flower shop and thinks, "Oh, thank god."

You're closing up your little flower shop, sweeping the floor of any fallen leaves and flower petals you've cut up for the day. Normally, you'd keep the shop running til evening, but something felt off and you couldn't place what it was. So it's only late afternoon, yet the shop sign has been flipped to 'CLOSED' and you're packing up hours before closing time. There's faint music coming from the back room and you're humming along to the tune when the serenity gets cut off by something knocking on glass. You jump in surprise, looking behind you to see someone by the porch. By the looks of it, they were out of breath from running.

Setting aside your cleaning equipment, you walk up to the door to see a blue-haired guy, dressed in similar-colored clothing, hands on his knees as he pants. He looks up at you with starry blue eyes and blows his bangs away. You think he looks familiar, and that he's breathtaking even when he looks frazzled.

The chimes ring as you open the door a crack. "Hey, sorry..." you start, "but we're closed for the day." you tell him halfheartedly.

Kaeya stands up and you see he's taller than you expected. He leans back and looks to the side past the road, and blue eyes meet yours in desperation. "Sorry, I'm trying to get away from... a few people." His head tilts to the side, puts on the best puppy-dog eyes he can muster, and clasps his hands together. "Can I come in and stay for a while?" he pleads.

It's bizarre, you think, that someone could look so innocently cute yet dangerously handsome at the same time. At first, your instinct is to open your mouth and agree to help him. Of course, if this was a bad situation and you're the only refuge he could find, who were you to deny him? Though there's also the possibility that this could be a really bad scheme, and he'll rob you as soon as you let him in. He looks too dashing to do such a thing, but you can never be too sure... but also do robbers even wear designer clothes like he does?

He senses the hesitation in the way you don't immediately respond. "I-It's nothing dangerous, I swear!" Kaeya's slim hands are held up in front of him in defense before he runs it through his deep blue locks. The cool afternoon breeze sweeps his cologne to your direction. He smells of mint, of fresh summer air and freedom. "The paparazzi won't get off my back and I could really use the help," He explains briefly.

At the mention of paparazzi, it makes so much more sense. You still don't remember where you've seen him, but he sure fits the role of some celebrity by the way he dresses and carries himself. That... and his face looks really attractive. He's still smiling at you with just the tiniest bit of desperation creeping in his voice when he talks. All caution goes out the window as you open the door wider. There's still no one behind him, but you usher him inside your little shop. "Alright, but if they start bombarding my business, that's on you." you warn him playfully.

The breath he's holding escapes as he exhales in relief. "You're an angel," He beams at you with the brightest of smiles.

The door closes and is locked once again, and you go around the shop to close the blinds just a little. Kaeya breathes in. He's not the first stranger to walk in your shop, but it sure feels a little awkward as if you're being judged. "Do all flower shops smell this good, or is it just yours?" he asks coyly, taking in the array of flowers and plants on display. The playful roll of your eyes and your retort of "Do you ask this to all florists, or is it just me?" make him laugh, with his eyes crinkling at the corners and a hand over his chest.

He follows you around, assisting you in closing up, and you don't miss the way he wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead most likely due to his escapade. "It's better this way," you say, pulling a string to close a set of blinds, "at least they won't see you." With the last of the blinds shut, you turn to your pseudo-customer and ask, "Would you like some water?"

"Please." the embarrassment shows on his face.

You disappear in the back room for a bit, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. When you emerge to the front of the shop, you find Kaeya seated on a barstool next to the counter, idly thumbing the calla lilies on display next to the cash register. The beginning of the day's sunset peeks through the slats of the blinds, capturing him like a painting. It's peaceful, ethereal, and you almost want to pull out your phone and take a quick photo to immortalize what you see. It doesn't help that some love song starts playing on the shop's speakers. The spell is broken when he catches you looking, and he looks at you with an easygoing smile.

Clearing your throat, you step forwards and place the bottle of water in front of him. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, and if he notices you were staring, he doesn't comment on it. "Here." You place the bottle in front of him and he takes it eagerly. "Thank you." Kaeya bows his head graciously.

Picking up where you left off, you hold the broomstick and dustpan and start cleaning the floors again. "So um... you're gonna have to forgive me," you sheepishly smile at him, "but why are you being chased by the paps?"

As fate would have it, the magazine rack next to the counter has several magazines including a copy of last month's Mondstadt Fashion. And he recognizes himself on the cover, wearing a few of Favonius & Co.'s Spring Collection pieces. Kaeya picks up the magazine and places it on the counter, which you peer at curiously. The double-take you do makes him laugh again, watching you look at the cover, then to him in front of you, and back at the cover.

"Oh," you murmur as the realization dawns on you. "you're a model."

You don't dwell much on celebrity gossip so you don't really recognize most of them at first glance. But no wonder he seemed familiar, you'd seen him in a couple of magazines both in your store and in news sites. If paparazzi were chasing him, he must be a huge hit with the general public.

For Kaeya, however, he shrugs like it's no big deal. "Specifically, Teyvat's hottest model and top bachelor of 2021." he says as he closes the water bottle cap. "According to Mond Fashion." he adds with a cheeky wink. You scrunch up your nose impishly. "Still though, having paparazzi invade your privacy and all." you shake your head to the floor mostly, still occupied with cleaning the remaining dirt. "Glad I could be of use somewhat." you tell him.

“Kaeya.” he holds out his hand in a formal handshake.

You give him your name and grasp his hand; it’s soft, like the smile that never leaves his face

Kaeya offers to help around with your closing routine, but you stop him before he could pick up the broom again. It feels wrong having someone else do your tasks even though it's offered in good faith (and after all, he wanted to repay you for taking him in past your closing time). So you settle with having him arrange your excess daisies in a basket for tomorrow's bouquet orders. It's pretty easy work that he couldn't mess up, so you leave him at it while you clean out your floral buckets. Still, you try to speed through your routine and leisurely chat with him, thinking he must be bored with his task.

What hobbies do celebrities even have?, you wonder. Surely it can't be chatting up some florist and counting flowers.

"Do I look pretty?" he asks abruptly. And when your eyes land on him, your breath gets caught in your throat.

Kaeya looks different. In fashion magazines he's featured in, he's always prim and proper, composed. It's not to say he's stiff, because he definitely carries that confidence wherever he goes. But to be dressed and told to act, smile, and pose a certain way; it can look... artificial. But here, sitting on a barstool with a few daisies in his hair; here with his blue jacket draped across his lap, a loose white shirt and hands full of flowers. Here, where instead of studio lights, it's just the soft lights overhead on your small store. And here, where instead of cameras taking shots upon shots of his face, it's just you in your apron that he focuses on.

"Breathtakingly so." You smile.

By the end of the day, he has a whole flower crown on his head and you wonder why blue's related to sadness when it's brought you joy when you least expect it.

#i swear i only meant to make this a headcanon list #somehow i ended up with over 1.6k words on kaeya alone so that's that #i know nothing about flower shops im sorry #and i haven't written in ages #just hal things #genshin impact #genshin impact moodboard #genshin moodboard #genshin impact fanfic #genshin fanfic #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya #kaeya fanfic #kaeya x reader #kaeya moodboard #moodboard #fic

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smellsfaintlyofvanilla · 3 years

Note

Hey~~ could you write Annie x reader? What I had in mind was towards the end of s1 when Annie was trying to climb up the wall, could she try and take reader with her because they always talked about being together? Kinda like when Ymir took Historia in s2, and I really love your writings 💕 thanks~

TAsdfhjksfadh you didn’t specify whether Annie made it over the wall with the reader or not so uh I just kinda picked one lol hope you don’t mind

Also, sorry this is a little late, I've been feeling just a little sick for the past couple of days.

Prove It

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: Season 3 spoilers

Category: Mostly angst, little fluff

Summary: When Annie was outed as the Female Titan, she didn’t have a lot of options on where to go. And, as the fight between her and Eren progresses, it becomes clear her best option is to flee. Yet, there’s just one thing she can’t leave without. And it seems the feeling’s mutual.

Words: 3.1K

That wicked laughter.

It rung through the empty streets of Stohess, abandoned specifically for this military operation.

The goal? To lure out the suspected Female Titan, Annie Leonhart. Your girlfriend.

At first, you were violently against participating in the operation. You weren’t going to incriminate her, that would be incredibly faithless. Really, you wanted nothing more than for her to be vindicated, and to prove the the world the the “heartless” Annie Leonhart is a loyal soldier, not the traitorous snake they started to make of her.

It got in your head, most certainly. Within hours of the first discussion, ‘Annie Leonhart’ and ‘Female Titan’ had become synonymous with each other, and you hated every bit of it. You always defended her fiercely, because you could only hear so much distasteful talk towards her before you started to broil over with rage.

So, you agreed. You were going to lure Annie down in to the tunnel and prove once and for all that she wasn’t a monster. You could clear her of suspicion, and the two of you would go back to your ordinary lives with each other.

And oh, if only that was what happened.

But you watched in horror as Annie refused to go down the tunnel. She laughed, laughed, when you pleaded with her to follow you, that all she needed to do was come along with you to be unshackled from the scrutiny and doubt.

But her feet remained planted in her rigid stance of defense.

“Y/n...” She slurred out, laughter finally subsiding. “I’m glad I could be a good person to you.”

The slope of fear seemed to lose it’s steadiness, and the drop-off into the pit of empty horror occurred when she held up her hand to her mouth, preparing herself for the bloodshed to follow.

“You’ve won your bet. But this is where my bet begins...!”

The signal flare fired, and the countless soldiers waiting in ambush jumped from all angles. You watched, wide-eyed and frozen, as they restrained her and gagged her, like muzzling a dog. But, it was no use. Her ring, the silver ring she never let you touch, sprung up a spike out of it’s side, and a quick slide of her thumb across the tip opened up a bloody gash in her finger.

And then came the lightning.

Mikasa had thrown her arms around you and Armin, dragging you down into the tunnel to get out of harm’s way of the transformation.

You knew she had finished her transformation when the thundering stopped, and chunks of debris rolled to a stop at your feet, stirred dust slowly settling itself back onto the stone ground. For a moment, everything stilled, and only the ragged breaths of Armin and the sheathing of Mikasa’s blades were audible.

And then something moved.

You weren’t sure what it was, until around the corner, the light was consumed by a large shadow, growing closer and closer and absorbing more of the sunlight until it rounded the corner.

A fingertip. Then the finger. Then the hand. An arm—and it was traveling down the hallway, fingers frozen in a pose as if it were trying to grab onto something, something it couldn’t see.

“Shit!” You let out a terrified yelp and took off running, Mikasa hot on your tail and Armin stumbling closely behind.

It sought after the three of you, until a distant thump could be heard. You whipped your head around and stopped running, noticing the hand—ever present, it’s finger stretched desperately in an attempt at grabbing something, but it was no use. You caught a glance of it’s upper arm, flush against the wall of the curve.

She couldn’t reach any farther.

You let out of a sigh of relief, falling to your knees and gazing at it. It’s shaking fingers stopped, finally, and went limp into it’s palm in defeat, before slowly pulling itself out. You had no clue whether it was trying to grab you, or Armin, or Mikasa, or if it was planning on killing you or not. Bottom line, it was unsuccessful.

But then more thunder.

It seems Eren finally got his cue, because the signature yellow hues of transformation shone even into the dark abyss of the wrecked tunnel.

The three of you took a deep breath and shared a collective glance. Before long, the unsaid instructions were followed, and the three of you scurried out of the tunnel to witness the action.

And action it was—the first sight you were greeted with upon exiting was that of Annie delivering a decisive punch to Eren’s jaw, sending him flying backwards into the streets of Stohess.

Eren returned to his feet as fast as he could, and let out a menacing roar as he charged at Annie, arms low like a football player preparing to pounce on something.

He charged, but her feet remained planted, arms bracing for impact.

You watched as the two of them brawled furiously. You didn’t even notice that Mikasa and Armin had left your side—you hadn’t moved. You couldn’t find it in your heart to fight Annie, but neither were you going to fight Eren. No, all you could do was watch, helpless.

The battle continued fiercely, absolutely wrecking the city in the process. Building were destroyed and crumpled, streets of stone completely upended as one or the other got helplessly tossed around.

It came to a head as the fight eventually progressed to a wide, open space of stone, and the two of them were fighting hand to hand, both of them looking worse for wear. You shot your ODM gear into the roof of a nearby building, watching the fight with a slacked jaw. You had no clue how Eren was even standing a chance to Annie, since you yourself had seen how skilled she was in martial arts.

Soon, though, a decisive kick to Annie shin sent debris and rocks flying everywhere. Annie lost her footing, tumbling to the ground with a thump.

And you had been so fixated on Annie in that moment that you failed to notice the debris, and it was headed right towards your face.

Something—rigid and powerful—collided with your head, and you fell to the ground instantly.

Your vision was already fading, and you watched as tiny streams of crimson flowed over the shingles and down the roof—no doubt stemming from the newly opened gash on your scalp.

The distant clinking of the rock as it tumbled down the slope of the roof was the last thing you heard, and the world around you faded to black.

---

Through the darkness, a memory flashed through your mind.

---

It was dark out, of course it was. Shadis would never let you have leisure time at all when the sun was up.

You leaned against an lone oak tree, fingers brushing through the soft grass idly. The air was cold and crisp, and a soft breeze flowed through the air, just barely enough to rustle your soft hair.

Annie sat silently next to you, shoulder brushing up against yours. Slowly, she slinked her hand over yours, hesitantly grasping at your hand. You entwined your fingers with hers, and she looked away shyly.

She often had bouts of insomnia, lying awake at night for hours, unable to get her body to relax. And, the first night she tugged at your nightshirt, waking you up to go outside with her, she fell asleep in your arms due to exhaustion almost immediately.

So, it had become an unspoken ritual from that day on. She couldn’t sleep, she’d wake you up, the two of you would go outside, and talk or busy yourselves until sleep inevitably caught up to her.

But today was different. For whatever reason, something had been keeping her up for a lot longer than usual. You knew something was weighing down on her heavily, but you weren’t going to pry it out of her.

Deciding to break the tense silence, you squeezed her hand gently, getting her attention before you spoke.

“It’s nice out, isn’t it?” You observed. You weren’t talking about the weather per-say, but the thousands of white speckled stars that dotted the sky, and the bright, full moon that illuminated the grass and dirt beneath you.

“It’s cold.” She said bluntly.

You chuckled softly, her bleak attitude was so characteristic of her.

“I guess that’s true.”

More silence.

And then she sighed, bringing your hand into her lap to cusp it in both of her palms, clinging onto it as if it were grounding her.

“What do you plan on doing later in life, Y/n?” She huffed, leaning her head backwards against the back of the tree and gazing up at the sky. “You don’t possibly plan on staying in the military your whole life, do you?”

“No, of course not.” You sighed.

“Then do you have plans afterwards?”

You paused for a minute. She raised a good point, you didn’t really think of anything after the military. Deep down, perhaps you understood that by joining the Cadet Corps you didn’t have much ahead of you. You can only survive so many brushes with death before it’s your turn to go.

“I guess not...” You hesitated, deep in thought. You swallowed a lump in your throat before changing the subject. “Why, do you?”

Even through the darkness, you could feel the shrug of her shoulders against you.

“Not really.” She muttered. “Just... stay with the MPs, make a living wage, retire somewhere in the interior, and... relax. I just wanna... find somewhere to relax.”

She paused for a second. Clearly there’s something tugging at her mind, something she wants to say. So, you sit back and wait for her to find the confidence.

“Do you promise me that... sometime, after a while in the Scouts, that you’ll come back to be with me?”

The future between the two of you was always painted with uncertainty—whether the two of you could ever truly stay together. It would be difficult, between soldiers, to be able to settle down and stay together no matter what, especially from different regiments. But you could always try.

She exhaled shakily, struggling to get the words out of her throat.

“I just can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you. ‘Cause... if anything ever happened to you in the Scouts...” Her voice trailed off near the end, and you assumed she was trying to plan out her next words carefully, until you heard a small sniffle pass her lips.

Surprised, you turned to face her. She was trying to fight off the tears at the corners of her eyes, lip trembling as she struggled not to cry. It wasn’t until now that you realized just how tightly she gripped your hand.

“Annie- Annie it’s alright.” You stumbled, trying to comfort her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was upsetting her—she was scared of living a life without you.

You hooked an arm around her lower back, pulling her closer to you and putting your other hand on the back of her head and guiding her to your shoulder.

“I promise you, no matter what, I’ll live. And one day, we can spend all our time together. I’ll go wherever you go, I swear.” You ran your hand through her hair, undoing the bun she kept it in and evening it out over her shoulders.

“You promise?” Her voice sounded shaky and weak, a vulnerability to it that she rarely showed. “No matter what happens to me, you’ll trust me and stay with me?”

“I promise. Of course I do.”

---

Warmth.

It was the first thing you noticed upon waking up. The second was darkness. You sat up, noticing how wet the surface beneath you was. And how how fleshy.

Your face paled in realization. You were in a titan's mouth.

You raised your arm up, cringing at the trail of saliva that connected you to her tongue.

Immediately, you searched for a way to get out. You didn't plan on leaving her behind, but you'd rather not be stuck in a place as slimy and dark as this either. However, your efforts were pointless, since her jaw was clamped shut, her teeth caging you in and preventing you from escaping. Your heart dropped a little, wondering if she didn't trust you not to run away.

Suddenly, you felt a large thump, the unexpected movement causing you to grab desperately at anything that would keep you grounded in one spot.

But then, another thump. And another, and another. It felt like running, almost, but far too slow. You pondered it for a moment, before you realized what was going on.

She was trying to climb the wall.

But then, the thumping stopped. She wasn't falling, thank god, but all movement has seized.

Hesitantly, her jaw started to open, giving ample space for you to squeeze through. A sudden thought came to you—she needed your help.

With no hesitation, you drew your blades and burst through the skin of her cheek, not even waiting for her to part for lips. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you immediately search for the source of the problem. And you found it in the brute of a soldier, Mikasa Ackerman.

The girl was perched on Annie's nose, staring down at her. A quick glance to your side and you realized, with horror written all over your face, that Mikasa had cut off almost all of Annie's fingers—one more and Annie would easily lose her grip.

You understood, as soon as Mikasa drew her blades towards Annie's hand, you only had one option.

You shot your ODM gear towards her, not even caring when the hook dug into Mikasa's shoulder, causing her to yelp in pain as she turned to you.

She wasn't even given a moment to process as you came hurtling towards her, colliding with her shoulder and sending both of you flying through the air and towards the ground—fast.

Despite the small voice telling you that it would be easier to just ditch Mikasa, to release your ODM gear and let her fall, you shot the other hook into the wall, and your momentum halted to a stop.

She peeled her arms away from their protective guard around her head, processing that the two of you had stopped before looking up to you in surprise. You looked back down at her, an expression of sorrow in your eyes. It hurt you to betray her, and all of your comrades, like this, but you knew as soon as Annie placed her trust in you by opening her mouth that you only had one choice.

"Y/n what are y—!"

"I'm sorry Mikasa!" You yelled, trying to put aside your emotions for the time being. "I can't... I can't leave her, I promised I wouldn't!"

You took a deep breath, positioning on your finger on the trigger, preparing to release Mikasa from your ODM gear's bloody grip in her shoulder. "I'm sorry..." You muttered, before pulling the trigger, watching Mikasa tumbled towards the ground, her betrayed expression still glued helplessly on her face.

You decided that it would only hurt you to look at Mikasa—engraining that image into your head would certainly plague you later on.

You finally turned to look back at Annie, and your heart picked up a couple paces at the sight.

Her head was turned to you, watching—waiting—for you, her hand outstretched in your direction. You smiled, firing your ODM and flying into the palm of her hand, quickly climbing up onto her shoulder to allow her to finish her ascent up the wall.

You turned back one last time, looking over at the destroyed city, and the furious and betrayed faces of your comrades. You sighed, turning back around. That's in the past now, you thought. It doesn't matter. I... made a promise to Annie, I can't betray her. I can't...

---

The line of trees in the distance grew closer and closer as Annie jogged forwards, having made it over the wall and all the way to the forest inside Wall Maria.

She slowed down to a walking pace as she neared the trees, kneeling on the ground before releasing herself from the nape of her titan. Steam flowed from her body as she immediately collapsed forwards, and you instantly lurched forwards to catch her exhausted body in your arms.

"Grab on." You instructed, waiting for her to securely wrap herself around you before you flew through the air and onto a tree branch, making sure you were safely out of the reach of any mindless titans before you let go of her.

She took a deep breath, leaning against the wooden trunk of the tree to recollect her strength. After all, even as a titan, the fight had done numbers to her body.

You sat there in comfortable silence for a little bit, waiting for her to catch her breath while you idly readjusted the straps to your ODM gear.

Finally, she reached over to take your hand, grabbing it in both of hers just like she had during your conversation with her years ago.

"I'm so glad..." She sighed, voice weak and wavering. "I was so scared when I opened my mouth that you would just... run off without me."

Slowly, she shifted, wrapping her arms around your neck and leaning her entire body weight on you. You could feel some of the tension leaving her body as she sighed against you, burying her nose in the crook of your neck.

"I was terrified that if you found out my real identity, you would just leave me. I don't know how I would've handled it. I was just..." She took a shaky inhale as she continued, and you felt a few wet tears against your neck. "Scared. So... So scared..."

You set a comforting hand on her back, hugging her tighter in an attempt to sooth her.

"Annie..." You cooed in her ear. "I promised you, remember? I would never leave your side. I'm gonna stay with you for the rest of my life."

Her breathing started to calm against you, your words managing to ease her worries.

"Yeah," She sighed, pulling away from you. "I shouldn't have doubted you, sweetie."

You smiled and placed your hands on her shoulders, bringing her in for a quick kiss before wiping her tears with the back of your hand.

"It's fine. Just remember," You leaned in and hugged her, exuding a warm feeling that made Annie's heart swell with love. "I'll always be on your side, no matter what."

"God, I love you so much, you dork." She muttered, heat rising to her cheeks with a content smile.

You chuckled, "I love you, too."

MAN THIS IS ASS

This is what happens when you force yourself to write with a headache whoops haha

#aot #snk #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader #annie leonhart #annie x reader #annie leonhart x reader

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mostly-marvel-musings · 3 years

Text

We were on a break – Chapter 6

A/N: It’s like I took a break from this series, lol.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: Strong language, angst, injuries.

Word count: 1.3k

Series Masterlist

We were on a break Taglist – @shipatheart @tone-stark @thevanishedillusion @kaestatic @lieswithoutfairytales @booktease21 @panicattheeverywherekid @taina-eny @infirebaby @buttercandy16 @xsvenjasophiex @holl2712 @mr-starksbitch @startrekkingaroundasgard @val-kay-rie @anxiousgoldengirl @dumb-ass-writer

Tony Stark Taglist - @raspberrymama @ladyeliot @boop-le-snoot @make-a-memory-drink-it-up @loveisallyouneed1125 @ownsmyheart @anthonyjanthony666 @downeyreads @the-secret-thief @getlostsquidward @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @elemephstudies @mycosmicparadise @feetoffthetablee @vibraniumwing

Everything Taglist – @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @suchababie @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry @chickensarentcheap @dontmindmyname123 @old-enough-to-know-better73

…

Consciousness played hide and seek leaving you queasy and exhausted. Traces of hemp, dirt and blood on your face made you aware that your face was battered and covered up with a cloth, low rumbling informing that you were on the move, an aircraft perhaps, there wasn’t a way to find out.

Your body was sweaty yet cold, sore and heavily drugged, yet you could figure out there were about four men in close vicinity, their voices garbled as they tossed you from your current position into another vehicle carelessly.

“To the garage Sir?” a hoarse voice came in from your right.

“Yep.”

“Looks like she’s waking up.”

As the vehicle began moving, a powerful blow to your forehead knocked you unconscious yet again, the voices drowning away and darkness swallowing you whole.

When your eyes opened the second time that night, you couldn’t recognize your surroundings. It was pitch black, the floor felt cold and hard, also like a bad cliché they’d tied you up to a chair. The evening gown you had on last sweaty and adhered to your skin, mouth taped shut and hair messed up.

The wound on your forehead smarted making you wince in pain as you struggled against the restraints. Wondering how long it would take for the team to find you, you settled down after realising the damn ropes didn’t budge despite your best efforts.

A door banged open from your right as bright light filtered through and a tall slightly familiar figure stepped in.

“You love being a fucking cock block in everything don’t you?” the man spoke and your eyes went wide as you recognised the voice.

Grant Ward kneeled before you, a shotgun in the hand he caressed your face with, wiping a loose strand of your hair away that had stuck to your forehead before ripping the tape off of your mouth roughly, making you wince in pain.

“You traitor. I trusted you!” you spat, voice coming out hoarse, weak from lack of use.

“And I thank you for that trust, really (Y/N). You helped me keep the act up all these years. If it weren’t for you and stupid promotion, we would’ve been way ahead of the program. Keeping Shield busy with smaller threats worked for a while, until Hill found out about Leeds and put you up for it.”

Your entire body was hurting, but nothing felt more brutal than this betrayal. Someone you had admired and trusted as a colleague turned out to be a back-stabber.

“Why are you working with Leeds?”

“Wrong question.”

Grant laughed and shook his head before slapping you across your face with his gun-held hand, the sting soon followed by the metallic tang of your blood.

“I guess there’s no harm in telling you since you are a potential subject now. Here’s the thing love, we’re making more super soldiers, Leeds is just our money bag.”

“Who’s we?”

“Hydra.”

As you processed the information, he stood up and began pacing about, checking his watch from time to time.

“What’re you prepping the lab while your rat awaits?” you spit.

“No. Just waiting for your ex.”

The mention of Tony filled you with dread, more than what you felt when he said you were basically about to be injected with a super soldier serum.

You hoped to God they weren’t using you to get to him. He had been in his fair share of trouble already.

“Why would you—?”

“Okay that’s enough, you’re annoying me now.”

Another mighty blow to your head, and you were out.

When your eyes opened, you found your reckless boyfriend zooming around the room blasting away in his typical heroic flair, not bothering to let you out of your restraints. You weren’t sure how much you’d be able to contribute to the fight given the injuries you bore but it’d be better than being tied in a corner like some damsel in distress.

The fact that he was actually here filled you with equal amounts of joy and fear.

Slowly realising you were in a different room, you found out it was the interior lab of possibly the same compound and you were tied to a bed. Craning your neck as much as you could, you checked if they’d begun with the procedure but thankfully there wasn’t an IV around.

“Tony, get here now and let me out of these ropes, you asshole!” you yelled, glaring at the man who currently had a guard choking against his metal grip, struggling before passing out on the floor.

“Leave it to the pros hon. Besides, I’ve this totally under c—” Tony was kicked from behind by Ward who was shooting ineffectively at the suit with his shotgun, ducking quickly when Tony pointed one of his repulsors at him.

“Under control huh?” you scoffed as Tony blasted one of the boxes close to where Ward hid before heading towards you, both of you missing Ward’s eyes flitting towards you as he aimed his gun.

It all happened too fast and too slow at the same time.

Your eyes were fixed on Tony who was headed your way, suit clunking as he walked. Hearing the two gunshots before you felt them pierce, one hitting your kneecap, the other right below your ribcage. A guttural scream echoed in the garage as the wounds bled, trickling down your body warm and wet.

“I wasn’t aiming right before.” Ward smirked, coming out of the hiding spot watching you bleed.

Tony felt the air punched out of his body as he rushed towards you, seeing you get shot, dreading the worst had happened.

You were having a hard time focusing on your surroundings, the heavy blood loss making you shiver and rapidly dizzy, remotely aware that Tony was by your side, freeing you.

“You’re an asshole.” You panted, breathing turned shallow, vision blurry.

“Save the compliments for later honey. I need you to not fall asleep, okay?”

The panic in Tony’s voice covered terribly with false calmness as he chuckled nervously, working the ropes expertly before picking you up, barking orders at FRIDAY to alert Dr Cho in med bay back at the tower.

The movement causing blinding pain to shoot through your body, you screamed and dug your nails in Tony’s shoulder. He carried you out to where the chopper stood on stand-by, carefully climbing in while whispering comforting words to you.

“The bullets Tony...remove t-the bullets.” You tasted metal on your tongue as your body trembled, sleep looming over your eyelids as they felt heavier by the second while the chopper took off.

“And watch you bleed out? You probably have a ruptured spleen, no way.”

“I’m not gonna make it anyway.”

“Don’t say that gorgeous. You’ve been through worse; I know how strong you are. Just focus on staying awake, we’re almost here.” Tony yelled over all the noise, the wind outside masking the crack in his voice as his screen displayed your vitals which showed your heart rate decreasing rapidly.

“Hey what do you say we come back to Seychelles for our honeymoon?” he continued, trying to get you to keep you talking, thankful that the tower came into view, his grip on your hand tightened when he felt yours getting more and more loose.

“W-we’re not even m-married Tony.”

“You always wanted to elope right? Let’s do that, what do you say? It’ll save us the hassle.” his anxiety growing as your voice turned frailer.

“Are you s-seriously proposing right n-now Stark?” An involuntary cough made the bullet move inside; a new wave of pain washed over you as the formerly pushed-aside sleep came to the forefront all of a sudden.

“Didn’t you open your birthday present? It was a ring, sweetheart. I mean that’s a terrible way to propose, I know but, I hoping I’d make up for it once I got back.”

Tony’s garbled words being the last thing you heard before the sweet embrace of darkness enveloped you once more.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark series #we were on a break #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark imagine #iron man angst #tony stark angst #tony stark fluff #marvel fanfiction

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cinnaminsvga · 3 years

Text

intermission • vi | moonlight

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. jungkook) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none!! it's just jungkook being a cutie!! → words: 3.7K → a/n: this intermission chapter was actually written by @jincherie!! i'm posting it on her behalf since she's currently on hiatus. she had this chapter mostly finished a few months ago and we were waiting to post it until we were both more active (lol) but yeah... things change i guess... anyway see you guys next year (i wanna say /j but really... is it really /j...)

— • masterlist | prev | intermission vi | next • —

Jungkook's strength has never been making friends.

In his mother’s words, a “pleasant and sweet boy” though he might be, that didn’t help much when it came to meeting someone new and the storm of butterflies in his stomach would grow so strong that it froze his limbs and caught his tongue. He’s not too good at first impressions.

A “pleasant and sweet, but terribly shy boy” is actually more along the lines of how Jungkook’s mother describes him, now that he thinks about it. That’s probably a little more accurate.

The sprawling complex he lives in is full of kids, and Jungkook knows each and every one of them. He might be challenged in the social area, but his mother is anything but. She says he takes more after his father, and since his father is usually relaxing inside and reading or drawing when Jungkook sees him at home, he figures that makes enough sense.

Every time someone new moves into the complex, Jungkook’s mother goes to greet them. Of course, he is graciously asked (read: forced) to come along too, just in case they have any kids around his age. This is how he normally meets the other kids on the block. It’s fine, he can’t complain. He has to admit it’s nice meeting all the new and different people that come through. His family is probably one of the ones that have stayed in the complex this long.

When the house next door is emptied of the family he knew, it’s a while before the next one comes in. By the time Jungkook peeks out his window one morning, woken by the telltale sound of a truck beeping as it reverses, and finally sees some movement in the house next to his own, his mother isn’t home. She’d moved into the hospital just a few days earlier, looking ready to pop with the little brother he’d heard so much about in her belly. He’s excited to meet his little brother, and now as he stands on his tippy-toes to get a good look from the window, he finds himself a little excited to meet the new neighbours, too.

It only has a little bit to do with the great, big, fluffy dog they have. Just a little.

It takes a few days for them to move in fully. Jungkook watches from his window every now and then, seeing all sorts of different cars come through. This family has lots of helpers, he notices. By the time they seem to really settle in, Jungkook doesn’t see much of them. Actually, to his disappointment, he doesn’t see anyone around at all. He still hears the dog, glimpses it every so often, but realised that they probably walk it in the mornings before he wakes up.

His mother is home before long, his baby brother cradled in her arms. The first thing she asks as she steps through the door is, “Have the new neighbours moved in? Have you met them yet, Kookie?”

This is perhaps the first time all week he hasn’t cared about the neighbours-- he’s transfixed with his brother. It stays that way for a few days, until the allure wears off when the tiny baby won’t stop crying at night. Perhaps his little brother is something best loved from afar for now, Jungkook surmises.

Back to the window he goes – except this time, there’s actually something to see.

There’s a child! A combination of nerves and excitement bubbles within him as he sees a kid in the backyard playing with the dog, throwing a Frisbee for the massive puppy to leap up and catch in its mouth. The kid looks a little…. feral. Like the baby from that one funny caveman movie he watched with his parents. They’re rolling around with the puppy, uncaring of the way grass and dirt get on their clothes and tangle their hair-- they laugh the whole time. It takes a second for the sound to reach him, but when it does it makes his heart do something funny in his chest.

Ah, the neighbour's kid is a girl.

It’s you.

Jungkook has always been a little more shy around girls, but has never known why. To meet you, he’s going to need his mother there for backup. This is probably the first time he’s outright wanted to go meet one of the neighbours. It’s a little embarrassing, so he elects not to think about it too much.

He thought he would have to pester his mother more to get up and go greet them, but it seems she’s a little sick of being in the house so much because she jumps up the second he mentions it. His baby brother is graciously asleep when they make the trip one morning to the house next door, nestled in his mothers arms looking like an angel wrapped up in fluffy clouds. Jungkook wonders if you’ll like his brother as much as he does. If you don’t, then he doesn’t know how good of a friend you’re going to be.

The doorbell is different, it’s the first thing he notices about the house. Your family must have changed it when you moved in. It’s a bubbly, fun tune now, and he doesn’t even realise the smile it brings to his face. His grip on his mother’s hand tightens, but he misses the fond look she casts over him.

When the door opens, Jungkook thinks his nerves just might eat him alive. He’s so stiff he’s worried he might turn to stone and disintegrate into dust on the spot.

It’s you who answered the door.

You don’t look as wild and unkempt as you did that day he saw you from the window. Actually, your hair is in two cute little buns on top of your head and there isn’t a spot of dirt or grime on your overalls.

The way your eyes light up when you see him and his mother, as well as the baby held to her chest, is enough to make him forget to breathe for a moment. When he remembers, he feels like running his head into the pole of the awning.

“Hey, sweetie,” his mother greets, that big smile on her face that normally wins everyone over. “We’re from the house next door! We wanted to come say hello and meet you. Are one of your parents home too?”

“Hello!” Your response is instant, and the smile you return is so big Jungkook can easily see the gap where you’re missing a tooth. It seems like you’re beating him, he hasn’t lost that one yet. “Yeah, my mama’s home-- you should come in! She said she wanted to meet you guys! Oh, also, we have a puppy! She’s big, and actually maybe she’s too old to be a puppy but… she’s cute. I want you to see her!”

You’re rambling, but you don’t seem to realise. Jungkook couldn’t get a word in edgewise if he wanted to, but he finds himself more than happy to simply listen as he and his mother follow you into the house.

Your mother isn’t as wild as you, but he notices the same little sparkle in her eyes that you have in yours. He wonders if he and his mother have their own matching sparkle. That would be cool.

Right away, his mother hits it off with yours – two socialites of a feather, it seems. You fawn over his baby brother for a few minutes while they talk (he knew right then that you were a good one), before grabbing him by the sleeve and insisting on showing him around. You get a full tour in, and miraculously Jungkook finds it in himself to ask a few questions as you go.

“S-so, you like it? Here?” Every time he opens his mouth the words don’t come out how he wants them, but he can’t do anything now. At least he only stuttered once.

“Yes! It’s so much better than my old house! There’s so many more kids here, and they’re all so nice too!” You’re more than happy to blabber on, a hand thoughtlessly carding through the long, fluffy fur on your dog’s back. Jungkook’s own hand is doing the same (the fur is just as soft and fluffy as he imagined). “There’s more room for Poopie to play, too.”

Jungkook still isn’t quite used to the name of your pet, but something more important in what you said is taking hold of his attention. “Wait, you, uh… you’ve met some of the other kids?”

“Yep,” you say, gaze off in the distance as you try to summon them all from your memory. “Not all of them, but some! Um, I think one of them is named…. Chanyeol…? He lives down the street. Then there’s-- …”

A queasy feeling fills his stomach. He thinks it might be disappointment. For some reason, he thought he was going to come in here and be the first kid you met, that he was going to tell you all about the complex, maybe show you down the street. If you turned out to be a real good egg, then he had even planned to show you his secret place. But now that he thinks about it, it’s a bit silly to think that none of the other families would have come to greet you by now. You’ve been here for more than a week, after all.

He had a good time when visiting you, but for some reason after that day, he finds himself hanging back a bit. He wants to go out and play with you and the other kids, but when he sees you getting along with them so well he’s reminded of that queasy feeling from that day and he stays inside. Which, oddly enough, makes him feel even worse. He feels like no matter what he does, he’s losing progress with you. Maybe you won’t even want to play with him at all, you might think he’s boring after having so much fun with the other kids.

“You gonna go out and play, Kookie?” his mother catches him staring out the living room window one afternoon. She’s bouncing his brother on her hip, the demon baby sated for the time being. “There’s still plenty of time before dark.”

“No, I’m okay,” he answers, hating himself a little bit for it. Why was it so hard to say that yes, he wanted to play, but also that he didn’t. He thinks his mother would be able to help, but he has no idea how to tell her his woes. “I think I might draw a little.”

“Okay, sweets.” She comes over and ruffles his hair. “But if you do decide to go out and play, just let me know so I know where you are, okay?”

He nods, and she leans to kiss his hair before wandering back into the depths of the house. Maybe he will do some drawing, he ponders. It might distract him from the sight of you getting along so well with all the other kids.

Jungkook’s strength has never lain in being outgoing. This proves itself over the months when his attempts to grow closer and befriend you turn out unsuccessful, without fail.

You’ve made a good space for yourself amongst the kids of the block. You’re nice, caring and understanding, and never mean – sure you pushed Chanyeol off the seesaw once, but that was because he was being mean to Suzie. He didn’t do it again afterwards, and peace was maintained in the playground in the park at the end of the complex. Your friendship is sought-after, and with the beginning of the school year looming so close he’s running out of time to establish a friendship between the two of you.

When he spends an afternoon riding his bike at the end of the street, looping around and through the park, it’s definitely not just because you’re sitting there with some of the other girls on the block. When he summons all the knowledge stored in his brain from watching those bike tournaments and attempts to do a little trick, it’s definitely not because he thinks you might be watching. If you happen to see and think he’s cool, then it is what it is. It’s not like he’s actually trying to impress you or anything.

It goes okay, for the most part. His legs are a little tired though. He probably shouldn't attempt the trick he’s thinking of next, but he swears he sees you glance his way and he feels a surge of confidence flow through him. He attempts it.

He botches it.

The bike clatters to the ground and he rolls a bit, but his knees take the brunt of his meeting with the concrete path.

Lucky he wasn’t trying to impress you, because that was pretty humiliating. Lucky you probably didn’t see, either. His knees burn and he feels tears prick at his eyes, probably not just from the pain. He feels so embarrassed, so dumb. He’s touched his bike five times since he got it for his birthday last year, why did he think he would be able to do awesome tricks on it? Dumb, so dumb. He flees the scene before anyone can notice what happened, and completely forgets his bike.

He’s made it all the way home before he even realises it, his vision blurred from the tears that just won’t stop falling and his knees still singing in pain each time he bends them. He almost goes inside, craving a hug from his mother and her gentle hands on his wounds, but then he realises she would ask what happened, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to tell her. It’s too embarrassing. He’s so embarrassed.

So he bypasses the front door, going around the side and slipping through the gate. There’s a tree that lines the side of the house where his window is, and it’s so tall it reaches well above the roof. Without pause, he climbs it, hands finding familiar grooves. He halts, hissing at the sudden sting – it would seem he’s scraped up his palms, too. His eyes burn with the added humiliation and he darts up the tree, making quick work of the climb until he reaches his special spot.

The roof of his house is mostly slanted, but there’s a flat bit at the very top on one side of the house. This is where he likes to go. No one ever looks for him here, plus the view is always very pretty. He doesn’t appreciate the sunset right now, though. He feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

The whole way home, Jungkook held in his cries. He didn’t want anyone to hear and tell his mother. But now, in the embrace of his little ‘safe haven’, he lets them out. He buries his head in his arms and sobs, the pain of moving his palms only making it worse.

He doesn’t know how his little body can handle so much embarrassment, let alone so many tears, but for the moment he doesn’t think about it and surrenders himself to his woes.

He must be up there for a while before his crying ceases. By the time he lifts his head, the last of his tears drying against his cheeks, the sun is just beginning to disappear beyond the horizon. It’s pretty, how it casts light around the shadowy silhouette of the city buildings in the distance. He kind of wants to show it to you. That thought is quickly shut down. He’s going to ask his mother if they can move cities so he doesn’t have to face you again.

Alas, the world just doesn’t seem to be working in his favour today. He hears the rustling of the tree before he sees it. By the time he looks over to investigate, you’re already clambering onto the roof, an oversized fanny pack bursting at the seams with whatever you’ve shoved inside slung over your shoulder.

“Hey!” You greet with a smile, apparently oblivious to the dumbstruck look on his face. “Man, it took forever to find you! If I didn’t see you from the window in my room, I never would have known where you went!”

That was the idea, he laments. He hadn’t wanted to be found.

“Anyway,” you say, plopping down a foot away from him, safely away from the edge of the roof. You swing the fanny pack around so the zip is at your front, and rip it open. Immediately, a tsunami of bandages and band-aids flow forth, fluttering to the tile before you. They’re all sorts of different sizes, but one thing is common across them all – they all have pikachu’s face plastered on them in one way or another. “These are my special band-aids! My mama uses them when I hurt myself, and they always make it heal really quick! I didn’t know how big your owie is, so I brought them all.”

Jungkook is still stunned into silence as you sort through them, organising the chaos at least a little. One of your buns has come loose, he notes. One pigtail, one bun. You look a little more like that wild child he first saw from his window. The knees of your overalls are smeared with dirt, too. He wonders if it got like that while you were looking for him. It makes him feel a little warm inside.

And a little warm outside – his cheeks are starting to burn. He doesn’t remember scratching them too, but maybe he did…?

“Let’s see…” you’re practically just holding a conversation with yourself at this point. He surrenders his leg without protest as you grab it to inspect his knee. “Yep. That’s a big ‘un.”

His whole face has lit on fire. Even his ears feel hot. Is that normal? Probably not. He’d have to ask his mother to take him to the doctor. Maybe he’s dying.

He notices how close you are suddenly, realises this is the first time you’ve been fully alone together (without Poopie), and suddenly he can’t think. Like, at all. He may as well not have a tongue because he can’t remember how to use it anyway.

Somewhere amongst the bandages you’d shoved some tissues. You pull them out now, gently clearing the dirt away from the wounds on his knees. You’re talking as you do it, but his brain is full of static. Your hands are even tinier than his. Is that normal? Wait, no-- they’re the same size. What is he doing…?

Is he going to get in trouble for being alone with a girl…? His mother hasn’t told him about the birds and bees like she said she would yet-- is that what this is? Will he turn into a bird if he gets any warmer? Jungkook doesn’t want to be a bird.

You are placing large plasters over his knees when he finally tunes in to what you’re saying. “… -that last trick was pretty cool, too. It would have been even cooler if you didn’t fall.”

Jungkook squeaks, “You saw that?”

You nod, apparently unaware of his utter humiliation. “Yeah! You’re pretty good on a bike. Can you teach me sometime? I want to show my dad.”

He makes a noise that sounds enough like an affirmation that you accept it, a big grin on your face. For a few more minutes, you finish patching him up.

“There! All done!”

Pikachu stares back up at him from his knees, looking a little wonky because of their shape. The band-aids are a bit wrinkled, but you look so proud of yourself he forces himself to ignore it. He looks up, the words of thanks he took so much courage to summon dying on the tip of his tongue as he sees you.

The setting sun changes the colour of your eyes a bit – it’s pretty, he finds himself thinking. Immediately afterwards, he blushes. Even more embarrassingly, he finds himself unable to help but observe that the sun suits you, actually. Bright, persistent, a little bit sparkly. In the sun’s last reaching rays of afternoon light, you look a bit like you’re glowing.

Of course, Jungkook is used to his silence, but it seems you’re only just noticing it. You seem to misunderstand it’s cause. “Oh, do they hurt?”

Your words tear him from his reverie, and the startled look on his face doesn’t exactly help his case. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realise they were that bad-- oh! I almost forgot the next step! My mum always does this whenever I hurt myself.”

Then, without a second spared for him to prepare himself, you lean over and plant a kiss on each of his bandaged knees.

Jungkook thinks he might explode. The entire neighbourhood is going to see him take off and zip through the sky like a rocket. His earlier thoughts of moving cities and changing his name come back full force.

“There, they hurt less now, right?” But you’re still grinning, still bright as ever with shining eyes hoping for a certain response. Despite himself he takes a moment to assess the level of pain he’s feeling – oddly enough, it does feel a bit better.

There’s no way he can manage to say that, though.

Instead he nods, wide-eyed. You let loose a sigh of relief, muttering about how you didn’t know what you’d do if that didn’t work. He swears he catches the slightest warmth in your cheeks, but doesn’t know whether it’s a trick of the sun.

“Thanks,” he finally manages, his voice just shy of a whisper. You hear him anyway and flash that gap-tooth smile his way.

“Of course! This is what friends are for!”

You think of him as a friend? Jungkook can’t help the dumb smile that rises to his face. He likes that. Friends. As the two of you stay on the roof until moonlight begins to filter through the tree and your parents are calling your name, he thinks he’d like for things to stay that way.

He’d like to be friends with you. Always.

#btsghostie #networkbangtan #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts fanfiction #bts reader insert #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #i dont even remember how to tag HAJDHASJ i havent posted a fic in so LONG #anyway yall thought fox rain was dead but i guess she lives for one day... next chapter is gonna kill me tho but im excited!!#see you sooner than later i hope lmao

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roger-that-cap · 3 years

Text

meet me in the gardens

summary: y’all know the drill

warnings: reader is sort of bitter/cynical because of circumstances, unedited, two girls bonding as they should

word count: 4.5k

this is part four! all other parts are available on my masterlist!

The first time you met with Natasha in your gardens, you felt like you were committing some sort of heinous crime. You constantly checked over your shoulder to make sure that no one was watching you, to make sure that no one was going to see that you were heading to meet someone, and especially that no one knew who you were meeting.

You were quiet as you rounded the area and saw no one waiting for you, your hopes of meeting with Natasha sparking out with more vigor than they had been sparked with, and before you could make yourself turn around, you sighed and then inhaled, trying to keep your nerves at a minimum. She wasn’t late. She couldn’t be late if she was doing you a favor. Before you could get too far in your thoughts, you heard the soft sound of a footstep coming, a stomp so loud that it almost felt intentional. You turned around and saw Natasha approaching, and for the first time, you saw the woman out of her armor.

It was like you were seeing something illegal, at first. You almost shied away, almost averted your eyes, but then you realized that you just… couldn’t. She was too pretty. She wasn’t delicate kind of pretty, and nor did she try to be or not to be, but she was just gorgeous. The moonlight, once again, was her ally as it worked to make her features pop, and illuminate her already bright eyes. Her lips were curved upwards in a hesitant smile, almost as if she didn’t expect for you to be there, let alone before her. And then it dropped, like she expected you to lose nerve and leave her there. The small sliver of vulnerability in her eyes made you take a small step forward and offer her your own awkward smile.

So, you spoke. “Thank you,” was all you were able to get out, but for the moment, that was enough. You expected her to playfully milk it, to ask you, “for what?”, and have you play some humbling game that was both passive and aggressive and teasing. But all she did was smile softly, as softly as the light was hitting the dew on the grass, and tell you that you didn’t have to thank her.

“Have you tried refuting it?” She asked, her voice a little less soft in the night.

“I told you, it’s useless.” You stood up straighter and walked past her slowly, implying that you wanted to walk with her through your garden. “The High Priest’s word is practically law.”

“The King is fond of you,” Natasha said, and you gave her a look. “If you ask him to challenge it, he will.”

“He may, but I doubt he would think differently than any of the others. They think I should be married. They don’t think that a woman should be in charge of all of the things that I am in charge of.” You kicked a rock. “They think we’re useless.”

“I know.”

“That’s why I looked at you like that, you know,” you blurted, and she narrowed her eyes at you as she tried to understand what you were talking about. “When we first met, do you remember how I stared at you?”

“I thought you were going to turn me away.”

“No, not at all. And I apologize for my rudeness,” you added, and she gave you that curt knight’s nod, the nod that told the receiver of it that everything was fine. That whatever happened could be considered buried. “But I looked at you like that because… I’ve never seen a woman be a knight before. I’ve never seen a woman with rough hands, nor have I ever seen her natural desire of battle be fulfilled. I’ve seen common women get dirty and scoop fertilizer and gain muscles, but never for themselves. Always for the good of the family, the good of the farm. I had muscles on the farm when I was young because I had to, not by choice. But you… you look the way you do and behave the way you do by choice. You chose to be a knight, to be a protector, and to have calloused hands. Unfortunately, I never grew up having choices, but after my husband died, for a while I finally did. But now they’ve left me again, and it’s even worse now that I’ve become a lovesick romantic for the idea of free will.”

You were more than embarrassed by your speech. You had hardly taken breaths throughout it, but miraculously, your words flowed together and you didn’t sound half as nervous as you felt on the inside after finally revealing a pathetic part of yourself. You waited less than patiently for her response as seconds ticked by with just the sounds of feet hitting and leaving the dirt, and the occasional drag of one foot against the ground.

“So, you’re jealous?”

You almost laughed. “Of course that’s what you got from that.”

“And you were a commoner?”

You frowned. You were sure that she had heard it from someone else if not by you. And if not by the sword of someone else’s mouth, you assumed that she could spot another commoner from miles away, beneath all the layers of skirt and manners that you forced yourself to keep. “Of course I was, you can’t tell?”

“Sometimes you use language that isn’t very… noble, but I wouldn’t have guessed that you were a commoner before.” You hummed and nodded to yourself. Your etiquette teachers always told you that your language and the accent that you so desperately tried to hide would be your downfall. That, and the way you used to stare at hot food in the beginning like you had never seen a slab of meat in your life. “You seem like you’ve adapted nicely.”

“I had no choice but to,” you said softly. “I was isolated. If I failed as a wife, there was no one that was going to be able to dig me out of the grave.”

“How did you meet Lord Mirellis?” You made a displeased sound, one that caught her attention. “You don’t have to answer.”

“You owe me a backstory,” was all you said before clearing your throat and continuing to walk, staring at the flowers that you tended to while you spoke. “He saw me while I was working on the farm. I was feeding the pigs, I’ll never forget. He didn't really say much the first time he saw me, just watched and loomed over me like a shadow. I didn’t think much of it at the time besides to give him a curtsy because he was a high lord and I was close to nothing, and then I kept doing my work. I was young, I smelled like mud, and I was feeding pigs from my hand. I never thought twice about the way he looked at me, with his narrowed eyes. I assumed he was looking at me in disgust, like most nobles do to commoners. I didn’t think twice.”

“I went back into my house, a little brick thing, and there he was. I remember curtsying a second time, and my hands shook because the air between him and my father was so thick. I remember feeling something in my bones, feeling that things were about to go terribly wrong. So there I was, standing on the hay doormat with mud up to my knees and straw in my hair, smelling like pigs. And then he asked my father- no- told my father that he wanted to take me to his home and wed me, and that he would have it no other way. My heart stopped there. He told him no, and for a moment, I believed that he would keep refusing, until the lord started giving offers. My heart stopped again, and it died when my father gave me one long look, and then looked at the man in front of him, who was much more powerful, much stronger physically, and able to ruin our family with one stroke of a pen. And then, without even talking to my mother, he told him yes.”

“Oh…” Natasha said, and you nodded your head and sighed, almost like you were recounting another’s boring tale and not your own.

“It felt like before I could even blink, he took me home, here, and married me. It was quick and expensive and I remember wearing a beautiful dress on that day, probably the prettiest dress I had ever seen at that point. It was everything I wanted as a child, because luxury was my first choice, even though it had gone unanswered and unfulfilled. And then I learned that luxury and the prettiest dresses that came with it didn’t mean anything if I didn’t have the choice to go with it. It was hard for me to learn, but I learned. But I didn’t learn to settle with my husband. I warmed his bed because I had to, I held his hand in front of others because I had to, I mingled with his family because I had to and because he kept me from mine. But I was never his, like it said in the vows. And he was never mine.”

“Did you want that?” When there were a few beats of seemingly impenetrable silence, Natasha spoke again. “Did you want a relationship like that?”

You scoffed, but it wasn't mocking, It was a sad sound, a sound that you wished you could have taken back the second it left you. “Not with him,” you scoffed again. “With someone else. As a girl, I always wanted to be married to someone who loved me, and someone I loved just as much. It was my dream, maybe even more than luxury was. I wanted love. Not true love, because everyone knows that doesn’t exist, but I wanted to fall asleep and wake with someone I could actually stand, someone that made me smile. He singlehandedly killed that dream. I don’t think it can ever be revived, but I also didn’t think that it could die a second time in the form of Brock Rumlow.”

“So you don’t like not having a choice, and a part of you is still holding onto the idea that you could find love?”

“I suppose that I said all that to say what you’ve said in a few words.” You admitted softly, looking at your hands that used to have calluses. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Natasha insisted, shaking her head slowly. “I asked for you to tell me. I was honored to get the whole story.”

You scoffed again, covering your arms with your hands as a gentle breeze blew. “You’re… you’re gentle with me.”

“Am I?”

She was. It was something that you thought about, and also tried not to think about. You often caught yourself watching her wield her sword and exercise and walk into the woods only to return hours later, and claim that she was on some soul searching hunt. The look in her eyes was always hungry, always challenging, always looking for something deeper. But there, in the night with you, she looked just as gentle and delicate as the flowers you were both surrounded by.

“You’re so fierce during the day, I see it. And I can see it brewing under your eyes, and I can hear it under your words. You’re not typically like this, are you?”

She waited a minute before she responded. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re not like this usually. It’s in your nature to be … harsh. This isn’t you.”

“It is,” she corrected. “But it’s not the way that most people deserve to see me.”

Your heart constricted. “And I deserve to see you this way?”

“I think you deserve a lot of things.” She answered vaguely, and you stopped your walking to take a look at her and her face of indifference. “I think you deserve more kindness than you receive. I think you never got it to begin with.”

“And you’re trying to make up for lost time?”

“I’m trying to let you know that the world isn’t out to crush your spirit,” she said, sounding slightly exasperated. “You’re so burnt out that you hardly even know it, you know? You’re so tired with the world and the people in it and the wicked ways of both that you don’t even realize that you only have two more inches of rope. You don’t realize that you’re burning both ends of your candle, and it’s horribly tragic. You could be so much happier, if you would just let yourself.”

Your mouth could have been shown shut at that moment. Your eyes were bugging out of your head, and you doubted that they were dry. Her words were nearing desperate, tone past begging. Did she truly care that much? It was so odd. Even odder, was she right?

“Both ends of a candle, huh?” You asked, the visual coming to rest in your mind and you nodded, trying your best to keep it together. “And if I was? What would you have me do?”

“I would have you go and sit alone by yourself, and find what truly makes you happy. The twins would be glad to help you. You don’t have to burn during the daytime when you’ve got a perfectly good sun working. Two of them.” You let out a small chuckle.

She was right. As brutish as she seemed, Natasha was proving herself to be correct over and over again. But your head was starting to pound, and you were close to tears again. You couldn’t let yourself cry in front of her.

Not yet.

“I think I’ll retire,” you said softly, voice flowing as gently as the breeze as you watched her nod her head. “Is there… is there anything you want to talk about?”

“I’ll save my backstory for the next time.”

“Next time,” you repeated, somehow, the words sounded foreign on your tongue. “Okay. I’ll be counting on it by the day,” you said, your voice a little too heavy to be a lighthearted tease, but she indulged you anyway.

“I’m sure you’ll hardly even make it to four.”

§§

Natasha was right, you hadn’t made it to four. Next time came in the form of two nights later, after you had cried your eyes out in your room for two days straight all by yourself, not even allowing Wanda in to come and dress you. Your eyes were puffy and your palms had little crescents indented in them from your nails digging in out of nerves and to distract you from the ache in your chest. The moon had barely finished rising in the sky when you trudged out of your room, gave four knocks on Natasha’s door and hoped that she would take the hint, and then took off towards the gardens.

While you waited, you couldn’t help but to watch the flowers sway in the breeze. The weather was constantly warm yet breezy in your region of the kingdom, and it had always been one of your favorite parts of living in Riverstone. The moonlight changed their colors, made them look somewhat eerie in the night as you waited by yourself for a knight that may or may not show.

“I assumed this was what four knocks were for,” Natasha’s voice mused from behind you, and you didn’t even jump. “I assume you don’t just want to-”

“Can you tell me about yourself?” You interrupted, glancing at her and giving her a dejected look that you didn’t even realize you were wearing. “Please?”

“Um, yeah,” Natasha muttered, and then she cleared her throat. Her blue eyes connected to yours while she started to tell her story. “I grew up in the slums, you know that. Near the castle, in the capitol.” You had assumed that much. “I grew up watching knights, and I realized that was what I wanted to be when I was young. And unfortunately for me, I never stop going after the things that I want.”

“That’s a gift,” you said, and she shook her head.

“It depends on the things that I want. More times than not, it’s a curse.” Her eyes trailed over to a rose that was working on blooming, and then back to you. “Two other kids I grew up with felt the same way, Steve and James, but he always went by “Bucky”. They’re older than me, but it felt like I was always looking out for them. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way. They’re knights now, they passed their quests.”

“That’s wonderful,” you said, and she nodded her head.

“They live together now, out in the country about a hundred leagues west of here.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “They- they live together?”

Just like that, Natasha’s almost carefree recollection of ehr memories was sliced through with an iron tone and a steely glare as she watched your expression, protecting her lifelong friends that weren’t even there to hear anything you could say. “Something wrong with that?”

“They- they could be killed for that,” you whispered, eyes fixated on her despite how mean she looked in the moment.

“That’s why they live in the country,” she muttered, turning her head away from you, and you could have sworn that she clenched her jaw in what looked like disappointment. “I didn’t think that you were the type to judge that.”

You weren’t. You were actually judged, especially after some people in the beginning of your stay at Riverstone started to believe that you were having an affair with Wanda. You weren’t, and Wanda was simply your best friend, but that didn’t stop you from realizing how harsh the world was. Sexuality was never your concern, seeing as you never had choices to act on whichever way your heart swayed anyway.

But you couldn't deny that you were getting nervous for the way your fickle little heart acted around Natasha.

“I’m not, I promise,” you said, and she gave you a long look. “I just… I just know that people have been hurt because of… the way that they love. It’s not right, but it happens.”

“And you?” Natasha asked, and you furrowed your brows. “Who do you love?” You knew that she wasn’t talking about a specific person. She was talking about sexuality.

Men. I love men. That was what you should have said, something along those lines and something concrete. It should have been something that would have convinced her and yourself that you were in the clear, that you loved the way society wanted you to. But instead, like Natasha always managed to, you opened your mouth and told the truth. “I don't know.”

You looked away before you could see the pure shock flood her face, and then the mask of understanding that collapsed it.

“It doesn’t matter who you love,” she said quietly, almost as if anything louder than a whisper would frighten you back into being reserved. “Only how you do it.”

“I’m not sure that priests feel the same way,” you muttered, and she snorted a bit. The sound coming from a woman both shocked you and made you grin.

“Those same priests abuse children. It’s safe to say that I have no cares for anything they have to say about me and my lifestyle.” You sucked in a breath at that and looked towards her, eyes wide as you waited for her to say something else so terribly true but all you looked over to find was a knowing smile on her face as she looked right back at you, painstakingly gorgeous. Your breathing stopped for a moment.

“And you?” You dared to ask, but your boldness was erased by the way that your voice trembled. She gave you a look that attempted to convince you that she knew nothing of what you were talking about, but the glint in her eyes gave her away. “Your… preference.”

“I hope my lack of answer keeps you up all night,” she said, and she turned her back to you abruptly, starting to walk away. You sputtered until you could find words.

“Wait, what?” You reached out to grab her, warm hand wrapping around the cold skin of her arm, and she turned her head to look at you, face so close that you got nervous. Your eyes drifted downwards, and then back just as quickly. Your heart raced in your chest when you thought about her leaving you behind by yourself in the garden, and then it ached again when you really understood what your panic was about. You didn’t want to be without her, being alone didn’t bother you any other time. “What made you want to be a knight?” You asked out of nowhere, and you saw her face scrunch up. “If it’s not too much to ask to know.”

“I… it’s not much. I didn’t see anything heroic or watch anyone be saved. There was no knight that saved me either, no knight that I looked up to. In fact, I was the one out of the three of us who wanted to be a knight first,” she said, and you leaned forward, almost like it would make her point come faster. “I read a story… you know the one about Sir Yuriel and Lady Selene?”

You blinked. Of course you did. Everyone knew that story. It was a common one that was read to children right before bed, about a time where the crime for falling in love with someone who wasn’t your intended was punishable by death. “The one where they run away from the people trying to kill him together?”

“Yes,” Natasha said, and you furrowed your brows. It was hardly a positive story. It was a story drilled into young minds about the dangers of not doing what they were told to do, and what could happen if they chose to carve their own paths.

“The knight dies at the end,” you pointed out.

“He dies protecting her,” she corrected, but you just shook your head at her.

“Regardless, he died. Why would you want to die?”

“I don’t want to die,” she said, and you waited for the other part of her answer. “I want to do what he did, but better. As bad as I might still seem to you, I’m still a girl. And I want to love someone so much that I would give everything for them, and I want them to love me back enough for them to give up all the riches that Selene did. Just like you.”

You ignored the pang in your chest at her accuracy, and the knowing look in her deep eyes. “Oh, so you’re a liberator? You save women from unfortunate circumstances?”

“More like I just hate seeing things that are blatantly wrong, and I like to fix them.”

“Then you’re in the wrong profession. You should have tried for a king’s associate.”

“The people who are the true menaces listen to swords, not dried ink.” She patted her hip, right where the hilt of her sword would have been if she was in her armor. “I’m right where I need to be.”

“In the middle of the garden of a widower, who cries herself to sleep every night after learning that she’s to be wed again?” You asked, and somehow, despite the severity of your words, there was a teasing lilt to your tone.

“I think we’re both right where we need to be.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be something? If the stars lined up kindly for a change.” You couldn’t hold back your scoff. “I’d get on my knees and pray for the first time in years.”

Natasha stared at you for a long moment, her eyes calculating something that was completely lost to you as you crossed your arms and looked right back at her, a quiet and tension free challenge hanging in the air between you. “Have you ever even watched the stars to see if they aligned?”

“I don’t have the time or the spirit for that,” you said, a small laugh edging out the hardness in your voice.

“Interesting.”

§§

You had a day full of Pietro, an evening just sitting and talking mindlessly with Wanda, and then you got a sharp round of knocks on your door, and though you had never gotten them before, you knew exactly what they meant.

Natasha was waiting for you, and the sight of her had you nearly choking. She was in a flowy white gown, the material so thin that it could have been a night gown. Her hair that was typically up during the day was down, and the Riverstone breeze was as evident as ever as she stared back at you, either waiting for an action or a few words to come from you. However, the second you opened your mouth, she shook her head.

“Not a word. We’re stargazing tonight.”

The part of you that was beaten into being mature was immediately turned off by the idea. Stargazing was something that you hadn’t done since childhood, and being a child never got you anywhere you needed to be. But the other part of you, the one that had been buried in dust just like your hands from that time had been covered in mud, wanted to do it. It both excited you and terrified you, because not even Wanda could make that part of you surface, not like how it was then.

You knew, without a doubt, that it had everything to do with Natasha Romanoff.

You pretended to debate,but on the inside, you were already giving the stars love-eyes. “Let’s do it, then.”

It lasted for hours. Mostly, the two of you were silent, but that hardly meant that the two of you weren’t bonding. Every so often, she would turn her head to look over at you, and you would ignore the electrifying feeling of her blue eyes on the side of the face, vision fluttering all around your face. And then, you would look at her the same way, studying her like your former etiquette teachers would stare at your sewing and your posture. You found that with her being so close, you couldn’t deprive your eyes of watching her.

But when you weren’t looking at her for your own benefit or looking at her watching you, you were watching the stars. You laid under the arch of the gardens with her, a few petals blocking the way of a few distant stars. It felt… right. It felt natural, with the silence and all, and above anything, it just felt peaceful. You forgot everything that was troubling you within minutes of just lying there next to her. Feeling the warmth of her skin and the security of her being near was worth more than a thousand words, and you found that in that moment, sitting in silence with her and looking at the stars that had screwed you over so terribly was one of the best decisions that you had ever made.

*****

hi guys! hope you liked this installment!! it’s about to be really fluffy and then we’ll get into what i like the most: drama wjjdjjdjdjx

question!!: i have about 13k worth of hades!natasha x persephone!reader in the vault. would you rather me start posting it now or wait for this series to be finished? we’re getting there with this one, ish.

tags! : @teenwonder @procrastinatingsapphictrash @fayhar @8plasma @slut-for-nat @dontmindmejustreading @swords-are-cool @200605chaeng @thescottishavenger @antidaytime @jenny-song @madamevirgo @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife

#marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #my fics #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #marvel au #lgbtq #lgbt marvel #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanov x reader #natasha fluff

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esperantoauthor · 3 years

Text

Follower Celebration Fic!

@blaineandersimp and @porcelain-nightbird requested a BadBoy!Kurt story so here you go! Thank you to all of my lovely followers, this is for you! I hope you enjoy it!

Title: Full Service Author: Esperanto Length: 2,700 words

Summary: When Blaine's car breaks down, he finds himself being rescued by a very snarky mechanic.

Read it below the cut or on Ao3

There was a strange thunk from below followed by the insistent hum of the tire pressure warning turning on. Blaine cursed and pulled his car off the road. He took a moment to stare out into the half-darkness of the late summer evening. He wished, futilely, that the tire would just… be okay. That he could close his eyes and when he opened them, the yellow light would turn off and he could drive the rest of the way home.

When he opened his eyes, nothing had changed. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and discovered that there was no service on this particular back road. This is what he got for avoiding the highway.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hitting the wheel with the palm of his hand in frustration.

He mashed his finger against the dashboard, turning on the hazard lights, and then killed the engine.

He was seriously regretting not letting his dad teach him how to change a tire.

He took a deep breath. He needed a plan.

Lights flashed in his peripheral vision and he looked over his shoulder to see that a car was pulling up behind him.

He was pretty sure he had seen an episode of Bones that started exactly like this. But this might be his only chance at getting help. He swallowed thickly.

Someone was getting out of the car. It was large and black. He watched in his rearview mirror as the dark figure approach his car. Blaine still flinched when they rapped on the glass of the driver side window.

Letting out a shaky breath, Blaine rolled down the window.

A pale-faced boy with cold, blue eyes stared back at him. He seemed to be appraising Blaine. Taking in his mandated blazer and tie, his carefully gelled down hair. The boy smirked slightly and then rested his elbows on the frame of the open window, bringing his face even closer to Blaine’s.

“You have a flat tire.”

“I’m aware.”

“Well, that’s something at least.”

“Did you just pull over to mock me?”

“No, but I can’t deny it’s becoming an increasingly appealing temptation.”

Blaine let out a small grunt of frustration.

“What, Daddy never taught you how to change a tire?”

Blaine’s jaw dropped at how close to home this stranger had just hit.

The boy seemed to realize he had struck a nerve. Tone a modicum less harsh, the boy added, “Well mine owns a tire shop. He just locked up but lucky for you, I have the key. Why don’t we get your spare on and then you can follow me back to the shop to get a new tire put on?”

“Or you can just put the spare on and I’ll drive back to Westerville before I miss curfew,” Blaine countered. He checked his watch. If the boy could get his tire changed in the next thirty minutes he would just barely make it back to the dorm in time.

“Westerville? Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not driving all the way to Westerville on a spare tire.”

Blaine scowled.

The boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever, it’s your life. If you want to roll the dice it’s no skin off my teeth. Just don’t expect me to come bail you out a second time. Come on, pop the trunk.”

Blaine pulled the lever to release the trunk and then followed the boy around to the back of his car. Now that he was out of the vehicle, he could take in more of his strange savior’s appearance. He was dressed in black from head to toe with metal studs pressed into the cuffs of his black denim jacket and the cartilage of his ears. He was also unexpectedly, upsettingly pretty.

The boy was pulling a large metal device out of his trunk that Blaine hadn’t even been aware was in there. Then, suddenly, he began dumping the contents of Blaine’s trunk out onto the dirt.

“Hey!” Blaine shouted in protest.

The boy paused his reign of destruction and gave Blaine a scathing look.

“You’re… you can’t just put my stuff on the ground!” Blaine knew that his voice was pitching embarrassingly high but he felt suddenly vulnerable with his fate in the hands of this stranger.

“I’m sorry I don’t have an ivory pedestal upon which to put his majesty’s things,” the boy drawled.

Yep, the boy had definitely sized him up and passed his judgement already. Blaine loved his uniform but it sure did lead to a lot of assumptions.

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable not to want my personal possessions on the ground. Just… if you give me a minute I will clear out the trunk and put them in the back seat.”

The boy took a step back, palms out in resignation. “Whatever, I thought you were in a hurry, man.”

Exasperated, Blaine quickly gathered his shoes and backpack off the dirt and carefully set them into the backseat of his car. As he began shifting the rest of his items, his curiosity got the better of him.

“Why do you need me to clear out the trunk anyways?”

“Where did you think your spare tire was exactly?” he spit back.

“I… I guess I never really thought about it.”

The boy muttered something indecipherable under his breath but Blaine would have bet good money that it wasn’t complimentary.

When the trunk was cleared out, the boy pulled some invisible handle and the entire bottom of the trunk lifted up, revealing a spare tire. The boy’s eyes sparkled with triumph.

“Time to jack!” he declared.

Blaine let out an undistinguished snort.

“The car, Pretty Boy, not your dick.”

Blaine turned very red and began coughing so violently that he had to step away from the car. He could hear the boy cackling with laughter, clearly very pleased with himself.

“Alright, stop being such a prude I need you to give me a hand for a minute.”

Blaine took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to compose himself.

He crouched down next to the boy, admiring the way that the car was now a good foot off of the ground, lifted up by the large metal contraption the boy had found in Blaine’s trunk. The boy was expertly undoing the large metal bolts that attached his wheel to the car.

“Hold out your hand,” he instructed.

Blaine did as instructed and after a few more turns, the first bolt came loose. The boy set it in Blaine’s hand. “Don’t you dare lose those,” he warned.

“I’m Blaine, by the way.” They were crouching inches apart. Blaine felt like he should at least know the boy’s name.

“Huh. I’m Kurt.”

“Thank you for helping me out, Kurt. You didn’t have to do any of this. You could have just driven past me. Really, I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Kurt tutted. “Whatever. I can’t just let idiots flounder. It’s my only personality flaw.”

“Well, I guess mine is that I never learned how to change a tire.”

“Yours is worse,” Kurt said scathingly but when Blaine looked up he saw that the boy was smiling.

“Hand,” Kurt prompted as he loosened the next screw.

The tips of his fingers were warm against the palm of Blaine’s hand. It sent a shiver down his spine.

—

By the time Blaine made it back to the tire shop, darkness had fully settled over the city of Lima and his curfew was dead in the water.

Kurt switched on the lights and they turned on one at a time, until the whole shop was lit up. It was a nice shop, Blaine had to admit. Everything was well organized and gleamingly clean. Kurt looked out of place with his torn jeans and his navy blue eyeliner.

“If you don’t want to get grease on your uniform you should either stand back or put on some of those, Prep School.” Kurt pointed to a row coveralls hung on hooks.

“I told you my name, Kurt. Why do you insist on calling me stuff like that?”

“Oh so you don’t go to prep school?”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Blaine countered, frustration beginning to rise.

Kurt narrowed his eyes and then laughed. “You’ve got me there. I don’t realize you would be so touchy about it, Blaine.”

“I’m not I just… well, maybe I am. I’m more than just a rich prep schooler with no functional skills, okay?”

“Okay. Then what are you, pray tell?” Kurt asked with a mischievous grin.

There was a loud sound as the spare tire dropped to the floor. Kurt regarded it with satisfaction and then wiped a drop of sweat from his brow, leaving a smudge of grease in its wake.

He moved the spare tire aside and then looked at Blaine expectantly.

“I… I don’t know…” It came out hushed and pathetic.

“Oh, so you’re normal. Well, that’s a relief.”

When Blaine looked at him, Kurt was actually smiling.

“Not normal enough for my dad to teach me to change a tire apparently,” he muttered to himself.

Kurt must have heard him because his eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you mean, not normal enough?”

“Oh you mean you couldn’t figure that out from one look at me? Your system might be flawed there, Kurt.” Blaine couldn’t resist the opportunity to seize the upper hand back from Kurt in this conversation.

Kurt, it transpired, was unflappable. With a shrug, he simply agreed. “Might be. Maybe I’ll plug my brain into the diagnostics computer after I make sure your car doesn’t have any other problems. So why aren’t you normal, Blaine? Besides being a rich idiot.”

“Too gay to be normal.” It came out strained despite Blaine’s best attempts to sound breezy.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Blaine felt his eyebrows raise.

Kurt smirked in response.

“Well, I guess my dad was wrong. Being gay has nothing to do with your ability to fix cars.”

“Clearly,” Kurt said with a grin. “We have the same brand of tire as what’s on your car. Do you want me to just match the tire or did you want something cheaper?”

Blaine pulled out his wallet and frowned as he paged through the bills. "I only have fifty bucks.”

“Yeah, well that’s not going to cover a Michelin tire, my friend.”

“Can I get you the rest this weekend?” he asked, biting his lip nervously.

“You promise you’ll come back?” Kurt asked, raising a single eyebrow.

“Yes! I promise.”

“Hmm… I would need your phone number so I can harass you if you don’t show.”

“I’ll show! I may not know what I am but I know I’m reliable. And we’ve already established that I’m a rich idiot so you know I can pay. Please,” he whined, giving Kurt the full force of his puppy dog eyes.

Kurt turned slightly pink and took a step backwards. “Well, those are probably in violation of the Geneva convention or something,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely towards Blaine’s face. “Yes, fine. You’ve convinced me. Now stop making that face, for the love of God.”

Blaine grinned in triumph.

Kurt disappeared into the back room to locate Blaine’s new tire. Blaine checked his watch and realized that if he didn’t call in soon his parents were going to get a message from the school saying that he hadn’t signed back in.

Kurt reemerged, expertly rolling a large tire over the concrete floor, humming to himself. Blaine pointed to his cell phone and then stepped over to the side of the garage to call his parents.

“Look, Dad, I don’t know what you wanted me to do!”

…

“Well I couldn’t call triple A because there wasn’t any cell service!”

Blaine began to pace.

“Well, I didn’t get murdered, actually. A very nice boy is almost done changing my tire.”

…

“No, he didn’t overcharge me. And you should really reconsider giving me an emergency credit card because I didn’t even have enough cash to cover it and if he hadn’t…”

…

“Look, I’m sorry I don’t know what else you want me to say. Are you going to call Dalton or not?”

…

“Okay. Well, thank you.”

Blaine hung up and then bitterly added, “For nothing.”

He looked up to see that Kurt was openly staring. Blaine let out a sigh and put his face into his hands.

“Um, are you okay?” A hand hesitantly rested on his shoulder. Blaine looked up to see that Kurt was standing next to him now.

Blaine rubbed his eyes and then nodded. “Fine.”

“So, your dad kind of sucks, huh?”

Blaine nodded again.

“Sorry about that,” Kurt said softly.

Blaine looked at him in surprise.

“What? I’m not a complete asshole. Just like… most of the time. Besides, I’ve heard gay guys love assholes so…”

A fit of laughter overtook Blaine. It was loud and uncontrolled. After a moment of stunned silence, Kurt joined in. They cackled and guffawed until they could barely hold themselves upright. Blaine laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his cheeks, or maybe the tears were from something else, but the release felt good regardless. Blaine had to lean against the wall to stop himself from collapsing and Kurt had to lean against Blaine for the same reason. Kurt dipped, nearly falling over, but Blaine managed to wrap and arm around his waist fast enough to keep him upright.

“Woah, there!” he said, still cackling.

For some reason, that only made Kurt laugh even harder. He clutched at Blaine’s blazer and pressed his face into his chest to muffle the laughter. Blaine felt his whole body grow warm. He didn’t drop the arm that was around Kurt’s waist.

Kurt lifted his head and suddenly they were nose to nose.

Blaine realized neither of them was laughing any more.

He felt the warm breath from Kurt’s exhalations on his cheek. Kurt smelled like honey. Blaine reached up and wiped the smudge of grease from the side of his cheek. Kurt let out a barely perceptible gasp.

“If I kiss you will you still pay me for the tire?” Kurt whispered.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to?” Kurt whispered again.

“Yes.”

The wall was pushing into his back and his hand was somehow on Kurt’s neck now and then hot, warm, wet. Blaine groaned into the kiss, pulling Kurt’s face closer, still not remembering how exactly he came to be pressed up against the wall but very glad that he was. He felt like his whole body was melting and if not for the insistent pressure of Kurt keeping him upright against the wall, he would be goo on the floor right now.

Kurt wrapped one of his legs around Blaine’s and holy fucking shit Blaine had to grab the back of his thigh to keep him from falling over. Once they were stabilized, Blaine felt himself sink back into the kiss, letting Kurt be in control. Letting himself be pressed into the wall by Kurt’s firm chest and insistent hands.

Kurt’s tongue brushed against his and he felt his knees actually start to go weak.

Then suddenly he could breathe again, ragged gasping breaths. Kurt didn’t sound any better.

The stared at each other in silence.

“Wow, the sign wasn’t kidding about full-service,” Blaine joked.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Please, the rest of our customers wish they were so lucky.”

“Oh, so you mean you don’t make-out with all of your customers?”

“Considering that most of them are over the age of forty, consider us both relieved.”

Blaine let out a reluctant sigh. “I really do need to get home. My dad’s only going to get madder the later I make it back, and he’s already pretty furious.”

“Well, I’ll see you next weekend then.”

“Kurt, are you asking me out on a date?”

“What? No, I… you said you would be back to pay for the tire, so I just…”

“Too bad,” Blaine replied with a wicked smile. He scooped his keys up off the table, leaving Kurt utterly gobsmacked. He hopped into his car and started the engine.

Kurt rapped on the window of his car. Blaine cooperated and rolled down the window.

“You are very frustrating, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Sure, my parents tell me that every day.”

Kurt looked sad for a moment. Then his smile returned and he reached through the window to put his hand on top of Blaine’s on the wheel.

“You know, you can pay me back for the tire anywhere. It doesn’t have to be here.”

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

“Breadstix? 10am? They have all-you-can-eat pancakes.”

Blaine grinned.

“It’s a date.”

#full service #my fic #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #300 followers #follower celebration #mechanic!Kurt #badboy!Kurt #fluff and humor #I will confess I only read this through once after I finished so hopefully there aren't too many typos #I'll probably throw this up on ao3 at some point

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expectingtofly · 3 years

Text

Sign Here

AU-Modern Setting, Meet-Cute, Dean is a UPS Driver, Cas and Dean are idiots, Gabe is trying to help

4k (oops this fic got long)

also posted on ao3

written for Day 2 of @starrynightdeancas 2k Followers Celebration <3 <3

Castiel knelt on the grass to pull up some stubborn weeds in the garden lining the front of his newly-bought house. The previous inhabitants had left behind a tangled mess of rose bushes and weeds, and after a week of unpacking boxes, he was happy to finally have time to spend outside. One of the perks of moving from an apartment to a small bungalow—finally space for a garden. Although, he was sure the inside of his house would soon become just as packed with plants as his apartment had been.

Engrossed as he was in weeding and planning what flowers he would plant to expand the garden, he didn’t hear someone approach until a shadow fell over the dirt.

Startling, he looked up to see a man standing on the walkway next to him. “What—oh.” By the man’s clothes—brown collared shirt and shorts—and the package he was holding, Castiel realized he was a UPS delivery driver. “Hello.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the driver said, fighting back a smile.

Castiel stood, brushing dirt off his hands. “It’s alright.”

The man held out a package. “I was gonna deliver this to your front door, unless you want to take it now.”

“Yes, thank you.” Taking it, Castiel looked down at the label, trying to remember what he had ordered. Something for his kitchen, probably.

“Did you just move in?” the UPS driver asked. His eyes were very green, a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Freckles everywhere, Castiel realized, seeing the way they lightly spotted his bare arms. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

Realizing he was staring, Castiel reddened, glanced down at the package in his hands. “Uh, yes, I did. Last week.”

“Welcome to Bloomfield, then.” He nodded at the rose bushes. “Nice garden you got here.”

“You don’t have to lie, it’s a mess.” The driver laughed and Castiel smiled a little. “It’s not much now. Hopefully I’ll be able to fix it up soon.”

“I’ll keep an eye out, see how things develop.” The man took a step back and gestured to the UPS truck on the street. “I’ve got other packages to deliver. Nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Castiel said, watching him leave. Kneeling down to continue yanking out the prickly weeds, he smiled. It was nice to meet someone friendly; he hadn’t gotten to meet many people yet with the chaos of moving in. Of course, he thought, glancing back at the UPS truck as it rumbled down the street, it didn’t hurt that the driver was extremely attractive as well.

***

The next week, Castiel was hanging up art prints in his living room when he heard the doorbell ring. Assuming it was for a package he’d ordered, he took his time getting to the door, straightening the print on the wall before weaving through the cardboard boxes he still hadn’t unpacked.

When he opened the front door, however, he was surprised to see the green-eyed UPS driver standing on his porch holding the package.

The man’s face brightened. “Hi. Got a delivery for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, opening the door wider. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I thought you delivery drivers just dropped off the package and disappeared.”

The UPS driver laughed. Such a nice laugh, Castiel thought. “Right, yeah, that’s what we normally do. But, uh, we have a new policy. Have to get a signature for packages.” He handed over a clipboard and pen, pointing to the line at the bottom of the page. "Just sign here."

“Oh. Alright.” Castiel took the clipboard and signed his name. When he handed it back, he saw the man glance at the signature. “Castiel,” he supplied.

“Cool name. I’m Dean.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean.” Having been occupied all week with moving in and subsequently starved for conversation, he added, “You’re one of the first people I’ve met so far. The other being a cashier at that grocery store down the street.”

“Still getting settled in?”

“Yes. It’s taking much longer than I anticipated. I hate unpacking. It never seems to end.”

“Yeah, moving’s a bitch. You liking the place so far, though?”

Castiel nodded. “I do. Much improved from the apartment where I was living before.”

“God, I bet. I share an apartment with my brother—don’t get me wrong, I like living with him, but our landlord’s an asshole.” He gestured to the right. “Garden’s looking great.”

“Thank you. I just bought petunias, but I haven’t had a chance to plant them.” He pointed at the small brown box Dean was still holding. “That should be new gardening gloves in there.”

“Oh, right, your package.” Dean’s face looked a little red as he handed the box over. “Um, well, I should be on my way. See ya.” He stepped off the porch with a wave and Castiel waved back before going inside.

As he unpacked his belongings, he realized filling a house was harder than he’d thought. There were so many household items he was missing. Perhaps a trip to the store would be faster, but ordering online was easier—or so he told himself as he opened his laptop.

I’m only trying to save myself time, he reasoned, though inwardly he might have been hoping Dean would deliver the package.

Though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he found himself growing more impatient over the next few days. Then, one afternoon as he organized his silverware drawer, he heard the doorbell ring. He practically ran to the front door, then paused and steadied himself before opening it, waiting a few seconds so it wouldn’t seem like he’d rushed over.

It might not even be Dean, he chastised himself as he unlocked the door.

Dean smiled at him when he swung the door wide.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, trying to sound casual and hide his smile.

“Hi.” He looked to be about Castiel’s age. What were the chances that someone this attractive was single? “Got another package. A heavy one this time.”

Pushing away those thoughts, Castiel took it from him and placed it inside on the floor. “Thank you. Don’t I have to sign something?”

“Uh, shit, yeah.” Dean handed over the clipboard and pen, and as Castiel signed, he nodded at the package. “Something else for the garden?”

Castiel shook his head, handing back the clipboard. “A mixer. I thought maybe I could try my hand at baking. My mom sent me a few of her recipes.”

Dean’s eyes brightened. “You ever want inspiration, there’s a diner, other side of town, a few blocks from where I live, that makes the best pie. Makes them fresh every morning.”

“I’ll have to go sometime.” He stopped short of saying that maybe he’d see Dean there, not wanting to sound too excited at the prospect.

Maybe I should order more things for the kitchen, he thought, shutting the door after saying goodbye to Dean. Or a new bath mat, and curtains, maybe. The boxes he had yet to unpack scolded him by their presence, but he ignored them. If receiving new items meant talking to a friendly face, who could blame him?

***

“You sure get a lot of packages,” Dean remarked the next week when Castiel opened the door.

Castiel reddened. “Turns out it’s hard to fill a whole house.”

“I’m not complaining, you’re the one giving me a job to do.” Dean handed over the package. “What’s it this week?”

“A watering can.”

“You really like to garden, don’t you?” Dean gestured to the flowers and plants lining the front of the house. “I mean, you’ve added a lot since moving in.”

“Yes, well, I find it’s a wonderful way to wind down after work.”

Dean nodded. “I get that. Any spare time I have, I work on my car.”

Castiel glanced at the UPS truck, because he hadn’t really considered Dean driving anything else. His heart beat a little faster at the thought of running into Dean somewhere else, at the diner, at the grocery store. He wondered how Dean dressed when he wasn’t in his uniform, what else he did in his free time.

Dean followed his gaze to the street and gestured to the UPS truck. “This thing, it’s crap. No AC, no radio. What do you drive?” He glanced at Castiel’s driveway. “That a Lincoln Continental? 78? 77?”

Castiel caught the derisive tone in his voice. “78. And I like it,” he added defensively.

Dean smiled, raising his hands. “Eye of the beholder, I guess. You ever need work done on it, let me know, I can help.” His eyes widened a little at his own words. “I mean, you don’t need to, I just meant, if you want. I’m good at that stuff.”

“Thank you, Dean. I appreciate the offer.” Inwardly, he cursed his car for being so reliable. Maybe the engine light would turn on and he could take him up on his offer. Or maybe Dean was only being friendly and didn’t really mean it.

When Dean headed back to his truck and Castiel shut the door, he realized Dean hadn’t asked him to sign anything. Maybe he’d only forgotten.

***

“Gotten acquainted with the locals?” Gabriel asked a few nights later when he called to see how Castiel was settling in.

“I talked with one of my neighbors yesterday. Arla. She’s eighty-two and owns three cats.” Leaning against the kitchen counter, Castiel glanced at the mixer. “And, uh, I did meet someone else. Someone my age, not a neighbor. Dean.”

“Met someone? Like went on a date with—”

“No, he works for the UPS, he’s been delivering my packages.” He was interrupted by Gabriel laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“So instead of going out and meeting real people, you’re making friends with the delivery guy.”

“Dean is real,” Castiel protested. “He’s very kind and friendly. And helpful. He’s told me about places to check out in town and complimented my garden—”

“Damn, Cas, sounds like you really like this guy.”

“No, he’s just a nice person,” Castiel insisted. By Gabriel’s laughter, he knew he wasn’t being believable. “Alright, fine. I enjoy talking to him.” He wasn’t going to tell Gabriel that seeing Dean was becoming his favorite part of the week.

“He single?”

“Um. Yes.” He may or may not have asked Arla if she knew Dean, and may or may not have learned that she couldn’t believe “a charming young man like him is still single.” Oh, and that if she were a younger woman, she would be ordering packages left and right to flirt with him when he delivered. Castiel did not appreciate that last part, even if Arla had no idea how close to the truth she’d struck. I’m not flirting, he argued inwardly.

“Well, are you going to make a move or not?” When Castiel didn’t respond right away, Gabriel added, “Right, I forgot who I’m talking to.”

“I might,” Castiel protested. “But we only just met. And I don’t even know if he likes me. He’s only doing his job.”

“May as well ask him out, see what he says.”

Castiel sighed. “I don’t want to rush into anything. I only just moved here.”

“Well, you snooze, you lose, Cas. Don’t miss out on something just because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!”

I’m not scared, he repeated to himself when he said goodbye and hung up the phone. He was being reasonable. But maybe Gabriel was right. Dean had to be somewhat interested—delivery guys didn’t just stick around to talk after delivering a package. Maybe he’d test the waters, try to see if Dean was truly interested or just being friendly.

***

A few days later, he was watering his petunias when Dean got out of his truck with another package.

“Hey, Cas!” he called.

“Hello, Dean.” Setting down his water can, he wiped his hands on his jeans. “Thank you,” he said, taking the narrow box from Dean. Before he lost his courage, he spoke up, “I, um, made a pie this morning.” Whether he’d made it specifically to offer to Dean was something he’d never admit to anyone, much less himself. “I was wondering if you wanted a slice? You can tell me if it’s good or not.”

Dean broke into a grin. “Shit, Cas, really? Yeah, thanks.”

“Wait here, I’ll grab it.”

When he returned to the doorway with a paper plate covered in foil, he caught Dean looking inside his house.

“It’s still a mess in here,” Castiel said, handing the plate over. “I’ve been kinda busy with work.”

“No, yeah, totally, no judgement.” He peeled back the foil and inhaled. “Fuck, I’m starving. This looks amazing.” Picking up the slice, he took a bite. “Mmm,” he said, rolling his eyes back.

“Good?” Castiel asked, amused.

“So good,” Dean said, his voice muffled. He swallowed. “You’re a natural.”

“Thank you. I have more, if you’d like it.”

“Don’t tempt me. Yes.”

Grinning, Castiel went back inside and packaged up two more slices, brought them to Dean.

“You’re an angel,” Dean said. “Seriously.” He juggled the plates in his hands. “So, where do you work?”

Castiel leaned on the doorway. “I work here. I’m an editor. I do freelance work.”

“Dude, that’s cool. Nice that you get to work from home.” Looking down at his watch, he swore quietly. “Sorry, I need to keep moving. I’ve got a lot of deliveries today.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, disappointed, straightening. “Alright. Sorry for keeping you so long.”

“No problem, this was a nice break.” He stepped off the walkway. “Thanks for the pie.”

“You’re welcome.” Ask him for his number. Ask him if he would like to go out. But he kept quiet and watched Dean cross the yard back to his truck.

***

That night, Castiel ordered a set of bookends shaped like trees. He checked his email the next few days, tracking the package. On the day it was to be delivered, he had to run errands and got stuck in traffic. When he pulled into his driveway, he saw a package sitting on the front porch. Shit. He’d missed Dean.

Grabbing his bag of groceries, he walked over and picked up the package with his free hand. Then he noticed a note taped to the top.

Sorry I missed you, it read. The pie was incredible.

Castiel smiled.

***

Sunlight streamed through his living room windows as Castiel organized his books on his bookshelves. He was just pushing his new bookends into place when the doorbell rang. Frowning, he went to the front door and looked out through the window. Dean?

“Hello, Dean,” he said, opening the door. “I wasn’t expecting a package today.”

“Oh, really?” Dean looked like he was fighting back a smile as he turned around the cardboard box in his hands. Bold black letters were written across the front: SAY HI TO DEAN FOR ME.

Castiel’s eyes widened and he snatched the box out of Dean’s hands. “What? I don’t know how—” He scanned the box for the label. Gabriel, he realized. “It’s my brother,” he explained. “I was telling him about you, he must’ve sent me this to embarrass me, I’m so sorry.”

Dean’s smile won out. “No, it’s fine, that’s kinda hilarious.” He shifted his stance, the wooden porch boards creaking. “You, uh, you told him about me?”

Castiel’s head snapped up from glaring at Gabe’s name on the return label. “Um, yes,” he faltered. “Well, I was just telling him that I met someone, and it’s been nice to, uh, uh, have a friend.”

Friend? He hardly knew Dean, for fuck’s sake. For all he knew, he was just a random person Dean spoke to occasionally on his route, no more important than Arla or any of the other people he delivered to.

But Dean smiled. “Yeah, uh, me too. I mean, I like meeting people on my route, just makes the day a lot better when I get to stop and talk.” He reddened a little and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at his boots.

“I hope I don’t keep you from your other deliveries,” Castiel said.

Dean waved his hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I get the other ones done fast so I can spend more time here.” He cut himself off and reddened even further, as if realizing what he was admitting.

So, Dean was deliberately trying to see him, talk to him. Castiel felt his face heat up as well. “I’m sure delivering packages all day can be very boring,” he offered.

Dean nodded quickly. “Yeah, ya know, it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Besides, I’m just trying to make sure this neighborhood’s newest resident is doing okay.” He grinned. “Think of me as the welcome committee.”

“Well, I appreciate it. Really.”

Dean nodded again, and they stood there awkwardly for a few long moments. Castiel glanced back down at the box, Gabe’s words ringing in his head. Ask him out, see what he says.

“I’ll get on my way,” Dean said, stepping back. He smiled a little. “Tell your brother I said hi.”

“I will.” Maybe he should just blurt it out. Dean had said he enjoyed stopping by here. But maybe he only meant that in a friendly way. Castiel had called him a friend, after all. He chickened out. “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.” Dean walked away and Castiel glared down at the box.

“Not helpful,” he told it.

***

“Gabe, I hate you.”

“What? I was just trying to spark conversation between you two—”

“I hate you. I can hold a conversation well enough myself, thank you very much. You only made things awkward.” He paused before adding, “Dean says hi, by the way.”

Gabriel cheered and Castiel pulled his phone away from his ear. “So it worked? You asked him out?”

“Um...” Castiel pulled at a rip on his gardening jeans. “No.”

“Cassie!” Gabriel whined. “I did all that work for nothing? What’s the holdup? Ask him out.”

Castiel groaned. “I will. Eventually. But, I mean, can he even say yes? He’s on the job—”

“Cas, he’s already taking time out of his workday to talk to you. Pretty sure he’ll say yes, even if he’s working. Stop making excuses.”

“Fine. I’ll ask him.” He only said it to get Gabriel off his back, but his palms grew sweaty even thinking about it.

“You better. Keep me updated.”

“Only if you never pull a prank like that again.”

“I can’t promise anything.”

***

Seated at his desk, Castiel frowned at an awkwardly worded sentence that refused to form itself into any coherency. Was the past tense of lie lay or laid? Why couldn’t he ever remember?

The doorbell ringing drew his attention and, grateful for the break, he saved the document he was editing and got up. Going to the front door, he wondered if he had any left-over pie to give Dean and drag out their time together in the doorway.

Opening the door, he began to say hello, then paused. A UPS delivery man was walking away to his truck, a package at Castiel’s feet on his front porch.

“Wait!” Castiel called, stepping outside. The man turned—not Dean. Someone he’d never seen before. “Who the hell are you?”

The man looked startled. “I, uh, I’m a delivery—”

“No, sorry.” Castiel flushed. “Where’s Dean?”

“Dean?” The man frowned. “I don’t know who that is. We all got new routes a few days ago. He must be on another route now.”

Castiel’s heart sank. “Oh.” Another route? He looked down at the package. “Don’t I have to sign something?”

“No, you’re all good. We don’t require signatures.” The man continued to his truck and Castiel picked up the package. A lattice pastry roller to make more intricate pie crusts. He’d thought Dean might appreciate the effort.

Shutting the door, he stood in the foyer for a moment. So, Dean was gone. Why hadn’t he ever asked for Dean’s number? He’d had plenty of opportunities.

It’s a small town, he reasoned. I’ll see him again, I have to. He knew Dean lived on the other side of town, maybe if he drove around there, kept an eye out—

Alright, stop, he told himself. He was starting to sound crazy. He dropped the package off on the kitchen table. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

***

The next day, Castiel was seated at his desk, sending an email to a client, when the doorbell rang.

His pulse sped up, and instinctively he rose from his chair. Then he remembered that Dean didn’t deliver to his house anymore. Sighing, he sat back down.

He’d been trying not to think of it, but every other item in his house—the mixer, the bookends, the pastry roller—only reminded him of Dean and brought down his mood.

Why didn’t I take Gabe’s advice? he bemoaned inwardly. That was a thought he never thought he’d have, but it looked like Gabe had been right. He’d lost his chance.

Staring at his computer screen, he tried to focus on his work, but the distraction had ruined his focus. At least I’ll save money, he reasoned ruefully, now that he had no excuse for making random purchases.

The doorbell rang again and he lifted his head, frowning. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember ordering anything. Maybe it was Arla, coming over to say hello.

Rising, he went to the front door and tried to remember the name of that diner Dean had told him about. Maybe he’d stake out there on a weekend, see if Dean showed up. Or was that creepy?

Definitely creepy, he decided with a sigh, opening the door. Then he froze.

“Dean?”

Standing on his front porch—this time in jeans and a black t-shirt, holding a potted fern—was Dean. He smiled hesitantly, almost nervously. “Hi, Cas.”

“What are you doing here?” Castiel looked at the street, but of course the familiar UPS truck wasn’t there. In its place was a sleek, black car.

“My route changed and I, uh, never got to say bye. So I thought I’d just come over. Sorry if that’s weird—”

“No, I’m happy to see you. Just surprised. I thought I’d never…”

Dean grinned. “Scared you’d lost me forever?”

Castiel smiled. “Yeah, a bit,” he admitted.

“I, um, I brought you this.” He held out the plant, laughed nervously. “I felt weird coming over without anything to deliver.”

“Thank you. It’s lovely.” Taking the plant, he stroked the leaves. “I know exactly where to put it.” His heart pounded as he realized now was his chance. He had to take it.

He started to ask for Dean’s number, but Dean started talking too, and they both stopped, laughing. “You first,” Castiel said.

“Um, well.” Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was thinking, would you maybe want to hang out somewhere other than your doorway? I can show you around town.” He gestured to his car. “Take you for a spin in Baby.”

Castiel couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “I would love that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve been… I’ve been meaning to ask you out, or ask for your number. I just never worked up the courage.”

Dean grinned. “Am I really that intimidating?”

Castiel laughed. “No. Not at all. You’re quite the opposite.” He gestured inside. “Would you, uh, would you like to come inside?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Castiel started to open the door wider, then paused. “I have a question. You never did need my signature, did you? For the packages?”

Dean frowned, then realization seemed to hit him and his face reddened. “Yeah, uh. No. But I figured it was a surefire way to get your name and talk to you.”

“Is that a trick you use often?”

“Nope, you were the first.” He grinned, eyes suddenly teasing. "Did you really need everything you were ordering, or were all the packages just an excuse to see me?"

Now was Castiel's time to blush. "I did need what I ordered!" he protested. "Well, some things. But mainly... I just wanted to talk to you."

“Well, it worked.”

“Yes.” He stepped back for Dean to come inside his home and smiled at him. “And I’m very glad it did."

Tag List:

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder @arcticfox007 @celestialcastiel @improvedpeanut @castiel-is-a-cat @harmonyhelms @thetrueliesofafangirl @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @theangelwiththewormstache @confusedisaster @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @darksongfire @lykanyouko

Let me know (message, ask, comment) if you’d like to be tagged in my destiel fics or removed from the list :)

#dailydestieldelights #congrats sophie on 2k!#thanks for organizing this lil challenge #ive had this wip for ages now #and im happy i finally got the push to finish it #AU #cas and dean need to use their words #meet cute #fluff #cas likes to garden #gabe is an annoying brother #expectingtofly writes

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artificialdaydreamer · 3 years

Text

A somewhat late fic for @jonsimsandcats day.

Jon is a god of cats whose cat followers report that a beast has taken up residence in the wood outside of town and is causing trouble. Jon, unable to say no to helping cats agrees to get rid of this beast only to run into Martin, who is also searching for it.

Warnings for mild injuries to animals and people

—

Jon woke to find a pair of slitted eyes staring at him. It was not an unusual occurrence, he couldn’t go anywhere without the local cats greeting him, or letting him know of problems they were having. He was, after all, the god of cats. They were his followers and his messengers, and in return he gave them protection and knowledge. It was more unusual to not wake up with several cats sleeping on top of him. The tabby blinked slowly at Jon, he blinked back, and it settled on his lap, its fluffy tail swishing from side to side.

The building he’d fallen asleep in was technically a temple to him but humans rarely visited it so it had fallen into a state of disrepair. It was still a sanctuary for cats, they knew that within its walls they could be safe and warm while they slept, but the only other being that really came inside it was Jon. He tried to keep the fireplace lit in winter and set out bowls of fresh water, but there was only so much he could do. It wasn’t like he could fix the cracked windows and provide an unlimited supply of food, he just wasn’t that powerful.

The God of Cats and Curiosity was not a god people often prayed to, not until winter fell and mice invaded grain stores. Cat owners would occasionally set something on their mantle in offering to him, a saucer of milk or a piece of dried meat, but more often than not it was the cats themselves who honored him. He could understand what they said, and sometimes they were the only creatures he talked with for years. In a world where belief was what made a god strong it was a miracle he hadn’t faded away altogether.

“Hello, master,” a voice sounded inside Jon’s head as the cat purred. He stroked its ginger fur and it rubbed its head against his hand. “I have news from the others in town.”

“Oh?”

“They say a beast is lurking in the forest, it has already affected the supply of prey, and several cats who stumbled across it were wounded by it. If we cannot go hunt in the woods we won’t have enough food.” This was news to Jon, a beast in the forest? Not only was it killing animals it had hurt some of his followers, those he’d sworn to protect. His stomach churned at the thought of how they must have felt, had they prayed to him for help? Had he been too far away to hear them?

“Take me to them.” He started to get to his feet, the cat jumped off his lap as he straightened his clothes, making sure the hood of his blue cape covered his pointed ears completely. Despite being a god he couldn’t change his form, or hide the ears and tail that revealed what he was, so he relied on human clothes like skirts and hoods to disguise himself.

The tabby wound its way between his legs before heading towards the door, and Jon followed. The street was quiet, a few humans passed them but it seemed early enough in the day that a lot of them weren’t up. Turning down an alley he saw a pile of crates had been left in a niche and several cats had made themselves comfortable in it, there were even a few blankets and pillows. On one threadbare cushion lay a female tortoiseshell with cuts on her back, the wounds had scabbed over but dried blood streaked her fur and she couldn’t move without hurting.

“You poor thing.” Unwrapping the cloth belt from around his waist Jon dipped it into a dish of water someone had laid out nearby and began to dab at the cuts. The cat hissed, pupils narrowing into slits, but she didn’t scratch him. She knew who he was and what he was doing here. It took hardly any effort to soothe the tortoiseshell, to numb the pain as he cleaned her wounds. The last thing he wanted was to heal the cuts only to have her get sick because he hadn’t ensured they were dirt-free first.

“Thank you, master.” The tortoiseshell butted his hand with her head. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, I apologize for letting you get hurt in the first place.”

“That was not your fault, master. You could not have known the beast would start lurking in the forest.” The cat shook her head, her tail sticking straight up. “The world is a dangerous place, you cannot be everywhere, even if you are a god.”

Sighing, Jon nodded, his own tail flicking from side to side in agitation. She was right, but it still hurt to know that he could not protect all of his followers from harm. Despite being a god he wasn’t very powerful, people just didn’t pray to him enough. He could look through the eyes of other cats nearby and bless them with safety for a limited time, but his power was finite. Anything more than a league away from him was hard to sense, although it hadn’t always been that way. “I’m looking for the beast, would you mind telling me where you encountered it?”

“I can show you.” Getting to her feet the tortoiseshell stretched deeply.

“Lead the way.”

—————

The forest was dense, trees crowded tight together and thick grasses that made it hard to maneuver, if it wasn’t for the narrow footpath made by other travelers Jon would be miserable. A short distance ahead of him the tortoiseshell cat led the way, showing no sign that her earlier injuries were still paining her. Every so often sunlight would find some way through the thick canopy of branches overhead and illuminate their surroundings, although they both could see in the dark just fine. Jon wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking, but when huge pawprints had been practically gouged in the path he insisted the cat ride on his shoulders for the rest of the journey.

“What kind of animal is this beast?” Jon muttered, ihe tracks were bigger than his hand, and while they appeared to be made by some kind of dog they were far larger than most he’d seen. As they progressed Jon saw several trees with claw marks on them and he started to feel anxious. Sure, he was technically a god, but he’d never really been in a fight before. He wouldn’t necessarily die, not from physical wounds, and he did heal faster than the normal human but that didn’t mean he wanted to get hurt. He didn’t even have a weapon to defend himself.

Somewhere in the trees ahead of them a branch snapped, then another. Jon braced himself as he heard footsteps approaching him, growing faster and louder until he saw a huge brown thing burst out from behind a bush and race towards where he stood. It was all he could do to cast a simple protective spell on the cat and drop her on the ground before the thing knocked him over. His head hit hard-packed earth and the world went dark.

“-right?” A voice sounded from somewhere nearby, sounding concerned but Jon was in too much pain to register much more. He willed his body to heal itself, to reduce the swelling and stop his head from throbbing with every beat of his heart. Slowly, agonizingly slow, he found that he could open his eyes, although the world itself was a blur of green and black. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

Just as his eyes adjusted he saw a face staring down at him, their expression worried. A human? Sitting up so fast his head swam Jon checked to see that his hood was still in place. It had shifted somewhat when he fell, but his ears were thankfully still covered. The human had curly orange hair and a round, friendly face, although they still looked anxious. Next to them sat a dog, a huge fluffy thing, even sitting it came up to Jon’s chest, with light-brown fur everywhere but its face and ears, which were black. Was this the beast?

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” The human’s voice was high-pitched and laced with concern. Jon shook his head slightly, but winced as pain sparked behind his eyes.

“I’m fine.” Regardless of how worried this human was, Jon didn’t want them looking at him too closely, the last thing he needed was for them to find out just what he was. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh!” They looked surprised. “I was looking for my dog; they ran off and, well, it’s not like I can stop him if he wants to go somewhere.”

“You own this thing?”

“Well, I guess you could say that. His owners couldn’t take care of him because they had another baby on the way and...” The human trailed off, freckled cheeks flushing pink. “Anyway, I’ve taken in strays before so they felt comfortable giving him to me.”

Jon didn’t really care about where the dog came from, but looking at the size of its paws gave him an idea. “I’ve been told there’s some sort of beast attacking animals in the woods, and I found tracks and claw marks on the path-”

“It’s not him! I know what you’re talking about- I’ve had to take in a whole bunch of wounded animals recently- so I came out here to try and find this ‘beast’ too.” Their voice rose an octave, eyes widening with fear. “I brought Silas with me because I thought he could maybe track it somehow? I know he’s not really a hunting dog but still...”

“Has it?” He scanned the ground nearby and found the tortoiseshell cat hiding behind a tree just off the path. Kneeling down Jon held out a hand to her. “I’m sorry, darling. Are you alright?” The cat approached him cautiously, eyes darting to the dog every so often, and he scooped her up in his arms.

“What?”

“Has it tracked the beast?” It was hard to keep from rolling his eyes, Jon didn’t care much for rambling when he had something to do. He absentmindedly stroked the tortoiseshell’s head, trying to reassure it.

“N- No... I thought he had but he just found you.” The human gave a shy smile. “How do I know you’re not the beast?”

Jon stiffened, his ears flattening against his hair and his tail bristling. In his arms the cat hissed angrily. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“Calm down, let me handle this.” It was clear this human had no idea they’d just insulted a god, but as much as Jon wanted to curse them for the accusation he was here for a different reason. “If you don’t have anything helpful to say then this is where we part.” He continued to comfort the cat as he pushed past them and continued on the path.

“W- Wait!” Glancing over his shoulder Jon saw the human was following him. “I mean, we both have the same goal, don’t we? We both want to find this beast and stop it from hurting the local animals. Why don’t we look for it together?”

“I can’t stop you from following me.” Jon sighed and tugged his hood farther forward. He had a feeling that he’d made the wrong decision, but he’d spoken the truth. Besides, this human was larger than he was, with them and the dog he might stand a chance against this beast.

They walked in silence for a while, but like all good things it didn’t last. “I just realized I never got your name; I’m Martin, Martin Blackwood.”

“Jon.” He didn’t feel much like talking, especially since he was trying to listen for any strange noises.

“Just... Just Jon?” The human- Martin- seemed dissatisfied at his answer.

“That’s all I’m willing to share with you.”

“Right, that’s fine,” A pause. “Are you a man?” When Jon glared at them Martin turned bright red. “It’s just, I don’t want to misgender you, that’s all. I’m a man, he/him pronouns.”

“I don’t really see the point of gender.” Jon sighed, pulling on his hood as his ears were flicking enough from irritation he feared it might fall down. “He/they, I guess.”

“Got it.” Martin was a few paces behind, his footsteps louder than Jon’s. “I’m guessing you’re also an animal lover, given that you’re also searching for this beast.” Jon wanted to scream, could this human not be quiet for five minutes?

“Yes, which is why I’m trying to track it. That being said, if it makes noise I will be unable to hear it because you keep talking.” Glancing over his shoulder Jon saw Martin stiffen, his cheeks still flushed from embarrassment. Thankfully he didn’t say anything though, and Jon could have cried from relief.

They continued on, neither of them making a sound as they trudged through the woods, occasionally the dog would run ahead and sniff at a tree or patch of earth but thankfully it didn’t bark. Eventually they arrived in a clearing only to find more tracks in the dirt, the same ones Jon had seen on the path. He was about to say something to Martin when some bushes rustled and a giant wolf leapt towards him.

Having a huge animal knock him over once already that day Jon was more alert, and while he managed to avoid the worst of the beast’s attack its claws still managed to slash through his tunic and he could feel hot, sticky blood running down his side. The pain would come later, once the shock went away, but he was glad to have only gotten minor injuries as he stumbled backwards, clutching the cat to his chest and making sure his hood hadn’t fallen off. His ears were flattened against his hair again and his heart was racing.

“Jon!” Martin rushed to him, blue eyes wide as he took in the wound. Jon pushed him away, staring at the wolf in horror. The beast was as large as a horse, its fur so streaked with dirt and blood, mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Still, even as his skin knit back together and his heart pounded in his chest he sensed something off about it. Not just its size, but something about its essence was wrong.

Martin had grabbed a broken branch and was holding it like a club, the dog was growling and looked ready to attack the wolf, but Jon held out a hand. “Don’t!”

“That thing nearly killed you!”

“It’s cursed, Martin, it’s not doing this because it wants to.” Placing the tortoiseshell on the ground he took a few cautious steps towards the wolf, one hand outstretched. It snarled at him, crouching down as though preparing to strike again, but Jon tried to reach out with his powers. He was a cat god, but he hoped he could at least calm the thing down from whatever blind rage it had succumbed to. As he drew nearer he saw something wrapped around the beast’s neck, a leather cord so dirty it was almost indistinguishable from its fur. The energy emanating from the cord was the cause of the strange feeling he’d sensed, could that be the source of the curse? “We need to get the cord off its neck.”

“How are we supposed to do that? I doubt we can get close enough.” Martin frowned, but at least he didn’t seem like he was going to attack the wolf.

“Do you have a knife of some sort?” Jon supposed that being the god of cats it was unusual for him to not have “claws” of some sort, but he didn’t like hurting living things. In the future he might start carrying something around, just in case he needed it.

“Oh, yeah! Hang on.” Martin dropped the branch and fumbled at his waist before tossing something to Jon, who barely managed to catch it. Fortunately the knife was still in its leather sheath, the wooden handle was worn but the blade gleamed as though it had been freshly sharpened. Upon seeing it the wolf snarled, baring its teeth and crouching down as though readying to pounce.

“That’s what I was worried about.” Jon sheathed the knife again and approached the beast slowly, trying not to startle it. Fortunately the wolf did not attack, but it didn’t relax either, its ice-blue eyes focused on him.

When he was in front of it he grasped the leather cord in one hand and had to resist the urge to cry out in agony. Jon wasn’t the target of this particular curse, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the malice that had gone into it. A deer, sacred to the Goddess of the Wild, had been slain by accident and the hunter had been turned into a bloodthirsty monster in return. The wolf howled, out of pain or sadness he didn’t know, but he managed to pull out the knife and cut the cord. It fell to the ground, turning into a pile of ash, and Jon felt his knees buckle.

When his vision cleared Martin was kneeling next to him, and before him lay a woman. Her clothes were tattered, caked in blood and dirt, her blond hair coming out of its messy braid. The dog sniffed at her prone form, occasionally nudging her cheek with his nose or pawing at her as though it was concerned. Jon could see that she was breathing, but no doubt she was exhausted from whatever the curse had done to her.

“This is the beast?” Martin looked taken aback, that the monster who’d slaughtered and wounded animals was just a human. “She looks so... innocent.”

“Everyone looks innocent when they’re asleep. She’s a hunter, but she accidentally chose the wrong prey and angered a god.” Jon sighed, getting to his feet and once more checking his hood.

The cat wound its way between his legs, rubbing up against them and purring. “You did it master!”

“I can carry her back to town.” Jon blinked, not sure he’d understood Martin. “What? We can’t just leave her here, it’d be best to bring her to a healer so someone can take a look at her.”

“Right, of course.” He’d forgotten that humans were so fragile, although Jon could sense that some part of the curse had not left the woman. She had been changed by it, marked by the wild.

The trip back through the forest was quiet, neither of them felt much like talking as they picked their way through the trees. The sun had started to set and Jon had to rely on his night vision to guide them, all the while hoping that Martin wouldn’t ask how he could see so well in the dark, or notice the unusual shine to his eyes. Once they’d entered town a handful of cats approached him, all of them thanking him for getting rid of the beast.

“Wow,” Martin gaped at the welcome party. “Cats really like you, huh?”

“You could say that.” Jon replied, unable to hide his smirk.

It was fortunate that the healer recognized the woman and agreed to treat her free of charge because Jon had no money whatsoever. His followers were mainly cats, and it wasn’t like they were in the business of giving him spare change. The healer called the woman “Daisy,” although the name didn’t seem to fit the huge wolf she’d been mere hours ago. Then again, Jon wasn’t exactly the best name for a god of cats and it was still his name.

It was only when Martin stopped at a crossroads and pointed down one of the streets did Jon remember that their partnership had been temporary. “I live down that way, I’m sure if you ask someone they’ll be able to point you in my direction.”

“Right...” It was strange, he’d only known Martin for a short amount of time and yet he felt a pang of sadness in his chest. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Goodnight, Jon.” Martin smiled and began to walk away, the dog bounding off down the street.

“Goodnight, Martin.”

When he returned to his temple and settled down on the pile of blankets he called a bed Jon thought about his day. While he’d originally set off to find the beast because his followers had asked it of him, he hadn’t actually done anything godlike. Sure, he’d figured out that the wolf was cursed and managed to break the cord, but it hadn’t really been that difficult. Apart from getting injured twice, that was. Jon thought of Martin’s kindness when the dog had knocked him over, of his flushed face when he was embarrassed, of his bravery when preparing to fight the beast. As his eyes drifted shut he considered how odd it was, that after being a god for so long it only took one day for him to suddenly feel so very human.

——

One day I will not get ideas for an event the day of said event. Credit to the Magnus Writer’s server for the plot bunny, and thanks to @ravendarkwood for the beta!

#jonsimsandcats2021 #jon sims and cats day #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #my fic

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bisexual-inuyasha · 3 years

Text

The Hook

Prompt: “Tell me to stop touching you.” “No.”

Chapter One: Meeting

Ling was supposed to be meeting his future husband. Not right now, but soon. Far too soon.

When he was a child, before his mother had unveiled the curse of his lineage, he had dreamed of love. He had dreamed of sweet arms around his shoulders. He had dreamed of his love’s hair tickling his nose while they laid under the Xing stars and fell asleep.

And now his heart was breaking.

And maybe that was why he was one bottle down on the sweet wine, shirt loose and feet bare in the gardens. His vision blurred, only a little, but that made it easier to pretend the white flowers in the arches were stars. But no amount of drunken stupor could turn alone into not alone.

Inside the palace was a feast. People chattered on without him, somehow not bothering to find him in his own party. So far away but close enough he could still hear the band’s music warbling through the night air. It hadn’t been difficult at all to slip a bottle into his jacket and disappear through the back doors.

He should have grabbed two bottles, he thought. “Maybe I can go back in and leave again.”

“Not a fan of this kind of thing?”

The voice came from somewhere above him. He didn’t feel like turning his head to see who it was. “What?”

“Do you usually make a habit of slipping away and drinking yourself stupid, or is today an exception?” A foot nudged his, the sensation of hard leather unpleasant against his skin. “I don’t think your new husband will approve.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ling closed his eyes. He didn’t recognize the voice. Whoever it was could fuck off. “If you tell on me, I’ll just run away and then what? You’ll look like the guy who ruined the first royal marriage in Xing in almost a hundred years.”

Which was only because the last emperor had married when he was barely more than a child and then not died until he was so decrepit as to be near dust. Still, so few remembered the last wedding that all of Xing was going wild for the chance to celebrate.

“I don’t envy you.” The voice got a lot closer. “Do you have more?”

Ling sighed. The empty bottle waved around, his grip tight on the neck to ensure he didn’t drop it on his head. “No. All empty.”

“Do you want more?” A clinking sounded beside him as the bottle was suddenly gone. “Or do you think you’ll get sick?”

“I am still engaged?”

“Unless the bastard drops dead of a heart attack.”

Ling could see bright blond hair, glowing dully gold in the lamplight. “Well, then. Please, give me more to drink.”

“So polite for an emperor.”

“Politeness is a whole language, and I am fluent.” Ling struggled to push himself up. “I’m only impolite to people I really like.”

“You just told me to shut up.” The blond chuckled.

“And you brought more wine. I obviously have excellent skills of perception.” Ling grabbed the bottle and greedily drank a mouthful.

The stranger only laughed again.

Ling liked the sound of it. He looked at the stranger, struggling to focus. These weren’t exactly small bottles of wine. The man was pretty.

“Thanks, though the last person to call me pretty was a lot smaller than you.” The person took a long, loud drink. Ling hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but he didn’t regret it.

“I’m not going to remember you in the morning, you know.” Ling wiped his arm across his eyes. “In case you’re trying to get some kind of favor.”

The man got quiet, his face suddenly stern. “I’m not trying to get anything from you. You just looked so… scared. When you went outside.”

Ling felt the tears gathering. Why should he care? Why should it matter to him if this stranger saw him cry? An arm wound around his shoulders and Ling cried into a warm chest.

“I’m Edward.” The bottle was pressed back into his hand. “I’m from Xerxes. Or was, I guess.”

Ling thought the name Edward sounded familiar. And if it sounded familiar to him… from Xerxes? He was too drunk to really think it through, but he had a feeling that Edward from Xerxes wasn’t just some guy. “Ed from Xerxes. Do you want to lay down with me?”

“You’re way too drunk for all that.” Ed’s arm swung away from his shoulder. Ling groaned and grabbed the arm again.

“Not like that.” Ling flung himself back, and the stranger Ed followed. “Just lay and look at the stars.”

“Those are flowers,” Ed said but it was too late. Ling was already asleep.

He woke up the next morning with a headache that threatened to split his face in two. His mouth was dry. Drool dried on his chin. Someone was moving just outside his view. “Lan Fan?”

“Yes?” His best friend was busy not looking at him.

“How bad did it go last night?”

“Grandfather found you asleep in the garden.” She bit her lip.

“Was I alone?” He had the shape of a memory. Of a person, kind and warm and pretty.

She burned red. She gestured on the chair beside his bed. “You were alone, but.”

A red jacket lay across the back. It was well crafted. Ling got the impression it was also very soft. Bits of grass stuck to the sleeves. “This was covering me?”

“Yes. You were clutching it quite possessively.” She hesitated. “Did… Did anything happen?”

“If I say yes, do I get to not get married?”

“Unfortunately, Sire, I think not.” She reached over and brushed his hair away from his eyes, placing a firm kiss against his forehead. “Though, the fact you didn’t turn into a mess tells me enough.”

Ling rubbed at his eyes. He yawned and tried to ignore the anxiety swelling in his chest. “Well, I guess we best get the day started.”

All his insides felt tangled and wrong. A sour taste permeated his mouth. He swung his feet over the edge of his bed, thumping his feet against the floor. The smooth wood was cold and grounding. He felt a little less wobbly now.

He ran his hand over the jacket, brushing off bits of grass from the sleeves. A lavish dining hall full of people, all there to celebrate his engagement, and only a single person sought him out. He struggled to remember the stranger’s face or his voice or anything. All he could remember was being so alone, and then not, wanting to watch the stars fade into morning. And then nothing.

“Lan Fan, do you know who this belongs to?” Ling picked the jacket up, slid it over his shoulders. It was too small.

“I don’t, Sire.” She chewed on his cheek, a habit she had when she wanted to say something but was too nervous.

“Don’t worry, I’m not. Expecting anything.” He sighed and laid the jacket back onto his chair. “I understand my duty to Xing.”

The words grated against his mouth like nails. He scrubbed the inside of his mouth with a toothbrush. Lan Fan finished fiddling with his breakfast, which he was certainly not touching, and left him to get organized for the day.

He needed to bathe. His hair was filled with small bits of twigs and grass. “Ugh.”

He didn’t have anywhere to be too early this morning. The advisors had assumed he’d be worn out from his party and would need time to recover. They were fully right, of course. Just not for the reason they’d assumed.

He poured perfume and salt into his tub, filling it with the hottest water he could stand. And he spent the next hour scrubbing the sweat and dirt and sick-sweet smell of wine from his body and his hair. Try as he might, he couldn’t scrub himself free of even the vague memories of last night.

“Hm. Red jacket, huh?” He glanced at the chair. It was a nice jacket. Surely whoever was missing it would want it back. And he owed them some kind of thanks for keeping him company. Right? “I’m sure someone knows who you belong to.”

He sat in the bath until it was cool and the bubbles had disappeared. The smell of sandalwood and fire still hung around the room, but his stomach had settled not long after he’d crawled into the water.

Mind made up, Ling pulled a simple white shirt over his head, loose and cool, and shimmied into a simple pair of dark pants. His skin felt raw, everything too sensitive and overstimulated. A dull throbbing ached behind his eyes. Pulling the brush through his hair threatened to throw him into a migraine, so he didn’t risk tying his hair back. He lay back on the bed again for who knows how long, mind drifting through what he was meant to do now and what his options really were.

The late afternoon sun was red, hovering just above setting. Ling had wasted a whole day of his freedom locked away in his room. He’d have to shake himself out of this. He gave himself a full body shake, in each of his limbs and through his hair, imagining all of this feeling falling off his body like water. His mother had taught him that technique, and usually it worked.

Maybe not so well today. Still. He grabbed the jacket from the chair, taking a chance to really look it over. Bright red, finely crafted. Mostly just a rectangle with a long, ruched sleeve holding it together at either end. The fabric was soft, woven. Stitched, very carefully, into the back was the Xerxian lion.

A memory floated up through the haze of last night. It was still soft all around the edges, not quite set, but enough that Ling thought he could at least test it out. Someone had told him they were from Xerxes… or used to be… Someone named Ed. Well, everyone from the party would still be here tonight. A Xingese engagement celebration lasted for a full week. In a usual situation, it would be a week where he and his lover did not see each other, so that they might have a chance to dedicate themselves to their friends and their families, and allow anticipation to grow for the day they saw each other again.

For Ling, the engagement party would end, and he would meet this Amestrian for the first time. From there, he was expected to be united with his husband. And his husband with him.

But already, Ling was getting the shit end of this deal. His husband had chosen him. Ling had been advised that this was a wise match--his future husband’s military strength was impressive, and the man was said to be handsome, if a bit gruff. The advisors had outlined how a marriage of this type would confirm Ling’s rule--no one would be able to challenge his proclamations any more. Not without risking the weight of the Amestrian military crushing them.

It wasn’t how Ling wanted to rule. A people loyal under threat were not loyal at all. But the clans still fought, day to day. And the people were distrustful of him and his youth. The Amestrian he was meant to be marrying was supposed to be older, experienced. It made Ling’s skin crawl.

He’d gone through hell to get here. He’d rather be miserable than let all the lives he took and all the things Lan Fan had endured go to waste. So he’d agreed. Like a man with his neck in the noose, he’d agreed.

Now, though. Now his fingers buzzed with the feel of the fabric. He hadn’t bothered to put on shoes yet. With any luck he’d be mistaken for one of the many guests around and his guards would leave him alone. If he only kept his face out of view.

He didn’t know why he was so interested in whoever owned this jacket. It wouldn’t matter. And if he was right, it would only make it worse.

He began in the west wing, sidling up behind one of his housekeepers who was nosily dusting a very dustless vase. He assumed her diligence had very little to do with the state of his Palace and several-greats-grandfather’s priceless pottery and everything to do with the very loud and unsavory sounds coming from the room behind the vase. “It’s not unusual for people to pair up at these kinds of shindigs, you know.”

Ling kept his voice low, his presence unassuming. She jumped anyway, tossing the duster in her hand clear over his head. It was quite a feat, considering he was at least a foot and half taller than her. She was mousy and plump, every bit the picture of the nosy old woman. “Sire!”

“Well, hello there. You seem quite,” he glanced pointedly at the gleaming vase, “committed to your duties. Would you mind telling me if you recognize this?”

She took one glance at the red jacket and her face relaxed. “Oh, that’s just the Amestrian alchemist's uniform.”

Ling frowned. He would have noticed that. “Are you sure? Look here, it has this lion on the back of it.”

She barely glanced back at it. “It’s been customized. But I just washed about a dozen of those. You can see here how the sleeves have been taken in, so as not to smudge the chalk.”

Ling frowned. “So, is there a Xerxian alchemist in the Amestrian alchemists program?”

“I’m sorry, Sire. Not that I know of.” She eyed the jacket again. “I can take that for you, if you’d like. It needs a good washing.”

Ling pulled it away just before she was able to grab it. He winked at her. Her lined cheeks turned bright red. The jacket flung casually over his shoulder, and he walked quickly away from her. “No, I’d like to return it myself.”

By the time he found someone else to ask, someone who wasn’t a housekeeper or cook or any other nosy body, the sun was sinking. He was nearly out of time. Dinner was starting soon, and he’d have to be dressed and suitable for addressing the people. So he was less smooth this time, when he finally stopped someone who looked not at all familiar. “Do you know whose this is?”

Immediately, he sensed danger. The person he asked grinned, their eyes way too wide and excited to be a casual reaction. Instinctively he pulled the jacket back to his chest. “Yeah, you know. I do. Hold on.”

The person turned back towards the room they’d been coming out of. “Oh, Ed! Someone has something of yours. He’s handsome, too.”

“Al, I swear to God if you’re fucking with me--”

And Ling suddenly had another memory as the golden haired man stuck his face out the door. “You are pretty.”

And then the door slammed in his face. Like, painfully. He rubbed his nose, feeling underneath for blood. Maybe it would bruise.

The door inched open, and Ling saw a still grinning Al. “Sorry about that. He’s not used to people calling him pretty. I’ll send him right out.”

Ling wasn’t standing around for long before the man returned. He covered his nose and held out the jacket. “You left this.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to remember me.” The man scowled.

“I assume that’s why you left a clue behind?”

“You were completely shitfaced.” The scowl deepened. “I couldn’t just leave you there, uncovered.”

“I get it, you felt sorry for me. I didn’t become Emperor of Xing by getting embarrassed by stuff like that.” Ling ran his hands through his hair. “Would you like to go to dinner with me? I want to repay you for your kindness.”

Al was watching them both with a grin stretched across their face. “Your kindness, Ed.”

“Do they usually act like this?” He wasn’t sure if he was meant to laugh or if he was being laughed at.

“Yes, they do. When it’s me, at least.” Ed rubbed his hand over his face. “Well, I guess. Let’s go.”

Ling looked down at his clothes. “I’m not wearing shoes.”

“Yeah, you should take care of that.” Ed’s scowl was maybe just permanently fixed there. Was it possible Ling was making a mistake?

He’d just opened his mouth to tell Ed that he wasn’t required to eat dinner with him, if he didn’t want. Sometimes that happened too--people assumed when he asked something, that it wasn’t a real question. So he’d stopped asking for things, usually, unless it was an order. Or he was talking to Lan Fan.

Ed waved him off before he could speak, reaching for his jacket. “So, are you ok?”

Ling’s mouth snapped shut. He hadn’t expected that. “What?”

“Are you ok?” Ed gave him a worried look. “You seemed pretty messed up last night. I mean, by the time I found you.”

“I’m doing better.” Ling lied.

“That’s good to know.” Ed shrugged his jacket back on. “I don’t know how often I can get away with sneaking out to the garden with you and drinking ourselves senseless.”

Ling blushed. “Ok, well, you know. You don’t have to remind me.”

“Apparently you remembered all on your own.” Ed shook his head, his blond braid swinging behind him. “So, are you going to change, or are you planning a soft rebellion?”

A soft rebellion sounded nice. Ling did not consider his bare feet to be a soft rebellion. “I’ll be stopping by my room, briefly. Feel free to follow me if you like.”

Ling had meant it as a teasing, assuming that he’d meet Ed in the dining hall. Yet, when he headed down the hallway that led to his rooms, Ed followed behind, ticking off artifacts and paintings on his fingers. The run of his fingertips against the wall sounded unusual.

“Are you wearing… Metal gloves?” Ling paused, listening more closely.

“No, actually. The opposite.” Ed tapped his fingers purposefully on the wall. It made a loud, satisfying tinking sound “Wanna see?”

Ling quirked a brow. “See your hands?”

“Well, hand.” Ed wiggled his fingers on his right hand, a thin white glove covering whatever was making the metallic sound against Ling’s walls. Carefully, one finger at a time, Ed took the gloves off to reveal a metal hand. “See, I’m wearing cloth gloves. What you heard was me.”

Ling moved closer, nearly touching Ed’s fingertips before he caught himself. “Is it ok if I touch it?”

“I--uh, yeah? Most people just do.” Ed rubbed the back of his head with his other hand. “Thanks for asking.”

The gratitude surprised him. “It’s your hand. I wouldn’t be happy if someone just grabbed my hand without warning.”

Ed’s face split into a grin. “You know, you’re right.”

Ling shook his head, placing his hand gently against the metal. Cool, jagged edges pressed back against his palm. “Can you feel my hand?”

He didn’t look up to see if Ed responded. He brushed the tips of the metal caps with his fingertips. They weren’t sharp, like he’d expected. And the oval plate meant to be the base of the thumb was smooth, polished nearly naked by use. It was art, Ling thought to himself. He pressed his hand against Ed’s once more. Art in a more real way than Ling had ever seen--art of a person to a degree he’d never been able to accomplish. His fingers stretched out beyond the edge of the metal, his palm just a smidge wider. “My hands are bigger than yours.”

Ed coughed and pulled his hand back. “You’re... I didn’t expect you to be that interested. Usually it’s, kind of like a. Like a party trick, you know?”

“Are you nervous?” Ling had gotten too close. He stepped back and turned on his heel. “Your arm is beautiful.”

“People don’t usually have an opinion on it.” Ed frowned. “Well, unless they’re automail mechanics, but then it’s nothing like that.”

Ling laughed. “Then what do people usually say?”

Ed considered for a moment. “Nothing. They usually are surprised that I've got a metal arm, say something about how I’m an inspiration or something, and then we move on. Automail mechanics usually go all gaga and ask me for Winry’s number.”

They’d made their way to Ling’s rooms. “Do you feel like an inspiration?”

“No. Can’t say I do.” Ed tapped his fingers. “I have to say, this is an unusual conversation. Let’s change the subject.”

So Ling did. “Well, I’d best get changed. You’re welcome to come in.”

Ed followed him, quietly. Ling flitted around the room, grabbing the most comfortable, passable clothes he could get away with that night. His room still smelled of sandalwood and soap. It was a pleasant smell but heavy and perfumy in a way that made him self conscious. He glanced back after pulling his shirt off to see Ed rustling through his papers on his desk.

“Did you do these?” Ed didn’t touch Ling’s work. Instead he hovered over them, nose nearly touching the charcoal. “No wonder you called my arm art. You probably see art in a lot of things.”

Ling scrambled over to the papers, quickly placing himself between Ed and the desk. “You are an explorer, aren’t you? Ha.”

Hastily, he stacked the papers and shoved them into a drawer.

“What, you don’t like them?”

Ling groaned and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to get into how he felt about his art. He went to rub his hand over his face but flinched as his hand bumped against his bruised nose. “Ow.”

Ed scowled more harshly than Ling had seen him scowl so far. His non-metal hand reached towards Ling’s face. Ling flinched on instinct. But Ed’s touch was gentle as he traced over the light bruise on Ling’s nose.

“I’m sorry about that. You caught me off guard. I didn’t expect you to remember anything.” His thumb pushed a little too hard on the bridge of Ling’s nose and Ling hissed in pain. “I used to be able to help with stuff like this. Nowadays, I’m useless.”

“It’s just a bruise. Don’t be so dramatic.” Ling covered his nose with his hand. It was a mistake--it just hurt again.

“Jeez, no need to get all embarrassed. I’m the dumbass that slammed a door in your face.”

“You were, weren’t you?” Ling hummed, tapping his finger against his chin. “I guess that means you owe me.”

“I don’t do just any kind of favor.” Ed crossed his arms and stood defiantly straight. The pose reminded Ling of a small bird puffing out its chest. “What do you want me to do?”

“Model for me. Just real quick. Your arm, I’ve never seen anything like it. Not up close anyway.” Ling picked up a charcoal left on his desk. “All the tarnishing in the nooks and crannies, all the smooth polish of well used parts. It’s so unique to you--to the actions you’ve taken and the places you’ve been.”

Ed deflated sheepishly. “Oh, that’s all. Ok, then. I mean, I don’t get it really. It’s just automail.”

Ling grinned. “I’ll show you, after I’ve sketched it out.”

Ed looked uncomfortable at first. Then, Ling nudged his shirt sleeve up until the full bottom half of the automail was exposed. Carefully, Ling arranged Ed’s arm to catch the light, to show off all the worn angles. As he sketched, arranged, sketched, and rearranged, Ed settled down. He held his metal arm perfectly still, and laid his head on his other hand, and closed his eyes. Ling almost thought he was asleep, until suddenly, Ed leapt from his chair.

“Dinner!”

And then they were both jumping, Ed all but dashed out the door while Ling slung his robe on.

It wasn’t until he got to dinner that Ling remembered he wasn’t wearing shoes. “Shit.”

They were very late. Late enough that the dining room was full.

“We should have come in separately.” Ed whispered from the side of his mouth. “This is weird.”

Ling didn’t say anything. Lan Fan sat in her usual spot, his empty seat beside her. A familiar face sat across from her, grinning the same wide grin as when Ling first met them. Alphonse. So, the two of them must have been talking when neither he nor Ed showed up on time for dinner. He wasn’t sure how, but Lan Fan must have made some excuse, since everyone was eating. Even if the guests were still staring at them, at least they hadn’t been waiting to start for all this time.

Ling took his seat, careful to never drop his neutral, most royal expression. “How is the food tonight, Lan Fan?”

“Delicious as always, Sire.” Lan Fan took a large bite off her plate. “Though it would have been better warm.”

Her words bite. She’s upset at him. “I’m sorry, Lan Fan.”

Al laughed. “He’s so quick to apologize. My brother is stubborn to the end. He never says anything outright.”

Ling grinned around a mouthful of rice. “An emperor must have some sense of humility. And besides, I got carried away with him. I should have paid closer attention to the time.”

Ed sputtered. He’d forgotten to put on his gloves, so one metal hand waved around with this others. “You can’t just say--do you know how that sounds? It was just art, ok!”

“Art?” Al tapped their plate. It was already empty. “You’re not usually so appreciative of the creative process, Ed. What kept you?”

“I was modeling,” Ed’s voice got smaller and smaller, until it was difficult to hear the last word. He rubbed at his automail, face tinged red. “Anyway, what business is it of yours?”

“To the contrary, Edward Elric. It is everyone’s business where our engaged Emperor disappears to during his celebrations.” Lan Fan put her fork down. “It is something you should be aware of if you choose to become close to the emperor.”

Ling didn’t feel much like eating. She was right, and right not to sugar coat it. But it still hurt. “Usually there are fewer eyes, though it is no less true.”

“Why on earth would I care?” Ed glared at his food, alternating between chowing down on his rice and glaring at whoever dared watch him. “Al, do you want the rest of this stuff?”

Al gladly accepted the grilled pork from Ed’s plate. The rest of the night the conversation stayed civil, the stream of words flowing easily between all of them.

“You know, he draws a lot of pictures of you,” Ed pointed his fork at Lan Fan. “You do a lot of chores. He should be paying you more.”

“I am the highest paid advisor he has. In all of Xing, only Ling is better compensated.” Lan Fan narrowed her eyes. “I go around in his rooms and helping him because he is my friend.”

Ling put his fork down. “My best friend.”

Ed looked between them. “Oh.”

“Not like that, brother.” Al shook their head. “They really are just best friends. Lan Fan is super gay.”

And for some reason, the rest of the dinner, Ed was all smiles. Not a scowl in sight.

Eventually, the food and the small talk was over. People were heading to their rooms. Some were barely able to stand, some leaned a little to casually into the bodies of their partners, and some were already dozing at their tables. The housekeepers would corral the snoozing partygoers into their rooms. Ling was worn out from the previous nights drinking and the up and down of rolling depression and unacceptable adventure of the day.

Lan Fan had already gone for the night, and Al was hovering around Ed to walk back to their rooms. Ling opened his mouth to say his farewells.

“Can you show me the work you did of my arm? I never got to see the end result.” Ed didn’t look at Al. He didn’t even look at Ling. He stared off somewhere near the door, hands tossed over his head. Ling could recognize a carefully casual pose when he saw one. So could Al.

For the first time since Ling met them, Al’s grin faltered. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t be silly, Al. It’s just some pictures.”

Al paused, their face unnaturally stern. Then, they grinned again. “As long as you're sure. Be careful.”

“I didn’t even respond yet.” Ling scoffed.

“Oh, do you have something to do?”

But now the prospect of showing off his work, possibly drawing more of Ed’s arm, maybe even convincing Ed to let him draw his face, had Ling feeling wired. “Uh, well, no. But still, you should have let me answer at least.”

“I’ll expect you back sometime tonight, Ed.” Al waved and headed off to their own room.

Ed just waved himself on, following Ling as they headed back to their room.

“You got away with wearing no shoes through all of dinner.” Ed chuckled.

“Yeah, well. You can get away with a good bit when you’re emperor. People don’t want to point it out, in case it’s something you’re supposed to be doing.”

This time, the walk back to Ling’s room was heavy. There was an expectation, a shared thought neither of them wanted to voice.

“I didn’t realize you’d gotten that much of a look at my drawings. You really liked the ones I did of Lan Fan?” Ling shrugged his robe off. His room was hot, the smell of sandalwood having finally faded, but the humidity lingering.

“You’re talented. I knew who you were drawing straight away.” Ed stretched.

Ling spread the few pages of preliminary sketches he’d gotten done across the work desk. “They aren’t much. I was still working out shapes and angles when you realized it was dinner.”

“Weird how time got away from us.” Ed laughed. “Didn’t realize my arm was so captivating.”

“You are good company,” Ling tapped his charcoal against the paper. “But, now you’ve seen the pictures. I’m sure Al is expecting you.”

It was a direct challenge. Ling wondered if Ed would meet it.

“If I’m such good company, why’re you kicking me out?” Ed scowled again, and this time Ling laughed.

“You make that face too often. Let’s see if I can get a prettier expression.” Ling sidled up against Ed’s side, his lips still split into a smile. “And then maybe I could draw some more pictures?”

“Hey now, how conceited do you think I am?”

Ling darted around Ed, pushing his golden hair away with one hand while tilting his chin with the other. “I think you are conceited enough to invite yourself to the room of an engaged emperor.”

“Well, you wanted me here.”

Ling did, it was true. “Let’s get you posed then.”

“Posed?”

“Look, if you’re going to be here, I’m going to get some practice in.” Ling tapped his hand against Ed’s cheek, sliding through Ed’s hair until he’d smoothed the blond strands behind a scarred shoulder.

And so Ling took full advantage--he drew. He drew Ed’s long hair and strong jaw. He sketched the scars where the automail connected. Ed told him about nerve connectors, and his automail mechanic, and the podunk town he grew up in.

“What about Xerxes?”

“Xerxes hasn’t had a ruler in a long, long time. Eventually, we were whittled down to nothing and Amestris absorbed us.” Ed frowned, and it marred the image he was sketching. “It was going to happen eventually, but. It didn’t make it better.”

“Amestris is quite a greedy nation, isn’t it?” Ling put down his charcoal. There was something he’d wanted to do, from the moment he’d first touched Ed’s metal hand. “First it takes your home. Then it takes me, reaching its claws into Xing. Offering what we want in exchange for everything we already have.”

He slid his hand along the cool metal, pushing the arm up and away. “Can you feel my hand? Is that how the nerve reactors work?”

“A little. It’s like a pressure.” Ed narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious but not worried. “Not like when you touch my other hand.”

Ling nodded, pulling Ed’s other hand to him. He had almost a memory of Ed’s arm around him. Almost a memory of a moment. “Tell me to stop touching you.”

Ed didn’t look away. “No.”

“Then I’m not going to stop.” Ling cupped his hand against Ed’s face. And there, exactly where he wanted them, Ed’s arms wrapped around him.

Tomorrow's problems would come tomorrow. This was what he wanted now.

#Edling #Ling Yao #Edward Elric #FMAB #this is that thing I was working on before #Arranged Marriage AU #I loooove this story #Chapter 1 of 4

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hange-zone · 3 years

Note

May I please have some Eremin Hades/Persephone au? With Eren as dread Persephone and Armin as the overworked king of the underworld?

SIX MONTHS IN THE GARDEN OF HADES

In a strange twist of fate, the lord of the underworld was five foot five and had a shock of blond hair.

“You kidnapped me!” Eren sounded incredulous. He scowled at the person - barely older than a boy - whose office (realm?) he had just been thrown into. The blond boy, seated at the ornate desk, looked up from his paperwork with a bored expression on his face. Eren stood up, brushing the dirt off his clothes and collected himself, managing to sound incredibly composed despite having just fallen through a crack in the earth and tumbled right down to hades. “That’s so wrong. Wait till my sister finds out - you’ll be dead.”

That sounded like a threat, but it struck Armin as terribly ironic. He laughed. “I’ll look forward to it.”

If looks could kill he guessed that the glare that the other boy had shot him might have actually struck him dead, but he was the god of the underworld and of the dead and honestly? Trifle things like that didn’t matter.

So he dismissed the glowering boy with a flick of his wrist and went back to poring over his spreadsheets.

ii.

When they next meet Eren’s hands were sticky and he wished very hard that he could cough out his last meal.

Armin glanced up at him, then back to his work. “I’m guessing you had some of the fruits from my garden?”

“I was hungry,” Eren protested. “You don’t even have -”

“Six months.” Armin interrupted. He didn’t look up, still scribbling as his eyes scanned over the reports and administrative data. Why do people keep dying? he wondered, briefly, before turning his attention back to the boy before him. “You don’t even need food. But you’ve eaten them, you do the time, that’s just how it works, et cetera. Besides, didn’t anyone ever warn you?”

“Fuck you,” Eren replied.

iii.

Wandering around the palace grounds, which were not entirely to his liking, being all dark marble and jagged rock - as well as gaudy displays of gemstones and glittering metal that made his eyes hurt - Eren found himself settling by the shallow pool and watching his reflection in the black water.

It seems like a cruel trick, to make the earth open up and take him here and then just...leave him alone? What was Hades even thinking? And why was he a lanky teenage boy? That was possibly more confusing.

Suddenly, a mop of blond hair appeared behind him. He jumped. “You scared the shit out of me,” he said accusatorially to the figure, frowning.

“Sorry,” Armin offered. Up close he looked far less intimidating - beneath the grand robes his shoulders were rounded and he was skinny and rather small. His clothes seemed to overwhelm him. His wide blue eyes were deep-set and there were tired, dark circles against the pale flesh of his face. He drew in a long breath and sighed. Eren noticed that he was biting his dry lips nervously.

“Walk with me?” the lord of the underworld asked. Despite himself, Eren obliged, nodding slowly and letting the boy help him to his feet.

They made their way through the sprawling grounds in silence, trodding through the soft earth. They walked past abandoned gazebos with doric columns, round a winding path with dead and rotting trees and grey leaves which crunched underfoot, away from the black obsidian building which loomed across everything in the landscape. The dead fluttered around them.

Eventually they came to a pier. Armin leant against the railings, gaze fixed on the river. The water was dark as it rushed and churned underneath them. Eren watched him for a second then looked away. Off in the distance he could see the glowing lights of Elysium.

Slowly, haltingly, the other boy began to speak.

“Sorry about…” Armin trailed off. “It was stupid. I should have just asked - we could be friends properly. But now - it’s the seeds, you see. Six of them, six months. We're bound by precedent, unfortunately.”

Ah, there it was again. Who knew the god of the dead was such a stickler for rules?

And then he was off again, turning away and moving through his realm. Eren followed, and they walked on in silence. Eren looked upon the craggy rock and trampled flowerbeds and the overgrown hedges on the edges of the estate, and frowned.

“Your palace sucks,” he blurted out, characteristically blunt.

It was Armin’s turn to be startled. In fact, he looked positively scandalised. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve got like, all the gold and precious metals and stuff but it’s just too much,” Eren supplied.

A pause.

“Also the palace looks evil and the gardens are dead,” he added.

Armin opened his mouth to object but closed it again.

Eren, ever the opportunist, quickly followed up: “I’ll forgive you - and your terrible taste - if you let me just have the garden,” he said, gesturing around meaningfully. “By the time summer comes I’ll have it all fixed up.”

Armin dithered, but picked up the pace, widening his strides.

“You owe me,” Eren pressed breathlessly, running to catch up. “You were the one who started it.”

Armin seemed suitably chastened. “Fine,” he huffed out.

Eren couldn’t help but smile to himself, even as he was careful not to let the boy see.

It was getting late - a mist had descended upon the land and it was beginning to get cold. Eren found himself shivering in his thin clothes, goosebumps creeping across the length of his arms. Armin must have noticed, because he pretended to stifle a yawn and said, “We should get back.”

And then, before he could protest, the lord of the underworld - Hades himself - draped his thick coat across his shoulders, and was already ahead of him, bare shoulders stark against the night as he turned on his heel and moved briskly in the direction of the ugly, evil palace. Eren clutched at the velvet that clung to him. It was surprisingly warm against his skin.

It became a routine of sorts, walks in the morning and at night, bookending their days. On one nighttime walk, when the precious stones embedded in the cave’s ceiling had glinted like stars, he’d strayed too close to the blond boy and the backs of their hands had brushed. His heart had skipped a beat, but the other boy didn’t seem to notice, or even if he did, he didn’t say anything. And anyway, they’d gone back to their separate chambers as usual - Eren right to bed and Armin back to his office.

iv.

They’d just finished their morning walk, which had led back to the mess of the office, when another one of the servants had unceremoniously dumped yet another pile of papers on Armin’s desk. Eren could see the veins starting to stand out on his forehead, the thick pulsing blue under his pale, luminous skin, before he buried his face in his hands and sighed loudly.

“It’s clearly stressing you out,” Eren said, perched on the corner of the desk. “Here, let me,” he reached for the sheet right on top, marked ‘URGENT’, and for once Armin didn’t try to stop him.

“It’s the review cases,” Armin groaned into his palms. His voice was muffled but indignant. “I’m really not convinced we should change their sentences every thousand years, but since they’ve developed the constitution and instituted rights there’s apparently no such thing as eternal fate anymore.”

“This one?” Eren pulled open a scroll, scanning it. “Another king. Oh - this guy’s seriously fucked up. Cooking his kids?”

“Yeah - which is why I thought it’d be poetic justice to have the whole ‘water he cannot drink’, ‘food he cannot touch’ schtick. But apparently he’s shown some potential for reformation so that’s now out of the window. As are cruel and unusual punishments.” Armin groaned again and let his head flop to the side, blond strands shifting about the jet black table. His cheeks were pressed onto the countertop and it was almost comical, Eren thought - and in fact, deeply humanising, watching Hades moan about his job and suffer from overwork. He felt a pang of feeling - something - for the small blond boy, caught up with the entire mess of processing souls in the afterlife.

And so it might have out of a fit of compassion that he dropped Tantalus’ file, letting it flutter to the floor, and came up behind Armin to rest his hands on his tense shoulders. And it was probably out of a swell of sympathy then that he let himself press his thumbs firmly right into the space between Armin’s shoulder blades, fingers splayed out across his narrow back and warm neck. Working at the tense knots, until he felt the other boy relax into him.

It was the tail end of winter, while a blizzard tore across the surface of the earth and frost marked the ground, when Armin had summoned him for dinner. This was something new; he had made no mention of food - much less a meal - before, except for the second encounter where he’d pronounced Eren’s fate. Besides, he was right: they didn’t exactly need to eat, though Eren supposed he’d appreciate a good dinner if it were offered to him. And Armin had explained that the rest of the food wasn’t binding, so he also supposed it wouldn’t hurt to see what fruits of the earth the underworld could offer.

As the door to the dining hall swung open he was greeted with an opulent sight. His let his eyes scan over the candlelit room with its long table piled high with more food than he’d seen in his life. There was a literal cornucopia as the centrepiece. Armin was at one end, waiting expectantly. His head was resting casually against his fist, blond locks soft against his features. For once he was without paperwork, the entirety of his attention focused on the boy who had entered the room.

“Is this a date,” Eren said, voice rising, but not quite a question.

Armin shrugged noncommittally. “Your time here’s nearly done. It’s been five months - I thought we should commemorate it.” His voice was even, but in the dimly-lit room it would have been impossible to tell if he were blushing anyway.

“Soppy,” Eren said, under his breath, but he let the servants offer him a chair and settled into it, hands already curling around the outermost set of cutlery before him.

After a full dinner of winter vegetables and hearty stews - plus much, much dessert - they retired to the drawing-room, warming themselves by the glow of the crackling fireplace. Eren had shifted himself to the floor and was slumped against the legs of his chair, while Armin sat in a big armchair, leaning right into the cushions. Cerberus lay between them, heads resting on Eren’s lap and tail wagging lazily across the carpeted floor. He let his hands brush over the dog’s smooth coat and scratched him behind his many ears. He looked up and realised Armin was watching him quietly. The soft light danced across his features and his blond hair was like a golden halo. He looked the furthest thing from an imposing god, the lord of the dead. In the orange light he just was: a slender boy, almost-man, with bony knees and silky hair, large eyes heavy-lidded and half-closed. Body relaxing into his seat, basking in the warmth of the fire and filled with a good meal, enjoying the moment and the presence of someone else.

Armin caught his gaze. “Thank you for today, Eren,” he said softly.

Eren scoffed. “Sentimental bastard,” he whispered, and by the firelight, he swore Armin’s blue eyes had crinkled at the corners and his round mouth had curled into a slow, soft smile.

vi.

The plants that Eren had carefully, lovingly sown were coming to fruit, putting out rosy apples and dark velvet figs. They hung low on bended branches like teardrops and had to be harvested quickly before they turned soft and overripe. Eren was spending longer days in the garden which he’d carved out for himself, tending to his crops and reaping the bountiful harvest which he piled around him: lush and speckled gourds, bright fuchsia pomegranates, waxy yellow lemons, tender red berries and grapes in frosted hues, which all lay languidly in wooden crates waiting to be savoured. His favourite were the peaches, which were round and ripe in his hands and whose blush matched the pink in his cheeks as he worked tirelessly at the land. And of course he had a soft spot for the grain in its multitude of forms. The long stalks tickled his face and he brushed them away absentmindedly, even as his hands worked to pick the tiny seeds from their dried heads and shuck the full ears of corn that filled the rustling fields around the obsidian castle.

He was digging up the jewel-toned carrots when Armin found him. He had rested a foot on his worn shovel, pressing it into the soft earth, and had paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. From the corner of his eye he spotted a blond figure approaching the edge of the plot, black robes rustling against the freshly tilled dirt.

Armin slowly made his way up to him. He’d grown, somewhat, in their time together, but he was still small and lithe and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as he spoke:

“Um. Today’s the day. You can leave if you want. I mean…it’s been half a year, hasn’t it?”

Eren watched as he shifted his weight from left to right, and then back again. He’d been thinking about this a lot. They both had. And he had decided. So he merely laughed, turning slowly to wipe his hands on his slacks. He reached for the fruit piled high around them. The ripe pomegranate bruised easily under his fingers as he twisted it open.

And its juice was warm and sweet, trickling down his mouth and lips, as he bit into the soft flesh of its ruby red insides and swallowed its seeds.

here you go, anon! you've asked and i've tried my best to deliver. this was tremendously fun to do so thanks for it:") i’ve put it on ao3 where i might tinker a bit more with it...so watch that space.

and please feel free to ask more :”)

#Eren Jaeger #eremin #armin #armin arlet #eren #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #greek myth retellings #hades and persephone #fruit & homoerotic undertones lol #askbox prompts

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yamigooops · 3 years

Text

Tire Tracks

pairing: street racer! bakugou x mechanic! y/n

words: 2.8k

warnings: language

Cars were your whole life. You grew up in your father’s mechanic shop and learned everything you knew from him. Customers came and went, some more frequently than others, but cars were the one constant thing in your life. You were able to lose yourself in the process of finding and fixing problems, speaking better with parts than with people.

You barely even registered the smell of oil and gasoline anymore. The thin layer of grime that coated your arms was like a second skin, and you were at home here. The cars all around you purred and multiple gaudy sound systems pounded in the crisp night air. The roar of engines was music to your ears, and you had spent the first 45 minutes of the meet up going around looking at the different setups people had.

Now, though, you were doing final checks on the one car that brought you here: Bakugou’s suped up racer. You rebuilt most of the engine yourself, put countless hours into making it faster and stronger. This car was your baby just as much as it was his, and you felt a twinge of nerves knowing what was to come.

“Everything ready down there?” barked the man in question. You finished double checking the last bolt before pushing yourself out from under the vehicle, only to find the blonde staring down at you impatiently.

“Yeah, it looks fine, no thanks to you,” you huffed, sitting up and wiping your hands on a nearby towel. “Listen, I get that you’re gonna go hard tonight, but if you fuck this car up again, I swear I’m done with you.” You put as much threat into your voice as possible as you stood, putting a hand to your hip and glaring at him.

A sly grin split his sharp features. “Aww come on, Y/N, we both know you wouldn’t give up that easy on her,” he taunted, placing an elbow on top of the car and rapping it with his knuckles. “You love her too much.”

He wasn’t wrong, this car was your pride and joy. “You’re right. It’s the person inside I’m worried about,” you rolled your eyes and turned away to open the hood. You had already triple checked everything underneath, but you needed something to occupy yourself with, so you didn’t have to be around Bakugou.

You had known the fired-up blonde ever since middle school, when his dad started coming to yours for maintenance. See, his dad was a local racer, and heard that your dad had the best service around. Well, he would often bring Bakugou in order to teach him about the inner workings of a car. Because of this, the two of you had practically grown up together, spending weekends at the racetrack and weekdays learning what your fathers had to teach you.

But that didn’t mean you liked one another.

Katsuki had always been full of himself. It could have been because of his looks or his dad’s success, or any other factor, you didn’t really care. All you knew was you hadn’t had a normal conversation in longer than you could remember. They always ended in one of you riling the other up, sometimes becoming yelling matches if things got really serious.

You sometimes questioned why you still worked with him, the little asshole. When you both turned 16, your parents decided to buy a junk car, and have you fix it together to test how much you had learned over the years. It took almost 6 months to get it into good shape, but you did it, the only setback being that you were constantly bickering. It was nearly impossible to make decisions about what to do because neither of you wanted to give in to the other.

After that, you continued to work on cars and decided to go to mechanic school after high school. Katsuki went to a traditional 4-year college, and you thought that would be the end of your tormented relationship with him, but no. He contacted you after two years and asked if you would help him with a project, which you agreed to. Ever since then, you’ve become somewhat of a team, travelling around the country to compete in race after race. Some were sanctioned and official, while others tore through backroads and had come to an end when the cops arrived.

Bakugou was one of the best street racers in the country, pushing himself and his vehicle harder than most were willing to do. His lack of inhibition and self-confidence were the keys to his success. Well, those and the fact that you were always there to fix up the damage he caused. You had been doing this together for four years, now each 24 years old, and you couldn’t help but admit that these races made you feel… alive. The whine of an engine as it shoots past you at near top speed, the screeching of tires as they skidded around tight turns, it was all like a fever dream.

The only issue with Bakugou’s racing was he tended to be reckless. Scuffed paint jobs, cracked tire plates, he always pushed his cars to their very limit and made you deal with fixing his mess afterword. Yes, sometimes he would help you, but seeing as you were the actual mechanic on the team you were stuck with the majority, if not all of the work.

“This race’ll be easy, Y/N. Don’t even worry. I mean, we’re gonna be on a dirt road in the middle of a field for god’s sakes, at least there are no buildings or streetlights to worry about,” he called from his place beside the car.

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” you groaned. “You’ll look at that open road and think it’s okay to push as hard as you can!”

“Babe, that’s what makes me so good,” he chuckled, stepping up beside you at the hood.

He always did that, calling you pet names just to piss you off. It always did, making your insides squirm with distaste. At least, you told yourself it was distaste.

“You’ve already checked this thing like four times, just settle down it’s fine.” His voice, normally course like metal grating together, had a softer edge to it. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his crimson ones, and nodded. Pulling the hood shut, you turned around and leaned against it, crossing your arms. You looked over Bakugou as he pulled out his phone to send a text.

He’d recently gotten a haircut, shaving the sides of his head short and leaving the top to its normal spikes, and you had to admit, you thought it suited him better. It showed off his sharp jawline, which had only grown sharper as you got older. His bare arms were cut, unsurprising as he spent a great deal of time in the gym. He wore his signature high-necked black cutoff with a bold red X on the front, with army green cargo pants that cinched at the ankles. As per usual when he raced, he did his dramatic eye black to intimidate his opponents. It usually worked.

“Listen, I just don’t want you messing her up again, okay? I put so much into this car and the past three races I’ve had to set aside hours to fix her. I can’t keep doing that when I have paying customers that need my help too,” you tried to explain calmly. His head snapped up.

“I’m a paying customer too, don’t I get the same attention that your others get?”

“You’re more of a…side hustle.” The words came out with a bit of a grin.

One of his arched eyebrows raised dangerously. “A side hustle? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Working with you is like a second job. I spend so much time on this damn car, and looking at your ugly mug, that it’s like working another part-time job on top of the shop.”

His lips turned down in a scowl and he took a menacing step forward. “First off, you get half the earnings every time I win. I don’t have to do that. Second, I’m hot as fuck, thank you very much.”

You scoffed. “You’re average at best,” you lied. You agreed with him of course, but you’d never tell him that even if you were on your deathbed. “Also, the earnings are the way you pay me for all the shit I do for you, remember? That’s the agreement. Plus, most of that money goes right back into her,” you smacked the hood. “So, in reality you pay way less than any of my other costumers.”

He paused at this, taking in your words. “Guess you like me that much, huh,” he chuckled after a moment. The words brought a flush to your face, and you silently thanked the fact that it was nighttime, and the only illumination came from the cars around you.

“No, it’s just because I’ve known you for years. Sometimes I consider upping your rates though, just to piss you off.”

That got him scowling again, an expression that made you much more comfortable than that devious smirk. “I hope you know your sense of humor really sucks.”

“Bakugou!” A rough voice called from behind the blonde, making him roll his eyes and turn around.

“What do you want, shark week?” He growled, facing Kirishima who was making his way over with a smile.

“Just came to make sure you were still up for this race,” the red head grinned, displaying his sharp teeth.

“You really think I’d back down against someone like you?” Bakugou crossed his arms and relaxed onto one leg. “This is gonna be easy as shit.”

Kirishima chuckled, “Don’t count me out so quick man, might not be as easy as you think.” He glanced over Bakugou’s shoulder and spotted you behind him. “Hey Y/N, you here to patch his ass up after the race?”

“You know me so well, Kiri,” you smirked. Bakugou let out a grunt, punching Kirishima’s shoulder playfully, the other man simply laughing at the disgruntled racer. “Best of luck out there,” you smiled genuinely. You had known Kirishima since high school, where he and Bakugou were best friends. They frequently raced these days, constantly trying to one up each other and keeping a running tally of who won. Currently Bakugou was up by two, if you remembered correctly.

“Thanks Y/N, your faith means the world,” he replied with another toothy smile.

“Hey, quit trying to poach my mechanic,” Bakugou yelled spiritedly.

At this, Kirishima simply laughed, turning to leave. “Just came to say good luck man, I would never try to steal her away from ya. You’re like a match made in heaven. I don’t know anyone else who could put up with your bullshit.”

“I don’t know of anyone else either, I’m really doing the world a favor, huh,” you called, loving the way your blonde partner whirled around and glared at you.

“See you guys after the race!” And with that, Kiri was walking back to his own car.

Bakugou stood there for a moment before turning around to return to the car. He was quiet for a moment before speaking up. “Y’know, you don’t have to keep working with me if you don’t want to. I’ll understand if you don’t…” he said, so softly you almost didn’t hear.

You looked over at him in surprise, “What do you mean, I never said I don’t want to work with you.” It was so unlike him to say things like this that you were completely taken aback.

“It didn’t sound like that just now,” he grumbled, not looking at you. “I know I can be a lot to handle, so I guess I wouldn’t blame you.”

You chuckled, making him look up curiously. “Bakugou, I’m a lot to put up with too. I’ve known you for long enough that it doesn’t even phase me anymore,” you said honestly.

He stared at you for a moment longer than necessary, making you flush slightly. “Yeah, whatever,” he growled in classic Bakugou fashion.

“Racers!” came a shout from nearby. The official of the race stood between the two cars, looking to the two men. “Are you both ready to go?” Both gave a thumbs up, and the man nodded. “Come line up at the start then!”

Bakugou took a deep breath before putting on his jet-black helmet and getting into his car with a sharp slam of his door. You moved away from the vehicle to let him go line up before returning to the side to say your final words to him. “Remember what I said,” you warned, leaning against the rolled down window. “Don’t fuck her up this time, got it?”

He smirked at you and narrowed his eyes. “There’s nothing to worry about Y/N, this is an easy course.” “It better be, for your sake,” you rolled your eyes with a grin. You loved how amped up he got at the starting line.

“See you on the other side, kid,” he nodded. You gave him a thumbs up and stepped away from the car. The official made his way into the center of the two cars, and you made yours over to your pickup truck to watch the race. You climbed up into the bed and leaned against the cabin to look over the field. From up there you could see almost the entire track, and since the cars’ lights would be on you wouldn’t have any problem keeping track of them.

You watched as the official signaled to prepare to start, the engines of both cars revving loudly. A crowd had gathered to watch, and you smirked, knowing that only got Bakugou more amped. Loudly counting down from three, the official dropped the flag and the two vehicles were off, tearing into the darkness as fast as possible.

Bakugou accelerated just a bit faster, edging in front of Kirishima, who swerved slightly to avoid him. They made their way around the course, Bakugou maintaining the lead for most of the time, but losing it several times. Nearing one of the final bends, you saw the headlights on Bakugou’s car dip dramatically and fall a bit behind Kirishima’s for a moment before pulling back ahead. You got a bad feeling in your stomach at that. However, it was over in an instant, the blonde coming in first by a decent margin.

As he got out of the car, Bakugou was swarmed by the crowd. It took you a moment to make it out in the semidarkness and jumble of bodies, but as you hopped out of the bed of your truck and made your way over to Bakugou, you spotted it. The left half of his front bumper was crumpled and scraped. Anger swelled in your stomach, and you pushed forward with renewed vigor, shoving people aside and coming to a halt in front of the man in question.

“What the fuck Bakugou?! What did I tell you literally RIGHT before you left?” You got in his face as he took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. “Look at your fucking bumper! How the hell do you explain that, huh?!” Your anger at his carelessness blinded you to the way he was looking at you, the hunger in his eyes.

Just as you were about to go off again, you felt his hand grasping your chin roughly. This was such an unexpected move that your mind blanked in the seconds to come. “God you’re fuckin sexy when you’re mad,” Bakugou growled, pausing a moment before hungrily pressing his lips to yours. The first thing you registered was the heat. They were burning against yours, and they were soft, much softer than you would have guessed.

Snapping back to yourself, you put a hand on his chest – his muscular chest – and pushed away. You looked away, trying to clear your head. “Woah, you can’t just… kiss me…” you gasped.

“Why not?” He murmured in your ear, absolutely glowing with his victory. He was always an impulsive guy, but that doubled when he won. He was known to break things when he beat someone, so part of you wasn’t surprised that he did that, but it was so unexpected that you never would have thought it would happen.

You looked up at him and found a grin resting on his lips. You felt something in you snap, something that had been holding you back from what you’d wanted to do so many times before but never had the courage to do. Giving a minute shrug, you said fuck it and went in again. It wasn’t a sweet kiss though. He threaded his fingers through your hair, and the hand holding his helmet released it, coming to dig into your waist. It was hot and heavy, filled with anger and pent up emotion and victory. It was a kiss years in the making, and you couldn’t deny that you wanted it to happen. This man was leaving tire tracks on your heart, driving right through the barriers you tried to put up to block him out.

And you were okay with that.

#bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fanfiction #street racer au #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha fanfic #mine #my post

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pennamesmith · 3 years

Text

Return of the Skeletor

A family reunion. Find more Skeletor stories here!

Micah remembered the other world.

Most people could, in fact. The whole planet was affected. They’d all lived a life they thought was perfect. They’d all imagined something intangible. The memories were faded and fragmentary, like the recollection of a dream, but everyone was certain it had really happened.

Even if nothing that had happened was real.

At first Micah didn’t realize anyone else had shared in the dream. He’d lost track of time on Beast Island long ago, and when the collapsing portal closed around him he only assumed it was one of the despairing wasteland’s many tricks. He never had long to dwell on the matter, either. Soon after finding himself returned to reality (he could remember shouting to Angella, reaching for her, trying to tell her “I’m not dead!”) Micah had met the loud and unusual Princess Entrapta. And after her there came…

“She-Ra! It’s She-Ra!” a nasally voice shrieked.

Micah was startled out of his reverie by a sudden clattering of hooves. The door to his Bright Moon office burst inwards and he was presented with the sight of a breathless Swift Wind. Sitting astride the rainbow-winged unicorn was one of Entrapta’s bots, a lanky drone she’d named ‘Skeletor.’

“The time has come!” Skeletor said.

“It’s true!” Swift Wind confirmed. “I felt the sacred bond return just a minute ago. Adora and the others are back from Eternia! Darla is over the Whispering Woods right now!”

“What?” Micah jumped to his feet, abandoning his desk without a second thought. It was covered in a mountain of paperwork: royal records, his regent’s duties, and the calendar pages where he’d marked off every day since Glimmer and the rest of the Princess Alliance left for their dangerous mission to another universe. He rushed to the door where Swift Wind was standing.

Skeletor reached out and helped Micah onto the horse’s back. “Join hands as we bring together our mystic powers!” the robot cried. Once Micah was settled, Swift Wind turned and leapt out the nearest window. They sailed through the skies.

“What’s going on? Are they all right?” Micah asked, with undisguised worry.

Swift Wind banked, soaring over the tree line. “I’m not sure! The ship is under control but — look, there it is!”

Darla, the rebuilt First Ones ship, was descending rapidly from the sky over the treetops. Her flight was steady, but parts of the hull were damaged, and smoke trailed from one wing. Suddenly the ship lurched and plummeted into the trees, vanishing from sight. A plume of vegetation went flying as it plowed to a smouldering stop.

Micah felt his stomach twist. “We need to get closer!” he called out in a panic.

“I can take you there!” Skeletor declared, urging Swift Wind toward the ground. They touched down by the edge of a long path of smoking destruction that stretched deep into the woods.

“They must have landed near here,” Skeletor deduced, observing the massive trench in the ground. He hopped off the horse’s back and ran ahead, making anxious utterances as he went.

Micah dismounted and walked beside Swift Wind. “I hate this,” Micah confessed. “The staying behind, I mean. At least on Beast Island I was the only one I had to worry about, and I was in control of my own survival. But having to stand by while Glimmer goes into danger? I’m so proud of her, yet I’m also so scared.”

“I know what you mean,” Swift Wind answered. “I trust Adora, but I also worry about her, like, all the time. Whenever we’re apart I get so restless. I just feel powerless!”

“Sometimes letting them find their own way is all we can do,” Micah mused.

They came into a clearing in the woods. Darla was there, sparking and steaming but generally intact. Skeletor hammered on the door.

“Here, let me try to get you out!” he called.

Something inside the ship made a noise. There was a hiss and a jet of steam, and Skeletor tumbled backwards, landing with a squawk at Micah and Swift Wind’s feet. They all stared at Darla, holding their breath expectantly.

The front hatch of the spaceship popped open. Entrapta erupted out of it, tumbling down the landing ramp in a ball of frizzled hair. She pulled her goggles up.

“Aha! We made it!” she crowed, taking in her surroundings. “All in the right dimension and everything!”

She reached into the recesses of her hair and emerged with a haggard Hordak. “Your piloting saved us! I knew you could do it!” she told him proudly.

Hordak squinted through half-lidded eyes. “Is it over?” he muttered. “Are we still alive?”

“Yep!” Entrapta wobbled to her feet and gathered her partner up in her ponytails. “Now, let’s get you a checkup and some rest. You’ve had a stressful voyage!”

She suddenly seemed to notice the gathered onlookers. “Oh! Hi Skeletor. Hi Bird Horse. Hi Micah. Guess what? You’re gonna love this!” Entrapta turned back to the ship. “Safe to disembark, crew!” she yelled, before trotting off with Hordak.

“Now we’ll see how clever you are!” Skeletor said.

Mermista peeked around the door. “Ground!” she cried, throwing herself across the dirt in relief. “I never thought I’d miss you so much!”

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad a flight,” Sea Hawk cajoled, helping her to her feet. “Why, I can think of a dozen — no, two dozen more harrowing trips I’ve taken in the Dragon’s Daughter XXVIII.”

“You fishmonger,” Skeletor scoffed.

Frosta was the next one out, followed closely by Perfuma and Scorpia. “Eternia was amazing!” the teenaged ice princess announced, brandishing a pair of frozen fists. “I got to punch so much stuff!”

“Come on, it wasn’t all violence,” Perfuma pleaded.

“Yeah, we learned a bunch about friendship and responsibility too,” Scorpia agreed.

“Punch! Punch!” Frosta said.

“You’re becoming evil, I can sense it!” Skeletor hummed approvingly. “Excellent!”

Catra and Adora came next, and they were accompanied by a young man Micah had never seen before. He had a pink shirt, bobbed blond hair, and bore an uncanny resemblance to Adora herself. A sword hung on his back. He blinked as he emerged into the light.

Swift Wind’s jaw dropped. “Adora! Is that…?”

“Hey guys!” Adora grinned sheepishly. “So, funny story. You remember how when I was a baby I was taken from a hidden First Ones faction that nobody has ever been able to find since?”

She held her hands out, presenting the newcomer. “Well, uh, we found ‘em! This is my twin brother, Adam!”

Adam smiled and waved. “Hello everybody,” he chirped.

“Brother?” Swift Wind sputtered.

“He-Man!” Skeletor bellowed.

The group fell into a chattering commotion, but Micah was hardly paying attention. Glimmer and Bow had appeared at the top of the ramp, holding each other as they looked out. Emotions that went beyond words swam in the young queen’s eyes.

Adora saw where Micah was looking and quickly pulled her brother away. “We’ll tell you the whole story later, sir! Trust me, it’s hilarious. Now come on, I gotta show you around Etheria, bro.”

“Sure thing, sis,” Adam replied, grinning hugely. They pounded their fists together, adding their own sound effects as they did so, and marched off laughing.

“They have been doing that the entire. Trip. Back,” Catra groaned, following close behind the pair. “Somebody save me.”

“You furry coward,” muttered Skeletor.

At the entrance to the ship, Glimmer and Micah hugged each other fiercely. When they finally broke, the old king could see that his daughter was smiling through her tears.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Glimmer sniffled. “So much happened. You wouldn’t believe how scary things got! Oh, but I totally had everything under control.”

“I know you did,” Micah smiled back. But he could tell there was more.

Glimmer’s face turned serious. “Dad,” she said shakily, tripping over her own words. “Listen. Entrapta’s theories about the other dimension were right. When we — I mean, didn’t know if…”

Bow stepped in. “Your highness, I think there’s someone you should see.” He beckoned gently. Still at a loss for words, Glimmer nodded and took her father’s hand, leading him inside the ship.

Micah’s heart was racing even before she rose from the chair and turned to face him. His breath caught when he saw the spreading wings, the shining light, the smiling face that he remembered so clearly.

Their eyes met. It was a miracle.

Just like on the island, a part of him couldn’t believe this was really happening. But it was.

They both reached out. They’d mourned each other once. Their hands met.

“Micah?” she asked, hardly believing it herself.

“Angie?”

Outside, both the princesses and their well-wishers had gathered around Adam, excitedly showing off the wonders of their planet. He gazed with delight at everything, marveling in the magical light of Etheria. His laugh brimmed with kindness.

Skeletor elbowed his way through the crowd. “I can’t let any of you delay me! Out of my way, now!” he jabbered. “This is no time for jokes!”

He made it to where Adora stood with her brother and glared. Adam turned in surprise, not sure what to expect. They stared at each other.

Skeletor held his arms wide. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment!” he cried. “Take this, He-Man!”

Then he lunged forward, and wrapped Adam in an enormous hug.

“He-Man, I am your friend!”

#spop #she ra fanfiction #skeletor #King Micah #Queen Angella #micangella #glimmer #prince adam #adora #swift wind #princess alliance #smith stuff

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inked-spirit · 3 years

Text

Y,know how I said I had another au, and had a small oneshot for it:)

Well here's the oneshot, and bonus very out of context because I haven't talked about it yet. Hyrule meets Legend scene! Au is still being put together and is not really thought out much, but it does include the other under-appreciated links, such as Picori (whose also in this small written piece), Spirit, and Tempo. (Will add more if I find out there's others)

Pre-warning I don't know how to do the undercut thing with posts, so it's very long.

Enjoy:)

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Okay, at this point Hyrule knew he was lost. Very lost.

The further he treked through the thick foilage to find his way back to the fountain. The weaker it's magic became, he was getting further away from it with each passing second.

He knew his sense of direction was terrible but this was just ridiculous.

He tried to call out to any fellow fairy or family that could hear him, to no avail.

It was almost dark, as the sun descended beneath the trees. A few stars making themselves present early. His faint glow making itself known in the growing dark. A pale green.

Pushing through a few more bushes, he comes to a small clearing. Taken up mostly by a decently large pond. It looked pretty deep too.

He felt no fairy magic emanating from the waters and with a disappointed huff sat down beside the ponds rocks.

There was a different kind of magic in the pond though, at the bottom. It felt safe, and somehow he knew it wouldn't hurt him.

Staring up at the stars once more, he sent a prayer to whatever goddess was listening that he'd find his home soon, his mother must be worried sick he hasn't come home before night fall.

He was tired, straying so far from his mother's magic had taken a toll on him. Placing a minor protection spell on the small clearing, he dropped his travel bag on the floor and pulled out a blanket. Nestling himself into a comfortable position using his bag as a pillow of sorts.

"Goodnight mom." He whispered, as he let his eye lids finally close to get some rest.

---

When he woke up it was to a shadow looming over him. He groaned as his eyes slowly opened to meet with a pair of violet ones.

A pale face that looked at him quizitivelly from above. This figure tilted there head at him with a curious glint in there eyes. Short pink hair swept to once side dropping slightly. His long pink bangs swaying beneath his face to the gentle wind.

His eyes widened as he woke up fully, staring at the one above him, whose eyes also widened.

The boy (as he guessed) lept into the pond with a graceful splash and pained gasp. Hyrule rushed to get up. Packing his blanket away and comfortably getting his bag on. He sensed pain was on the boy. He was hurt.

He jumped to the waters edge and peered down to look for the other, finding nothing. Until they peeked there eyes out of the water, brows forrowwed.

"I-im sorry for startling you. I didn't mean to scare you like that." He apologised sitting down in his spot.

The other looked away for a moment before peeking his Head out further so he could see his mouth.

"It's okay. I've just never seen one of your kind before." He replied. His voice was smooth and kind.

Never seen a fairy?

"I've only ever read about fairys in books back home, but fairys were written to be smaller. Your like a very small great fairy, why is that?" The boy asked with a tilt of his head.

"Oh, that's because I'm a great fairy in training." He answered slowly. His eyes trailing to the faint red in the water. The wound.

The boy seemed satisfied with his answer, a small hesitant trust being formed.

"I couldn't help but notice your hurt. Would you mind if I healed you?" He asked, wringing his wrists.

This took the boy by suprise and with small slow nod, he swam closer and reached his arm out of the water. There was a few scars here and there, and what looked like a golden fin across the back of his arm. The boy looked away at first, but once the fairy started to let his magic flow he watched in awe. As the green magic knitted the bloody cut on his arm back together.

When Hyrule pulled his arms away, cutting the magic off, the boy admiring his newly healed arm.

"Did you hurt it on the rocks when I startled you?"

A knod, before the other perked up.

"I'll be back in a second." At that the boy dove under and after about a minute or two he came back up with some cut fish in hands.

"For you." He dropped them on the ground beside Hyrule, awaiting a response.

For a moment he just looked between the other and the fish, before giving an akward smile.

"Oh thank you." He chuckled nervously.

The boy just continued to wait patiently.

"What do I do with them?"

"You eat them, its food."

Glancing down at the fish, he curiously picked one up and went to take a bite.

"Wait y-you cook it first. You were gonna eat it raw?" The boy exclaimed with concern.

Oh.

With a snap of his fingers a small flame appeared in his palm. Growing by the second and so he started to roast it.

Once done (although he burned it in a few places). He finally took a bit. It was juicy but dry, no doubt his own doing. And tasted plain but salty. The burnt bits tasted bitter. But all in all it satisfied him. After his first bite, he set it down and cooked another, holding it out to the boy in the pond.

"I realized I never asked for your name, I'm Hyrule." He spoke, as the boy gingerly took the offered fish.

"I'm Legend." He took a bite and grimaced at first to the taste but settled.

He packed the rest of the fish away in his bag after asking if the boy wanted anymore.

Crossing his legs and resting his head in his palms.

"Hey, ive been meaning to ask. Why do you stay in the pond?"

The boys face frorrowed, his eyes traced the rocks instead of the fairy, and lifted what the fairy assumed was his version of legs. A large white blotched amareanth fishtail, lined with golden fins, some tattered near the end but not much.

"Oh you can't go that far." He spoke sadly.

"Yeah, no legs means no land travel. Fish tail means water travel only." He said simply.

"Do you live in this pond, have any family around here?" He asked a pit forming in his gut.

Legend shook his head,

"I was dropped here on accident by poachers after the few days travel they had me. I've been stuck in this pond for almost a whole week now if in correct. I lived in Hylia lake, with my uncle."

Lake Hylia!

That was at least a few days travel from his fountain, how far did the poachers go to abduct him?

He wanted to help he really did, but what could he do?

...

Then like a blessing from above, an idea popped in his head. Details would be thought of next. But he had an idea, and he was going to help this weird hylian.

Hyrule brightened immediately.

"Hey, what if I took you home? Act as your guide across the lands." Hyrule suggested.

Legend looked at him as if he grew two heads.

"How are you going to do that?"

He didn't know but maybe he could carry Legend to his fountain when he found it and ask his mother for advice. She always knew what to do.

"I could take you to my fairy fountain and find out what to do from there." He suggested, with a shrug and nervous smile.

The pink haired kid, tilted his head in thought before giving a nod.

"That could work. Better than being stuck in here till the day i die."

Thankfully a thought on what he could do came to mind. An friend could possibly help.

"Perfect! It's settled then!" At that Hyrule brought his point finger and thumb to his mouth and gave a shrill whistle.

He waited a full minute or two before a small willow bird swooped in and perched in his hair.

A small mouse like creature getting off its back and peeking over his forehead from his hair. The creature no bigger than a hylians thumb.

"Hyrule! Long time no see!" The small thing squeaked cheerfully.

They clung to a curl of hair and dropped onto Hyrules waiting palm. The fairy chuckling at the small person?

"It has, hasn't it?" He laughed. Before the small mouse caught eye with Legend.

"A hylian in the pond? And it seems they can see me?" They chittered.

"I dont think hes a hylian. Either he isn't or he is and hes a weird one." Hyrule whispered.

"I'm a mer, deffintly not hylian. And what is that thing in your palm." Legend asked from the water resting his arms on the sand dirt edge.

Oh so that's what he was, he was going to ask mother about that later.

"This is Picori, of the Minish. He's been my best friend, since I could even walk. He may be able to help us with our problem." Hyrule smilled.

"That explains the pond, hylians tend to hate getting wet in clothing." Picori huffed.

Hyrule hummed before, leaning closer to the Minish in his palm. Whispering something Legend couldn't hear or understand with the change in Hyrules language.

Hyrule backed up, and Picori seemed to hum before saying something to the other.

"Alright, Legend I'm going to need to carry you for this next part, would you be okay with that?" Hyrule looked over to the mer in question expectantly.

"Where are you taking me, exactly?" He asked, pulling himself out of the water.

And now, could Hyrule so the rest of him properly. He had what looked like a black tunic like shirt, long sleeves folded above the elbows, and a collar he now folded up, hidding the gills on his neck.

A black and silver belt wrapped around his waist and bottom half of the tunic.

The metal emited no familiar heat, safe.

"Cori has a solution to our problem." He chirped, putting Picori on his shoulder, and reaching to pick Legend up.

Abite difficult and painstakingly Hyrule managed to carry him bridal style, in the directions Picori instructed.

Being meet with a tree stump, that radiated the same magic Picori did.

"Place him on the stump and me on his shoulder." Picori instructed.

Hyrule nodded gently and put Legend on the stump. Next reaching a hand for Picori to climb on and let him onto legends shoulder.

"Tell him not to freak out with this next part, they always do the first go around." Picoris muttered, Hyrule relaying the message.

"Okay now I'm worried, what's the small guy on my shoulder planning." Legend asked nervously.

Hyrule lifting hands to gently take the bird from his head, placing her down on a nearby rock with a pet.

"You'll see in a second." The fairy smiled with a tilt of his head, hair falling with the motion. Before he shrank in the blink of an eye. To a normal fairys size, Legend could only blink dumbly as Hyrule fluttered in place, waiting he noticed.

Picori chittering something from his shoulder, before he felt a strong magic pull him. He landed with an oof on giant mushrooms inside a what looked like the inside of the stump he was sitting on.

Wait-

A small thumping alerted the presence of the Minish, who was now almost the same size as himself (Almost, he was still tiny compared to the others), as he scampered over and helped the merman down from the fungi, and over to a waiting Hyrule by the exit of the stump. The minish and fairy sharing a quick tight hug, before the merman was picked up and held again.

The minish handed Legend a small pale brown thing that looked edible, smelled bitter, but nice. And was told to eat it by Hyrule.

It was an uncomfortable mess with his hearing, a soft static and deafness before it settled and he could understand the mouse guys greeting.

Getting a good look at the world as it was now that he was smaller. It looked huge, and so much more different, things he'd never notice before in full view now. All though he'd never really seen what the surface had to offer anyway. Intill the poachers of course. But still.

"I better grow again before I'm returned home." Legend smirked.

Getting a short laugh from Hyrule.

"You will when when we get to my fountain."

Picori blew a quick whistle with his pinky fingers at a higher note than Hyrules from before. The willow bird peered up, and flapped over. Awaiting it's riders to board.

"You do know where my fountain is, right Picori?" The fairy asked with a nervous chuckle.

The minish nodded getting on the birds back.

No one needed to know he was lost, and add to his reputation. So it went unsaid.

Once they were all situated and Legend was held securely. The bird shot up into the sky at Picoris gentle command.

End

Good day/night whoever read this, hope your doing good^^

#questions and whatnot are welcome #Creature and Myths au #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu picori #legend of zelda #linked universe au #i dont know how to tag #this isnt proof read and i apoligise for my bad writting

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